Golden Reign

by Undisputed

Rating: mature
Tags: Adventure, Violence, Princess Celestia, Death, Human, Narcotics, Princess Luna, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Romance, Sex, Suicide / Self Harm, Profanity, Non-consensual
Length: 492550

Many years predating FiM, a supernatural human is unwillingly sent to Equestria - where chaos seeks to dominate.

This is a tale which takes place a thousand years before the happenings of FiM. Equestria suffers from economic and cultural drudge due to the aftermath of the recent Great War.

A historic relic is destroyed, releasing something unknown across all of the land. While the denizens of the country continue their struggles or depravity, something that even time has disremembered catches up to them.

A group of powerful beings who transcend space and time are born with the power of Arch. These beings are generally good, and they are usually tasked to stabilize their homelands using their gift. One human with this gift considers it a curse, one that has plagued his family for generations. All but stubborn to use it, he shall be unwillingly thrusted into Equestria, forced to abandon all that he had.

This stubborness had formed due to the ties he and his family cut to a vicious gang in the United States. Found at the peak of the boil, his former gang raids his home and attempts to end his life. He emerges victorious and finally looks towards a placid future.

Fate having it, he instead lands in Equestria and must find a way home. He will soon figure out that neglecting his gift, and himself, will only serve to cause him harm time and time again. But through this, he will make friends and relationships, some more intimate than others, as he trudges across this slowly sundering world.

This story is centric on these tags: Action, Adventure, Drama, Dark, Sad, Tragedy, and Romance. These ideas will be common, other tags will appear throughout the story without marking or notice. Please use this as your warning.

This story has inspiration, but not full integration, from Your Human and You. Humans are present in this story and do not posses higher-order thinking.

Important context: Despite any resemblance to figures from scripture, there are no rooted biblical ties in this story.

3/3/24: Golden Reign was featured a few times but I've never had the chance to record it, since my usual pattern is upload, go to bed, go to work, then check back the next evening. But tonight my friend pointed it out so I didn't miss it! Thanks, y'all. :twilightsmile:

Published 2019-06-16 21:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-08-18 18:08:09 UTC

Reference: Map of Equestria

Author's Note

Hello, reader. Golden Reign has many locations and scenes, and it may be a bit much to keep track of all of them. To ease that potential annoyance, here's a (semi-canon) modern map of Equestria.

Note, I did say 'modern map.' Some landmarks may differ or not exist at all in this story (like our beloved Ponyville). The map mostly serves to give you a geographical concept of the scenes you read.

If the image dies for whatever reason, let me know and I'll fix it.
Pro tip: right-click the image, open in a new tab, and zoom/unzoom to your heart's content.

Credit for this awesome map goes to MelonGalaxy7. You can find his full-res map on his DeviantArt.

Reference: Map of Equestria

Prologue

A time many years in the past...

‎

~ Equestria, The Temple of Horis ~<
January 2nd, 25 PGW, Tuesday, 17:48

‎ ‎

"Should be in here. If anything goes right today, it should be right in here."

"Yeah, Tawl? And what if it isn't? What if it's another one of those big rooms with the water traps?"

"But it's not! Ugh, why are you always so cynical, Tanta?"

“Cynical? Hah. I thought you loved the water rooms.”

"Enough," orders the leader of this squad of beaked and plumed plunderers. He and the three other griffons accompanying him wear small backpacks of equipment and utility belts with several small tools. The cold, squinted eyes of this older griffon glaze the room before him. "Tawl is correct - it’s unmistakable. This is it."

The four bickering griffons find themselves inside a large room, filled with sand, ancient pony engravings on every wall and ceiling tile, and massive totems which hold candles that seem to still be burning after a millennia. These totems have engravings also, but they are etched with Old Ponish text rather than hieroglyphs.

The air is cold, howling with a draft, giving the grey and blue environment of this expansive ancient chamber an uninviting presentation.

The griffons make a steady, cautious pace down a wide sand-riddled bridge that connects the entrance of this room to the far end, where a large metal pedestal holds a luminescent relic. This eerie artifact is a black-onyx hourglass with emeralds encrusted at the rims, containing an essence inside appearing to have the granulated texture of sand which is green, pulsating, and softly glowing.

"Hm. I guess the worst of the traps are behind us now," murmurs Tawl, an amber and white plumed female griffon as she scans the room. "Looks like a straight walk from here."

"You think so, Tawl?" asks Tanta, a brown and grey plumed female griffon, rather sarcastically. "Then why don't you go and head up first?"

"I said I was guessing," she replies with a huff. "I didn't say I was sure."

"You know who ELSE was guessing there wasn't any traps? Shark. And he's dead now. So keep guessing!"

"Damn Shark," sighs Fawl, a male amber and white plumed griffon. "He was one of our best scouts."

"Well, he obviously wasn't that great if a flying log managed to smash him into a wall," Tanta retorts. "What kind of 'great' scout lets that happen?"

"I've known him since I first joined the Featherline!" Fawl snaps at her, pointing a clawed finger at her beak. She recoils only slightly at this. "He was the closest thing I had to a friend in this damn gang. You talk shit about him, you talk shit about me. I should have known you’d be ungrateful - he died saving our asses back there."

"Ooo, is that 'emotion' you're showing, Fawl? I thought you were the cool, stoic type. What happened? Death a little too grim for you?"

He squints bitterly. "You're really starting to piss me off."

"Pft, wow. That's all it takes to make you mad? You and your sister really are a fruity bunch."

Fawl stops and grits his teeth under his beak, settled only by his sister Tawl placing her claw on his shoulder. He simmers down enough to follow behind his team again. They are coming closer to the relic perched on its seat of cold iron.

"Why am I always paired with the bleed-hearts on all of my assignments," Tanta whispers under her breath.

"Hrrh." Fawl's dilating eyes bounce between the older griffon and Tanta. "... Hey, Grimace," he calls through grinding teeth. "You being the squad leader and all, I think you should get your squad member to watch that beak of hers. She's been running it since this operation started."

"All of you have," Grimace, the older, grey and white griffon says, not once looking away from the relic. "If there were any better time to shut up and focus, it would be now."

Fawl scoffs, "But it's Tanta that's--!"

"That's. An order." Grimace utters sternly, finally breaking eye contact with the artifact to glare at Fawl. "Now," he begins, reassessing the room around him, "it would appear Tawl's judgement is once again correct. There is not sight of any indentations or grooves along the ceiling, walls, or floors. No hidden traps," he states as he fearlessly walks towards the metal pedestal that holds the emissive hourglass. "... The relic... of Horis," he murmurs in awe to himself. "... Whoever this Horis pony was, he must have not wanted anyone to find this. Ever. This labyrinthine temple is a testament to that."

"Psh, couldn't keep the Featherline's elite out," Tanta prides herself while buffing her chest with her claw.

“What does this thing even do?” asks Fawl as he eyeballs the relic.

Tanta's grin drops for an annoyed frown. “SOME griffon obviously wasn’t paying attention in the debrief."

“That's enough out of you, Tanta," Grimace scolds her. "Any further disruption will be docked on your record. And we both know you can't afford another mark." Tanta rolls her eyes and bites her beak, squinting angrily at the siblings beside her. Grimace refocuses himself onto the relic, speaking again. "This relic is said to be imbued with the power of time manipulation. Its major properties are unknown." He furrows his brow line as he approaches the relic. "... But they won’t be for long.”

"Damn." Fawl's brows raise in amusement. "Time manipulation, huh? I've got my doubts. If it's the real deal here, isn't something like this really dangerous?"

"Is that why the Black Horseshoes want it so badly?" Tawl asks trepidly.

“One could imagine,” Grimace replies simply.

"What are they planning to do with it?" Fawl prods.

"That's none of our concern. That is not what our job inquires."

“Whatever. Hopefully this fucking thing was worth it. Shark's life was a huge price to pay."

Tawl nods solemnly in agreement. "This temple wasn't like anything else we've ever raided. It was so confusing and weird, with all of the mazes and the clocks. All the mirrors and false walls. How long have we been in here?"

"Too long," Tanta grunts. "Mostly because Fawl couldn't stop crying over Shark."

Tawl and Fawl stare sharply at her, but relax slightly after Grimace speaks up. "We lost a good scout today, we did, but the mission is all that matters. It was accomplished - we'll return back to camp with a grand success to our names. You best believe that this relic was worth the sacrifice of such a noble squad member. The power contained in it is too useful and precarious to leave unchecked. And even if you could care less about its marvels in magic, our commission for its acquisition will make us rich."

“That’s what I’m hoping for.” Tanta grins lustfully at the relic.

"The money’s great and all," Fawl muses, "but this is time manipulation here. The most taboo type of magic out there. Am I the only one who thinks the Horseshoes are planning something crazy?"

Grimace glares at him seriously. "I will not repeat myself again. That. Is none. Of our. Concern." After Fawl scoffs and refrains from asking further questions, Grimace returns his eyes to the artifact. "Enough stalling. Now to acquire it. Brace yourselves, the potential effects of this relic are unknown and possibly dangerous. Be prepared for anything," he warns as he prepares himself to reach towards the relic. The griffons surrounding Grimace get into a ready position, squinting their eyes and spreading their wings. Then, with a reach of courage, he grips the relic into his right claw.

Like a firecracker exploding in his grasp, the relic fires a plethora of magical streaks in every direction. The room becomes a lightshow of green energies, soon accompanied by whispers and frantic speaking in a language unknown to these griffons. The entire squad feels overwhelmed by an encompassing weight that seems to crush their bodies, driving them to squirm uncomfortably and hyperventilate. The sensations overtaking them are pure dread - they all feel the fear of death grasping at their hearts.

But then, it all ends abruptly. The magic ceases, the whispering stops, and the room returns to its quiet, eerie state. The griffons pant and fall onto their haunches, gripping and shifting the sand they rest over.

"Hnh, nnh..." Grimace's body relaxes and his eyes droop half-closed, taking on a discombobulated look. He is the only one who still stands, his claw still holding onto the relic upon the pedestal. His squad mates rise onto their fours and compose themselves, adjusting their stunned vision.

"Damn it." Fawl shrugs his left shoulder as he surveys his surroundings.

"What was that?" Tawl asks worriedly. "Grimace?" she calls towards the unresponsive griffon. "... Hey, Grimace? Are you okay?" She takes one step toward him, but her brother Fawl places his claw at her chest.

They cautiously watch his still, laxed form stand in place... and after a tense silence, he finally blinks. His eyes adjust and he shakes his head, mentally returning to the world around him.

"Grimace? You alright?" Tanta asks skeptically.

"... Yes," Grimace replies after a moment. "I am fine."

"What in the fuck just happened?" Fawl questions with agitation.

"I don't know... but... it was strange. I saw... I saw a dream. No, a vision. I saw... myself." Grimace's mind races ahead of his beak.

His squad mates squint at him, perplexed at the sudden revelation he is advocating. Fawl tilts his head back, raising his brow line, "... What did you see?"

"I saw myself. I was... sitting in a throne. I was a king. And the body I had! It was... it was perfect! The pinnacle lifeform! Powered by only the strongest and purest magic. Indescribable! I was the ruler of Equus. I was rich, I had... I had everything! The vision given to me by this relic foretold my grandeur!" He gradually gets more excited as he speaks. The other griffons give him an odd stare as he glues his now-pulsating green eyes to the relic. "Ponies, griffons. All bowed before me! I was their ruler! I had power... no, I WAS power!" Grimace says as he holds the relic high above his head. "All in due to the magic contained in this artifact. It speaks to me!"

"... Umm," Tawl shifts her eyes left and right awkwardly, "... things are getting a little weird now. How about we get out of here and get that thing back to camp--"

"NO!"

"NO!" Grimace blurts aggressively, interrupting her. "IT IS MINE!" "It is MINE!" He brings it down to his chest, holding it tightly as he steps back, away from his squad mates.

"HE'S CRAZY!" Fawl winces suddenly, feeling something tear at his mind. He resists the urge to shout out his sudden thought, instead grumbling, "Rh, my fucking head! ... Grimace, what's going on!?"

Tanta takes an angry step towards Grimace, who is quick to step back the same distance and spread his wings. He prepares to take into the air as he shouts, "You will NOT take my lordship away!"

"HE'S DELUSIONAL!" Tanta closes her left eye, wincing at the sudden viciousness coming into her heart. "Rgh, y... you're delusional, Grimace. You're letting some stupid dream get to your head, and it's pissing me off." "GIVE IT TO ME!" "Give over that relic, or I'll pry it out of your dead claws," she rumbles with dilating eyes, giving her already cynical front an unhinged look.

"ALL OF YOU SHALL PERISH!" Tawl tucks her chin into her chest and grips her head while clenching her teeth, trying her best at fighting back the sudden rush of accusation. With a whimper, she cries, "Everyone! Nhn-- please, stop! Why are we arguing!?"

Tawl and Fawl combat the searing voices attacking their heads while Tanta and Grimace stand at a stalemate, eyeing each other with squinted eyes, wondering who will move first.

Only the sounds of hollow wind and creaking structure fill the air. Grimace moves his sharpened eyes all over the room, planning for an exit. There's nothing that can aid his slither as the only exit to this room is the way they came from.

"ESCAPE!" "Hryah!" Grimace bolts up, attempting to fly overhead towards the exit.

"KILL!" He is quickly interceded by Tanta, grasped at the tail by her claw. She forces him down with a strong heave, getting a croak of pain out of him. He lands atop of her, and they begin fumbling on the ground.

Tawl and Fawl both watch in pure angst, mixed between acting and staying out. Voices rumble in their minds, tugging at their will and tempting them to enter the violent brawl.

"It. Is. MINE!" Grimace grits through his teeth.

"You are SO DEAD when we get back to camp, Grimace! We'll have you EXECUTED!" Tanta shouts, almost sounding happy.

"YOU'LL be the one dead soon, you insect!" Grimace says as he sinks his free talons into Tanta's cheek, causing her to cry out in pain. "You WON'T take my rightful ruling away from ME! You will NEVER-- GYOAAH! AAGAAAH!" He releases a loud, bloodcurdling scream after Tanta retaliates, swiftly gashing his left eye with her talon. He shuts his eye, blood furiously leaking down his cheek.

Grimace jerks wildly and manages to kick Tanta in the beak, stunning her and rattling her eyes. Then, in a fit of pure, almost literal blind rage, Grimace rises and looms over the stunned Tanta. His one open eye stares at her, dilated to a pin prick.

"RELEASE ME!" "You dare interfere with my lordship." He lifts the hourglass high above his head, preparing it for a mighty swing.

Tawl and Fawl return their focus onto the scene before them, slowly emerging victorious against the metaphysical assault on their minds. Their eyes widen upon seeing Grimace, with Tawl crying out far too late, "Grimace, no!"

"BECOME A GOD!" "HRAH!" he bellows, swinging the relic with all his strength. He smashes the relic over Tanta's head, plunging her into unconsciousness and leaving a bleeding wound upon her scalp. The relic breaks into two chunks, one in his claw and the other falling into the sand next to Tanta.

As the relic is broken apart, the world around suddenly comes to a halt. Everyone freezes in place, the magic contained inside of it disperses madly, causing an influx of unstable energies to spark and clash violently.

Soon, they all blink simultaneously. Everything resumes as normal and everyone is confused. They retake the scene before them, remembering what occurred but seconds ago.

Grimace whines in pain and holds his claw over his face, his eye still leaks blood from the given gash. "Nrh, w-what the...?" he utters, using his right eye to look around.

Tawl and Fawl look at the older griffon with faces of pure hate. Surely without the influence of the manic voice, Fawl darts at Grimace, leaving him with little opportunity to react before he is swiftly beaten into unconsciousness with two well-placed strikes to the jaw and temple.

With Grimace and Tanta out cold, Tawl takes this opportunity to quickly reach into her bags and tool belt for medical supplies. She mends and wraps their wounds as best she can so they can survive the trip back to camp. Fawl remains alert for any undue surprises while his sister tends to the agitated duo.

The siblings waste little time after, dragging their downed, bloodied mates out of the temple along with the broken relic. Navigating the temple is easier than before, as they have already become familiar with the traps and passages.

As they make their exit, they pass by a certain room with a large wooden log and a plank bridge... one which houses the burial site of their comrade. The two siblings give homage to the scout who paints the wall of this room with his innards, and they escape with their unconscious squad mates.

‎

~~~<

‎

With a several-hour trip to the far west, the griffon siblings arrive using their wagon to their camp, the Featherline west camp. This camp is perched on the mountains of west-border Equestria, where tents of all shapes and sizes riddle the space, surrounded by tall wooden spikes.

Grimace and Tanta have awoken once each, but their feeble states and lack of energy returns them to sleep by the time the siblings reach the gates of the camp.

Fawl and Tawl are both immediately interceded by Featherline gang security at the front mountain path entrance. After the inspection, they are both sent directly towards the lieutenant's quarters.

They enter the large, white and brown tent that stands high above the other lamer tents that make up the camp. They try their best to swallow the fear in their throats as they fall under the pitiless gaze of their camp lieutenant.

"Fawl. Tawl. Where is the rest of your squad?" asks the lieutenant, but the tone of her voice speaks as if she was already accusing them. "Where is your squad leader?" Her eyes are cold and lifeless. Her feathers are swept back in a fashion that allows her icy orbs to be perfectly seen.

"Th-... Th-They’re, uh... u-unconscious, lieutenant," Tawl manages to stammer poorly.

"And why?" the lieutenant tilts her head in a slow, creaking manner.

"Th-... We-..." Tawl loses her words. She looks at Fawl for help, but he appears just as frozen.

"Where is the relic your squad was sent after?"

Lacking the fortitude to verbally respond, the siblings say nothing. Fawl reaches into the messenger bag he is carrying, taking out the broken relic and shamefully presenting it to the lieutenant.

The lieutenant stares at the miserable sight with nothing but apathy. Her head returns to normal from its tilted position. "Fawl. Tawl. I expected vastly better from one of the Featherline's elite scouting squadrons. Two members in critical condition? One dead? Two completely unscathed? This mission was a complete disaster, and I want to know why. If you do not come clean, a full investigation will ensue. With our enemy, the Sleeping Talons, approaching our borders, we would rather not waste our time and resources and simply execute every one of you, especially after such a catastrophic failure. So..." she speaks without a single change in pitch, "... I will ask again. Why are your squad members in this state?"

"Shark..." Fawl clears his throat, "... was an unfortunate casualty. The temple was more fortified and confusing than anything we've ever dealt with before. Mind games, is the best way to put it. His body was irrecoverable. He died early into the temple raid." He swallows some tension from his throat. "A-After that, we found the relic. I-Intact, too... but... after Grimace grabbed it, he started saying a bunch of nonsense - started calling it his own. He-- He went mad. The relic itself might have caused it, but... w-we're not sure. Then, Tanta attempted to... seize the relic. I guess. But she openly attacked Grimace instead of using standard submission tactics. They fought each other, and... they are the reason the relic is broken." He clenches his teeth after muttering out his explanation.

The lieutenant's eyes rest boredly on him in silence before she looks forward at nothing, past the two griffons. "I see. And you swear upon your oath that this is the truth?” The two griffons nod quickly in response. "Then," the lieutenant's apathetic gaze rises to look above the siblings, "Tanta has too many strikes in her record. Her pugnacious nature has overtaken her worth. Your squad leader, Grimace, will also be tried for his betrayal. Magic or no magic, there is no excuse for such incompetence from an officer such as himself. Tomorrow morning, you will watch Grimace Flight and Tanta Claw be publicly executed in front of the entire camp. If you two demonstrate any sympathy for them, you will be imprisoned. In addition, your commission for this acquisition is forfeit. Is there anything else I should know?" The two siblings shake their heads in defeat. "You are dismissed," the lieutenant says, taking the pieces of the relic into her claw and setting them down on the table she sits at.

Fawl and Tawl leave the tent with lowered heads. The two siblings find a place to perch themselves inside the camp, remaining thoughtful and depressed. Other careless griffons move about their business, ignoring the two that toil over their recent disaster.

Fawl lets out a sigh, looking at his sister. "Hey, T, can... can I ask you something kind of weird?" Tawl says nothing, but turns her gaze towards him. "So... when the relic was touched... did you feel that too?"

She nods. "Yeah! It-- it was weird! That pain... it was like someone was choking me. Then, I was getting really angry. I had to try my hardest not to get physical. I... I really didn't feel like myself back there."

"Yeah, exactly! Shit, it felt like I was having a nightmare, but I knew I was awake."

"Good to know I wasn't the only one who felt like that. ... I wonder if Grimace and Tanta felt it too."

Fawl shrugs. "Probably. Tanta definitely felt something... a priceless relic to the head. What the fuck was Grimace thinking!? Using the relic we were SUPPOSED to nab to bludgeon Tanta!" He throws his arms up in frustration, then he leans forward and rubs his eyes. "Idiot, I swear. ... Well... whether they felt anything, we’ll never know. They'll be dead in a few hours from now."

The two siblings gaze at the dirt under them, drowned in thought and silence.

‎ ‎

‎ ‎

‎

‎

~ U.S.A, New Mexico ~<
May 7th, 1906, Monday, 21:19

‎

Lightning surges in the sky, briefly illuminating the dark night as rain pelts the earth.

"YOU ALWAYS WERE JUST LIKE YER FATHER! STUBBORN AS A MULE! YOU AIN'T GOT MUCH TIME BEFORE YOU BLEED TO DEATH! COME ON! COME OUT AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN!"

"Mrgh..." A man wearing a torn, ragged duster, breathes unsteadily while he slips his last six bullets into his revolver's cylinder. He hides behind several bales of hay, avoiding his oppressor as he reloads his weapon.

Two men stand off at a farm home, tired, bleeding and muddy. The home belongs to the man who hides behind the bales, but now finds his property destroyed, shambled, and riddled with bodies. The broken wagon, the collapsed water-tower, and the dead animals, they all served a purpose after their destruction as cover for this elongated gunfight that has lasted since the early morning.

Corpses of twenty-six men are splayed out across his yard, each falling fate to the sleight of his hand. His breathing is rasp and trembling, due to being tacked with nearly a dozen bullets. Each wound stings horribly, enough to blur his vision. Regardless of this, he continues his struggle to survive.

"WE WERE LIKE FAMILY, SKY! LIKE FAMILY! YOU COULD'A MADE IT EASY ON YERSELF! ALL THESE DEAD MEN 'ROUND YOU WERE YER BROTHERS ONCE! AND YOU MADE 'EM SUFFER! DON'T YOU GET THAT!?"

Sky, the young man behind cover, gets his six bullets in then flicks his weapon to the right, locking the cylinder back into place. He cocks the hammer back, then shifts his eyes to his side, furrowing his brows. He wipes his mouth with his duster sleeve, and with his patience ran thin by the man shouting at him, he finally shouts back, "SHUT UP!"

"HAHAHAAAA! STILL ABLE TO BARK AFTER GETTIN' SHOT TO HELL!? REALLY REMINDS ME OF YER PA'! DID THE SAME FUCKIN' THING! 'CEPT HE WASN'T COWERIN' AWAY! C'MON, SKY, DON'T MAKE ME FUCKIN' GO OVER THERE!"

Under the thunder and rain, he hears footsteps trekking along the mud and water. He squints his eyes, preparing to intercept.

He swiftly rises from his cover and grips the figure that approached him, grasping it and firing two successive shots at their belly. "-- Ngh!" His eyes widen, realizing he's gripping the corpse of a dead man that was used as bait.

The bearded man known as Michael drops the body he used and grasps Sky's gun-hand, twisting it and pointing it away. The two tall men enter a tussle, with Michael taking the lead by swatting Sky's face with the butt of his own revolver. He follows up this attack by further twisting Sky's gun-hand, and due to not surrendering his weapon, Sky's wrist cracks.

Sky exhales sharply, finally letting go of his revolver, allowing Michael to take it and throw it away. He then drives his elbow in to bash Sky's jaw.

Sky takes the robust strike but doesn't topple, and instead he winds back like a coil and headbutts Michael on his nose. Once Michael is stunned and croaking in pain, Sky uses his functioning hand to snatch Michael's revolver and twist it away, but the weapon-holder is quick to pull the trigger, sending his last bullet right into Sky's left abdomen.

"Grhmph!" Another bullet travels rips through Sky's body, shocking him from the burst of pain, though he continues to twist the weapon away, cocking back for another headbutt. He slams his forehead into Michael's nose once more, and it cracks audibly, breaking unnaturally to the left with blood now furiously running down his nostrils. Sky pulls the gun away, taking it into his grip, and he attempts to fire off into Michael.

Click! Cli-cli-click!

"Fhk!" Sky grumbles, throwing the empty gun at Michael's head. It connects with a bone-on-metal clank, causing Michael to stumble back, hunch over, and hold himself. Sky himself grasps his hand over the fresh bullet wound in his abdomen, falling onto one knee.

They both toil in their pain for a moment, then lift their heads to lock eyes.

Michael stares with a twitching grin. "... Th... There it is again... eheh. There's that gold in your eyes... richer than the mineral of the Earth..."

Sky stares back with pure disdain.

"... They glow just like yer dad's... just like yer brother's. Whatever you are, you just don't fuckin' die. I'd-- mrh-- even put money down to say, you're tougher than both yer older family... they'd be dead by now." He sighs disappointedly, shaking his head slowly. "You're somethin' alright. Hell, we could'a had it all, Sky. We--" he is briefly interrupted by a blood-ridden cough before righting himself and wiping his broken nose, "-- we could'a made this land ours. With you by my side, we could'a had everythin'. We could'a had a good life. ... Ain't that what you wanted? A good life fer you 'n your sister? ... Especially yer sister... m'I right?"

Sky's already furrowed brows tense even further, causing them to twitch.

Michael chuckles half-heartedly. "You know I'm right."

Sky grunts as he rises onto his feet, continuously keeping his eyes locked onto Michael's.

Michael remains still, only waiting to be approached.

Sky limps forward, coming into grappling distance with him. He reaches out with his good hand, grasping Michael by his plaid shirt, pulling him in, and sending his right elbow into his face.

Michael spits and bleeds from his mouth, taking the attack as if he wanted it. He then reaches out and grapples as well, driving his fist from under to cram it into Sky's chin for an uppercut, then following up with a sharp knee to his gut.

Sky keels over, coughing out saliva and blood. He remains bent forward for only a moment, before suddenly rising back up with his own high-knee to Michael's diaphragm.

Michael's wind is knocked clean out, bending him over and throwing him into a coughing fit. Michael knows he's physically inferior to his ex-best friend, but he wanted to experience it first-hand. He dared enter a scrap with a man who can decapitate with only his fists. He wanted to see the explosive show of golden lights that he once saw before many years ago, but he has been denied his wish. His opposition had purposefully made the showdown harder on himself by not using his gift, only to spite and not give him the satisfaction.

Michael secretly admires Sky's stubbornness. It was one of his favorite things about him.

Sky grasps his head, kneeing him in the face hard enough to bring lightning to his conscious. Then, with a powerful left straight into his jaw, Michael finally stumbles backwards and falls onto the mud, feeling his face churning horribly.

Sky limps forward and stands above the toppled man, staring down at him with rage. He falls down onto his knees, pinning Michael onto the ground. He raises his trembling left fist into the air, clenching his teeth together in resentment.

"Y'know..." Michael coughs, gathering his last ounce of strength to speak. Sky's fist remains raised, but does not swing. "... I... saw this comin'..."

Sky doesn't reply, he only stares at Michael's barely-recognizable face as rain and blood further the mess.

"Knew I wasn't gonna win." He coughs profusely, clearing his muddled throat, "I... I always knew. ... Part'a me was hopin' you'd finish this, knew I couldn't keep it goin' forever without you. ... The other part of me really fuckin' hates you for actually doin' it. Yrh--Nngh... You've killed my best men... 'n today... you've killed my only men." His glossy brown eyes gaze softly into the trembling golden selves of the man above him. "Tell me, Sky... why'd you do it? Why'd you betray our family? The Black Spurs. Our grandfathers' empire... the one that cared for ya' and raised ya'. ... Why?"

Sky shakes his head slowly. "I told you, Michael... I told you to leave me alone... 'n you couldn't."

"Eh... heheh..." Michael grins wryly. "No. No I couldn't. ... Love you too much. We're... still friends... right, Sky?"

"... Not in this life."

"... Shame. Shame you lost track of what was important."

Sky tilts his head questioningly, pursing his lips to keep himself from growling.

"... Success."

"... Success?" Sky repeats atheistically.

"Yeah. The one thing that mattered. The one thing that'd given us the life we wanted."

"... Does success mean raping... pillaging... destroying homes and families that did nothin' wrong? ... That was success means to you?"

"Not everyone in the family was like that, Sky... 'n you know it."

Sky remains silent, only glaring down at the man who utters out his excuses.

"Aww, come now. Don't be like that. I-- mrh-- I mean... sure... I covered up some of the... 'bad deeds' our brothers would go 'n do, but... I look after my brothers. Just like you. How you look out fer yer sister." Sky squints furiously at this remark. "... How is she anyway? Been a number'a weeks since I've seen her. She in the house, all boarded up from the scary men out here?" After not receiving a response from Sky, he continues. "Been a while since I spoke to that dime-piece. Ever since we were kids, I wanted to get into her skirt. ... I ever tell you that? I ever tell you that I wanted to bed 'er?"

Sky's raised fist trembles.

"Heheah. 'M sorry, brother... didn't mean to make you angry, just... bein' honest, is all. ... God damn it... heh... this almost feel like one of them sparrin' spits we used to have when we was kids... 'cept... you won't be givin' me a hand to get me back up. You're drivin' me into the ground." Michael, for a final time, sees the glowing, putrid hate inside the eyes of the man that looms above him. "... Don't you forget me, Sky."

Sky finally drives his fist down, again and again, buffeting Michael until his face is churned a gory mess.

After an uncounted number of strikes, Michael finally lies dead, pooled in blood and mud. Lightning cracks the world a searing blue-white color, followed by a heart-rumbling thunder that rattles the ground.

Sky indolently stares at the dead man, his breath visibly leaves his mouth from the cold air.

He rises from his knees, slouched and gently swaying from overtrodden equilibrium and nearly losing consciousness. His shimmering golden orbs languidly look towards his house.

The doors were locked and the windows were boarded up, leaving the inside preserved against the entire showdown. He limps towards it, dragging his boots across the wet mud, the countless bodies, and the puddles of blood. He steps up the creaking wooden steps of the porch and stands in front of the door, resting himself against it and knocking. "Vi. ... Vi, it's me. It's safe..."

After a moment of reprieve, furniture is heard being disturbed from the inside, then the door clicks as it unlocks. Sky comes off of the door when it opens, revealing a girl standing on the other side. Her jet black hair droops over one eye, leaving only one of her cyan orbs visible.

The tailored blouse and skirt she wears is different shades of black and deep purple. Her nose is tinted pink, her cheeks are warm from crying and sickness. Her expression is horrified as she witnesses the dying state of her brother.

Sky cracks Viola a wry smile, trying to appease to her shock just before his lights flicker off. He loses consciousness on his feet, slowly leaning forward into the arms of his sister.

She holds him firmly, wasting no time to come to his aid. She backpedals with him inside, kicking the door shut before resting him down on the wall next to the door. She quickly undresses him from his blood-battered soaked clothing.

She moves with haste, jogging to the restroom to retrieve a towel and return to Sky, drying his naked form from water and grime. She looks at every wound on his body, every bullet hole, every bruise, puncture, laceration and disjointing.

Her glistening half-lidded eyes scan his body, silently thanking him for not dying. She wouldn't know what to do if the only family member she had remaining left her.

The violent exchange between Sky and the Black Spurs lasted from dawn to dusk, nearly twelve hours of bullets, blood, and death. The raid on this homestead was the gang's final attempt at squashing out the man who once had connections to them. Now with Michael's death, the gang has no leader, it has no direction, and with newly-rising law-enforcement in the south, the Black Spurs will eventually disband into vagrants.

The shadow-gang that once held control over political and militant affairs from behind curtains of secrecy through out all southern United States is no longer.

Viola begins to undress herself now, undoing her corset and unlacing her blouse, sliding her stockings off, then placing the pieces of clothing carefully on a stray couch that was used to board the door.

Once she frees herself of her clothing, she collects a moist towelette from the restroom, returning to her brother with haste. She gets down on her knees before him, reaching out and placing her hand on his chest.

Her eyes close, and the palm of her hand begins to glow a faint golden color. Her lips quiver from the pain of sacrificing skin from her thighs and her own blood to transfer new and vigorous cells into her brother, effectively speeding up the healing process of his body. With her current cold, her body selectively picks and chooses from her healthy cell pool to donate.

The wounds on the Sky's body, in such a grotesque and quick display, cease their bleeding and close as flesh forms in real time. The bullets lodged in his body pop out like jumping beans, and cracks are heard as the bones in his body snap back into place.

After sharing enough of herself to restore him to a stable state, she takes the towelette and pats down the minute bleeding on her thighs.

She solemnly eyes her unconscious brother. Her heart flutters in emotion at seeing him in such a vulnerable state. She is used to seeing him this way, bleeding and roughed up, as it's a tendency of his to get hurt, but this is the worst he has ever been.

He let himself get this way - the battle he just finished fighting could have ended sooner and cleaner had he used his gift. But instead, he kept it stowed away, stealing the satisfaction from Michael. His back-stabbing, ex-bestfriend takes his crave and wonder to the grave.

Viola will never understand why he would put his life in danger for a vendetta, but she's grateful her stubborn brother is still alive.

She gazes at his face, at how innocent and helpless he looks in this very moment. Her eyes shimmer in ardor, a kind that makes her heart beat faster and tints her cheeks pink. She leans herself towards him, planting a soft, unobtrusive kiss on his lips, then up onto his forehead. She does not know whether or not he would ever condone her sentiments for him... so, just as she has done for as long as she can remember, she will keep them hidden away and admire him from a distance.

She rises up and takes her brother's clothing. She retrieves a sewing kit from the bathroom, returning to the living room right after and sitting down on the couch. She begins mending the roughed-up rags that her brother always manages to ruin in his escapades, despite her constant efforts to keep his clothes whole.

The storming night continues on as the two remain together in their broken home. Viola has a small smile forming on her lips, finding happiness in finally being free from the curse that plagued their family for generations. She hums to herself a nursery tune that her mother used to sing to her before she passed away, slowly swaying her head from left to right as she sows up Sky's ruined duster.

After sewing up the torn clothes, she moves to fit them back onto her brother slowly and methodically. She gently pats his chest and unwrinkles his duster collar with uncounted joy. She thinks forward, smiling at how Sky is probably going to get up first thing in the morning as if nothing had happened, getting started immediately on sorting the yard out, cleaning up bodies and fixing up what was broken. He is going to need his work clothes whole and intact for that.

After Viola sorts his attire and gives him one more kiss on the forehead, she returns to the couch. She fixes her gaze on her brother, blinking tiredly as she moves to rest her head on a couch pillow. She sniffles - her eyes remain on him until they close, and her smile never leaves her face. The happiness welling in her heart gives her the warmth she needs to sleep soundly. She hopes her brother is doing the same.

After a lifetime of tragedy, they can start over and live in peace. Tomorrow will be a new day.

...

"I see you, Arch Angel. Your gift is unique. Beautiful. I need you now. Please... pardon my reach..."

Sky's eyebrows twitch. These words, uttered by an unknown, feminine voice, are the final thoughts ruminated by his consciousness before it is absorbed. His world is pulled distant from him.

Act 1: Hazel Eyes

~ Equestria, Canterlot ~<
January 24th, Sunday, 21:54

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‎

A young moon hangs high above the ancient city of marble and gold, one ruled by the two young celestial sisters. The Sister of the Night, Luna, is vigilant on her dark blue, purple, and onyx throne, colored to match herself.

Celestia, the Sister of the Day, has retreated to her quarters for the evening. Now she sits under candlelight at her desk, located across the foot-end of her regal red and gold bed. She channels her vibrant yellow magic through her long, spiraling horn to dance a quill across parchment. Occasionally, she uses said magic to move her solid pink mane out of her face as it falls over her eyes from her semi-hunched position.

Weary and ready for rest, she scans her tired eyes across the words she wrote once again before finalizing her message. It takes a few seconds, but she manages to focus intently from the top.

The stress of ruling a country which emerged ‘victorious’ from the Great War roughly twenty years ago weighs heavily upon her still - a battle which involved every major country on Equus, with ponies having defended themselves from dragon and changeling forces for nearly eight-hundred years.

With much recovery yet to be had by Equestria, she has little time for extra curriculars such as what she is doing now. Still, she forces the time. She shoves everything and anything out of the way to get this letter sent – a letter that she has been meaning to send for years. In this case, she moves aside her precious sleep to reread this letter one last time.

To my dearest pupil,

I know you want nothing more but to be left alone. The horrors you had to endure have not been lost on me, even after the seven years you have been gone. I know you have told me time and time again that you want no charity from me, but I have conjured an idea that will surely satisfy both of our concerns.

At my request, the human rally being held at the end of the month has been pre-configured to house the most favorable options for at-home training and domestic care. I know that you have yet to conclude your personal tests – a work which has remained incomplete for many years after you left Canterlot.

With that said, I believe this would be a perfect opportunity to finally add closure to those tests, even if at a smaller scale. This would also serve to ease the pain in my heart knowing that you finally have companionship after your prolonged isolation. I beg that you accept this gift. But, if you wish to reject it, please send me a letter of reply before the end of the week. If I receive no correspondence or if you send a letter of acceptance, please be prepared for your gift to arrive at exactly eighteen-hundred on Friday directly to your bedroom. I will assume the layout of your home has not changed.

I want nothing but the best for you, Moonlight. I miss you dearly. I hope to hear from you soon, even if the message you relay is negative. Maybe one day you may grace me with your presence again.

My loving regards,

Celestia

With a deep exhale through her nose, she sets the quill back into its pot and leaves the parchment splayed so it may dry. She rises from her desk, nearly falling asleep before she even reaches her bed. She kicks her golden slippers off, unlatches her breastplate, and sets her crown down on the nightstand next to her bed.

Within seconds of crawling onto her soft, inviting bed, she succumbs to sleep. She bothered not to even cover herself with blankets to stave off the cold night.

‎

‎

~ Equestria, the Everfree Forest ~<
January 25th, Monday, 7:42

‎

Morning comes. The hazy rays of the sun aggressively sting everything that attempts to sleep under its gaze.

This includes a human man who lies flat on his back. He twitches at the terrible burning throughout his body, feeling as if he had been forced through an industrial drier. His eyelids tremble before they slowly break open, and his exhausted hazel eyes stare at the sky. He watches clouds lazily flying by through a mass of tall trees and vines. He does not realize it, but his ability to properly rationalize is completely absent.

He remains there, resting on a bed of grass as the world passes him by. He is not sure how long he lies there, listening to the chimes of nature that fill the environment, without a single thought passing through his head.

Finally, lost of any particular rhyme or reason, he decides it is time to rise. He sits up, rubbing his eyes and forehead before he takes in his surroundings. He sees he is inside some sort of jungle, or a forest maybe. This much greenery comes off as alien to him. Everything is completely unfamiliar. Sounds of animals and rustling flora breathe life into this humid expanse.

He looks down at his hands, staring at the back, then his palms. Everything in this place feels surreal, the first and only contemplation that strikes him is that this is just a dream. His mind draws blanks at every corner, and even if he felt like stopping to think, nothing would make sense. Blurry memories are present in his mind, but he does not think on them, he only skims over them as if they were not important.

He gets up onto his feet and focuses again on his current location. The first thing he notices is that he is standing in the middle of a rather unnatural clearing. A faded path, he thinks. There is no way nature would cut and topple grass and vines in this pattern. He silently assumes that this path is probably how people get in and out of this jungle without getting completely lost. He takes a faith fall in one of the path’s directions in hopes that it will lead to a nearby town, and he begins his trek.

With no objective, no goal in mind, he keeps moving. He looks down at himself, noticing that he is in his working get-up, consisting of a dark grey cloth shirt, dark grey slacks, brown boots, and brown duster coat. The air is slightly nippy, so this form of attire could not be better. His deep red hair that he usually keeps tidy is a mess, unkempt and flowing in a backwards manner. Dark circles mark his lower eyelids, drawing an air of deprivation on his face. He has become accustomed to being unable to sleep very well, but his exhaustion does not serve him well in this dreamy endeavor.

The sparking engine that is his mind barely registers any stimulus around him. It is almost as if he is in auto-pilot, having his body moving autonomously while his consciousness simply tags along for the ride. He continues walking and shifting his half-lidded eyes, keeping on the dirt path.

Soon, he comes to a stop when this awkwardly formed, extremely faded path he took leads him to an end, in front of a large, rocky jut of earth. It is some sort of cave entrance, a mine maybe. What really prods his interest is the golden-encrusted doorframe and door that gives entry to this mysterious structure. Whatever it is he found, it is definitely man-made.

That surreal feeling still envelops his senses. A dreamy feeling. This is definitely a dream, he thinks. This forest, this door, and everything about his current situation, the only feasible conclusion is that he's still asleep. Viola is probably going to make breakfast soon, and she will wake him up like she always does.

So then, curious and without caution, he reaches to the door’s dust-covered, oddly shaped door handle. He gasps it and tugs it lightly, attempting to pull it open.

Click

His eyes narrow and his brows furrow, hearing an odd mechanism from the other side activate. “Hrgh,” he grunts, taking one step back away from the door.

But his caution is futile. There is a pang and a wisp, and something comes shooting out from the left side of the forest. He feels a sharp, burning sensation on his left shoulder, causing him to grunt and backpedal from the door quickly. Upon examining his arm, he sees a white, feather-ended dart stuck to his shoulder. Even though he is seeing the dart impaled into him, he does not internalize what has happened to him.

His entire left arm quickly goes numb. This may be a dream, but the pain is so real. He reaches for the dart, wincing when he forcefully yanks it out. He brings the dart up to his face and examines it. He is impressed at how deep it was lodged, at least an inch deep. The end of the dart still seems to be dripping some sort of poison.

Only seconds pass and the toxin works its beauty. He huffs an unsteady breath as his legs begin to go numb and his balance begins to fail. He attempts to take a few more steps away from the door, but falls to his knees instead. His vision blurs as he loses sensation to the left half of his body. Perhaps this is not a dream and he is actually in danger.

He tries to speak, attempting to call for anyone who could help, but his mouth only falls to lazily hang open. The sensations he feels mix erratically, they feel so real, but they also do not make any sense.

He cannot use his voice, and he cannot move anymore. It appears that he is not going to get any help. So now, he ponders whether he should fall forward and close his eyes, or continue trying to struggle. If this is a dream, there is really no reason to struggle. He will wake up, and everything will be fine. Just some sort of weird nightmare.

In the off-chance that it is not, he is probably screwed. But he is too dazed to give it very much thought.

He unwillingly chooses the former when he slumps forward, cheek hitting the moist dirt. He stares at the golden door with falling eyelids. He has known every small town near his stead his entire life, and he does not ever remember seeing anything like this before. He does not remember a forest being located even remotely nearby.

The sleepy feeling drowns away any effort to keep thinking critically. The sounds of nature slowly fade away as he closes his eyes. Maybe he will wake up. It is probably just a dream.

‎

‎

His breathing is quiet and rasp. He can feel his heart beating in his ears. He is barely conscious, and he is too weak to try and open his eyes.

He thinks he can hear some footsteps. Sounds like someone walking with heavy shoes on wooden floor. Viola? Viola is probably awake already. Maybe. She does not walk in the house with shoes on, so it could not be her clacking the floor like that.

Alas, he deems it too difficult to come up with a concrete conclusion. Thinking is too hard right now, maybe he should just sleep some more.

He finds that to be a great idea, and into the dreamscape he melds again.

‎
‎

‎ ‎

‎

~ Equestria, ??? ~<
‎ January 27th, Wednesday, 18:02

‎

Consciousness returns, sensations come flooding back. Everything hurts. A lot. Pain shocks his body when he tries to move.

He forces his eyes open, closes them, then forces them open again. He stares at a wooden ceiling, an unfamiliar ceiling. An unfamiliar bed. A rather small bed, actually. His feet are hanging off the opposite end to the headrest.

With some effort, he moves his head to look around the room. There is a nightstand next to the bed on the left, a closet dresser on the other side to the right, and a window next to that dresser which looks out to an unfamiliar sight. A wall of trees and shrubbery sit after a flowing river that falls off of a cliff-side nearby. The forest there is possibly the same forest he was in previously before being rescued. At least, he assumes he was rescued. He jumps to the conclusion that he is still dreaming. He knows it is probably not a dream, but he cannot find an answer in any other region of his brain.

The room he is in is very simple, almost too simple. No decorations, no paintings, flowers, furnishings, nothing. It is slightly irksome, but the structural integrity of the room he is in is clean and promising.

After staring around for a while, he decides he should try to stand up. With a heave and a ho’, he hauls himself up, sitting upright on the bed. He lets out a groan as he does, his eyes go crossed for a moment. He takes off the red and grey blankets that cover him and sets them aside. He swings his legs off the left side of the bed, sitting on the edge. The bed is strangely low to the ground. Now that he thinks of it, everything in here is kind of small. The dresser is not very big, the nightstand might as well be a footstool, and that door that exits the room looks like a headache waiting to happen.

He stands up, stumbling over to the wall closest to him as to support his weak form. He remains still and gets his bearings, breathing in deeply to fill his body with much-needed oxygen.

He immediately notices that his clothes are missing. All of them. Including undergarments. Going commando. He cannot be sure who took his clothes and what the reason for it was, but he will be sure to give them a stern talking-to about modesty.

He no longer hears the steps that he swore he heard earlier, and the lack of sounds or talking from the other parts of the home allows him to deem his nakedness unimportant for the moment. Though it may be due to a lack of better judgement, but he opines that gathering information on his current whereabouts is more important than fretting over his uncalled for nudity.

Once confident in his strength, he stops leaning on the wall and stands on his own. His knees feel weak, his arms are heavy. Dry palms though. Dry everything. He is dehydrated and terribly hungry.

”Water…”

He smacks his dry mouth and places a hand on his empty stomach. He slowly paces towards the oddly short door, opening it and peering to the other side. It leads into a hallway, and this hall contains another neighboring door to this one on the left, and two doors adjacent on the other side of the hall. The right side of the hall leads towards the living room and kitchen, they appear to be conjoined as one large room. He finds this layout oddly familiar. He ducks his head down and exits the bedroom.

He stretches his back as he walks, a mixture of a yawn and a grunt of pain leaving his opened mouth. His feet lightly resonate against the sturdy wooden floor with each step. The kitchen is small, just as everything else here. The living room on the other side has a three-cushion couch and a single cushion couch, plus a tiny coffee table in the middle. They're awkwardly shaped, but the strange furniture is the least of his concerns as he strides over to the kitchen faucet, turning it on and chugging water in a terribly immodest fashion. He closes his eyes and savors every drop.

After nearly water-logging himself, he pulls away and lets out a deep sigh. He clears his throat, banishing the frogs from inside, then he stretches his vocal chords by saying 'hello' in several different pitches. His eyes scan his surroundings while he rubs his neck.

To his pleasant surprise, there on the counter-top next to the water faucet is a plate of watermelon slices, three to be exact. He knows it is rude to take without asking, but he will be sure to make up for his indulging behavior in due time. Who ever it is that rescued him, he is deeply in debt to them already. So, with no holds barred, he attacks the slices of delicious fruit until there is nothing left but green smiles.

With something to keep his stomach occupied for a while, he finally takes some time to grab a hold of his situation. The first thing he checks is his left shoulder. Indeed, there is a small red hole where the dart went in. He touches it with his right index finger, furrowing his brows. For the considerable amount of damage it caused, he feels completely fine.

"Guess I’m… fine," he whispers to himself, speaking aloud without actively trying to. His voice is deep and has a rigid western drawl. "… Where in the hell am I?" he questions quietly, looking around this inappropriately sized home. He finds it comfortable, taking on an aesthetic that is right at home with him. Good old hard wood as the frame inside, probably cinder block on the outside. Hardwood floors, walls, ceiling. Fine craftsmanship, even if the proportions are not quite right.

He runs his finger along the kitchen counter-top, which is made of wood as well. Not a spec of dust or grime. This lodge of-sorts is missing a lot of personal touch to it in the decorations department, but it makes up for it in cleanliness.

Though now all of that water he drank is coming back like a boomerang as the outdoors begin to call to him. He is not sure where the restroom is and he does not want to go prying deep into someone else's home without their knowing. He thinks taking care of business outside would be the modest thing to do, and besides, being cooped up inside for so long is making him a little restless. He begins his way to the front door, reaching for the handle—

“Nh,” he grunts and juts backwards as the door opens by itself. ”What the…?”

“What the!?” a voice calls. A raspy, tomboy-ish female voice.

Standing at the doorframe, he sees a horse... thing. A small horse with huge eyes. And it just spoke. It looks at him, confused and bewildered. The same expression takes his face. He cannot begin to fathom what he is looking at. It even has wings... feathered wings.

”What in the god damn...?”

The horse thing has deep black hair with grey highlights, bright, expressive magenta eyes, and a tan coat that is covered in dirt and musk. The horse is also wearing clothes. It looks like a faded green cloth over-shirt with a grey undershirt. The over-shirt is fitted with pockets and—

“You’re… awake?” the horse says, causing his train of thought to crash and burn. She pauses, as if to take his existence in. Her posture is tense, defensive even, but as he simply stands there and does nothing, she slowly relaxes. “... Huh. That's, uh... good. After your second day out, I didn’t think you were gonna make it.” She chuckles somewhat awkwardly and puts up a wry smile. An odd smile. Nothing about her is normal to him, but seeing a facial expression like that on such a creature is baffling. "Glad you did though, sure would have sucked if you died. Now I'll probably be able to sell you by tomorrow evening, at LEAST two-thousand bits to some horny Canterlot mare. Easy.” Her smile is seemingly directed to herself. "Maybe more than that. You sure are a handsome one, let me tell ya'~ It’s the stupid, handsome ones that sell the best. Plus, with those looks and that thing between your legs, you'll bid faster than my mom's old cherry fritters~"

His eyes are plastered on her with deep criticism. He is ripe to try and speak up, but the very idea of what he is witnessing forces his mouth closed and his mind to sprint. "Tryn'a sell me? 'M I in some reach of Mexico that got English-speakin' animals selling humans?"

“Wonder who your owner was. They seriously dropped the ball letting you get lost. Well-trained and quiet, my two favorite things. Welp, their loss.” She turns to look at him, bringing her flank into the air and stretching. Bones pop audibly and she sighs in relief. “Got a full day of things to do and places to see tomorrow. Gonna need to find a way to hold you down till then. Leeet’s see here…” The talking horse reaches into her bags with her muzzle, taking out a collar and a leash.

The man's eyes sharpen in distaste. All trepidation and confusion is replaced with brash survival instinct. The horse makes her way towards him, collar in her mouth.

Just as he assumed, she flies up to him with her wings and uses her right hoof to take the collar, reaching over to strap it around his neck--

Clasp.

"Gch!" the tan horse's eyes dilate to grains of sand. The human has suddenly reached out with his hand, gripping the horse's hoof to keep her from collaring him.

"... You ain't gonna put that shit on me," he states sternly.

“Yck! Ick!" The horse tries to pull her hoof away, but finds her strength completely overwhelmed by his. She flaps her wings quickly in a panic to get loose. Willingly, he lets her go, causing her to drop the collar onto the floor and fly back, falling back down onto her four legs. Her mortified expression trembles back at him as she steps all the way until she presses up against the door. "You-- You could TALK the entire TIME!?"

"Yeah."

"You--You--! You understand me!? What the fuck!? You--Yooou--!” A blush takes her face, from her cheeks to her muzzle.

"I'm just as turned around as you are, horse, but I need to go outside 'n piss," he says as he walks towards her, heading towards the door which she is blocking.

The small horse’s mind short-circuits, but her body moves instinctively. With a mixture of disgust and anger, she flies up with her wings to move out of the way, glaring at him with pure bewilderment without looking away once.

The man speed-walks out the door, nearly hitting his head on the way out. He stomps past the wooden porch and down some steps onto the grass. He scopes quickly. He finds a suitable tree to run behind, and lets Niagara fall.

The little tan horse, left alone in the lodge while the human relieves himself, churns her face sourly and shakes her head. She lands from flight near the coffee table, still shook by what just happened. “Seriously, what in tartarus was that! That… that THING was--! ... It can talk!? ... Huugh, I was talking about his dick right in front of him, AND I called him handsome! ... Oh my goodness...” Her ears lie flat on her head and her eyes squint in self-disdain.

The human comes walking back into the house, shutting the door behind himself.

The horse grits her teeth and immediately shifts her accusative gaze towards him. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to--! … do…?” She tilts her head in confusion.

“… What?” asks the human, holding a large forest leaf over his crotch.

“… What’re you doing?”

“The hell you think? It’s called modesty. You took my clothes and decided it fit to hide 'em.”

“Oh. Your… clothes. … Ehehe, yeah, about that…” The horse rubs the back of her head, causing the human to squint. The mare clears her throat and continues, “I… um. Kind of sold them.”

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’.” He brings his palm to his forehead.

“They were worth a lot, at least! And like you even NEED clothes! Humans don’t wear clothes!”

“You’re insane, horse. Humans don’t wear clothes? I’m sure the unfortunate souls havin’ to bare witness to my hangin’ cock would say otherwise. Where in the sam-hell am I? Where's my sister?” His tone progressively sharpens.

The mare recoils defensively. “Horse!? Pony! I'm a pony, not a damn horse! No duh we talk! How are YOU talking? And what sister!? I found you alone! You’ve got a lot of explaining to do!” The little pony stomps her hoof on the wooden floor and becomes visibly agitated.

“Explainin’? I ain’t explainin’ shit, lil' miss 'gonna sell you to some horny mare.' I'm ripe to find the fucker responsible fer this mess 'n put 'em in the ground...”

The tan pony gawks him down bitterly, seeing that he now blocks the exit. He returns the favor and glares at her in return. They keep this standoff, waiting for one of them to break face.

"... Less that fucker was you," the man utters.

The winged pony visibly startles. She does her best to appear firm and angry, but it becomes increasingly difficult to keep her composure under his stare and his words. His body has cuts and scars everywhere, the bags under his eyes give him a sinister appearance, and the sharp, frizzled energy of his hair makes him look unstable. He is easily three times her size. Maybe more.

The mare finally caves in. "F-Fine! It wasn't me, I have no idea how you even got here! I'll tell you what I saw, just... stay over there and don't hurt me."

"Looks like I won't need to. Start talkin’."

With his simple reply, the pony visibly relaxes. "... This is crazy. A talking human. Wow. I wouldn't believe it, but it's right here. Guess pigs will start flying next.” She drops her defensive position and stands straight, looking at the human who is still protecting his soft spot. “You’re in Equestria, I guess. Land of the 'talking horses.'”

"Is that a state or a country?"

"What? Seriously? Equestria is like, one of the world's biggest countries. How could you not know this?"

"Because we don't have a damn 'Equestria' where I'm from. You meanin' to tell me I ain't even on Earth?"

"What the 'hell' is an Earth?"

"... Jesus." He lets his head hang with sorrow. His uses his free hand to press his index finger and his thumb against his eyes harshly. "... Well... guess I'll follow up with, what 'world' are we in?"

"... Equus," she responds with a bit more patience than before. "... Since you’re obviously not from ‘here', you're from... Earth.”

He sighs deeply, only now internalizing the situation he is found present in. “... Yeah. Land of the talkin’ humans. A country named America. Fixin’ to believe I ain’t dreamin’.”

“Definitely not a dream. Better realize it soon."

"You'll excuse me if I take time to adjust."

"Yeah. Sure. ... So, uh... how did a talking ape appear in Equestria?”

“That was my next question... was hopin' you had an answer to that." His heart beats in his ears as his tension pulses around his body harshly. "This don't make sense. How the fuck did this even happen? Ain't got a clue how I got here, and it's frustratin' me to no end.”

“Yeah, well, YOU don’t exactly make any sense either. You’re not supposed to even exist. Humans. Don’t. Talk.”

“Quit jumpin' at me, I didn't ask to be suddenly transported to horse land. Ain't nobody I know that got the power to plant me on foreign soil like this. All I know is that I don't belong here, and I need out of this place and back to mine. I've got a sister to take care of, and I bet she's worried sick because I suddenly up 'n left."

“Yeah, good luck with that. You’re probably just gonna get killed or sold to some fancy-shmancy elite in Canterlot.” She looks away dismissively. “Hmh. Or worse.”

The man eyes her silently, slowing down to think. This leads to him simply eyeing her for a few seconds as she puffs her chest in an attempt to dismiss him. "... I've got a proposition." The pony’s eyes turn to the human irately. “I don’t know a thing about this ‘Equestria’ place. I won’t get killed, promise you that... but I don't know the first thing about the land or who lives here. Won’t know where to go, or what to do.”

“What are you suggesting?” She flicks her tail with false disinterest.

He gazes into her eyes with his unintentionally bored, unamused expression. "I’m gonna need your help to get home. You seem to know your way around. If I somehow got here, there's a somehow on gettin' back, right? Help me get home, I'll be out of your hair and you can keep the money you got from sellin' my clothes."

“And WHY do I have to help you? Just like you said, I've got too many things to worry about that don't involve this."

“Hmh. Already got the money from what's mine. Suppose you don’t really have to. No one's forcin' you, least I certainly won't. Consider it my gesture fer you rescuin' me, even if yer intentions were ill-made. I’ll be gone tonight and you won’t see me ever again. Ain’t gotta worry about that freaky talkin’ human anymore." He looks away towards the door.

“I’ve got enough trouble,” the pony says, looking at the ground. "... Good luck finding your way back home." The human looks at the pony once again, giving her a complete look-down. Her eyes shift towards and away from him over and over as she feels his weighty gaze. After some silence, her ears drop to her head and her muzzle scrunches. "What?"

“What’s yer name?”

“Why do you even care?”

“Just wanna know the name of the, uh…” he clears his throat, “pony... that saved me from rotting out there, and tell her thanks. Couldn't make it home if I was dead.”

The pony remains looking at the ground for a moment before she lifts her head and looks proudly at the human, as if some sort of inner ego resurged inside of her. “I don't know why I'm bothering to tell you this, but... the name's Dahlia Do."

"Got a nice ring to it."

"I know it does, but listen. If you ever speak to anypony about me for whatever reason, my name's Wisp. And leave it at that. Otherwise, you're dead to me.”

"Uh... sure, I guess. Any reason why?"

"It's none of your business."

He shrugs and follows it by nodding in acceptance. “Right, well. Pleasure to meet you, Dahlia. Thanks. Fer savin’ me 'n all. It’s appreciated.”

“Yeah, yeah, save the soft stuff for someone who likes that crap." Her ears suddenly perk up when a thought comes across her. "… Hey, I’m curious. How do you feel right now?”

“Now that you mention it, I feel fine actually,” he replies, looking down at his shoulder that still has a puncture wound from the dart.

“… That was a lot of poison pumped into you. I was sucking for like half an hour."

“Huh. You must’a gotten to me just after I blacked out if you were still able to do that.”

“Well, I don’t know when you passed out, but the wound was still fresh. It also looked like the poison wasn’t able to spread around much. There was a lot of it, but it didn’t go everywhere, which is... weird. But also lucky for you. That amount of paralysis poison in those darts is enough to topple several ponies or humans. A bison even. How'd you pass out if it didn't spread anywhere?” She delivers a skeptical look.

“Just as clueless as you are. Felt like it did when it hit me."

“… Mm. Well, whatever, I guess. So. What’s your name?” Dahlia questions.

“’Why do you even care?’” he replies boredly.

“Ha, ha. Very original. When you’ve got a manticore sneaking up behind you, I won’t know your name to tell you you’re in danger.” She flicks her tail with a pseudo lack of interest.

“Folks that I know at a personal level call me Crimson. Reckon you can do the same."

Dahlia smiles slightly. "Crimson, huh? Crimson, crimson, crimson. Weird word when you say it a lot."

"Lotta words end up that way if you do that. Anyways, do they sell human clothes here? Suppose they do since you sold mine.”

“Okay, I get it. Stop harping me about that. I'll get you some, but we’ll get on that tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, huh? That to say we're a team?"

"Don't get too excited. For now, just… uuh… here.” She trots off towards her room.

Crimson watches her disappear behind the doorframe. He stands there, his resting face unlively and exhausted. Dahlia finally comes back with a small grey cotton shirt that seems fairly stretchy.

“Here. Put this around your waist or whatever. And don’t get your junk smell all over it.”

“Yeah. Seein' as how you were real keen on commenting about it earlier, wouldn't want you enjoyin’ it.” He says this so sarcastically, he almost sounds serious. He sets the leaf he was holding onto a counter next to him, then he takes the shirt and ties it around his waist.

She scoffs, unable to hide a small blush that forms on her cheeks. “Gross. Don’t say shit like that. Like, ever again." She tries to regain her cold composure with a deep inhale. "... So. If you're looking to tag along with me, you're playing by my rules. The game plan I had for tomorrow is to resupply. That’ll be a good opportunity to get you familiar with the world around you. If we’re gonna help you get home, you gotta know the ropes. Luckily for you, you’ve got Equestria’s number one tomb raider and adventurer to aid your cause.”

“You steal from dead folk?”

“Yes. I mean, well, I guess. Don’t word it like that!” He gestures with his hands carefully and apologetically. “You wasted almost three days sleeping on my bed. It probably smells like you now."

"Three days? Damn. That's gotta be more sleep than I've gotten in the past month."

"What? Are you serious?" she asks with concern, to which he nods tiredly. "That's horrible. What's wrong with you?"

"... Not sure."

Dahlia sighs out another stressed breath. "Well try your best to get some sleep, because we’re gonna be up bright and early tomorrow. I won’t have you lagging behind me.” The man nods with seldom a reaction. “... You sure you're okay?” She leans a little closer to him.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Somethin' wrong?"

"You just look kind of... dull-face. Out of it. That's pretty standard for humans in Equestria, but I know you can make faces."

"Making faces is hard."

"... Is it really?"

"Nah, 'm kiddin'. Just born this way, I suppose."

Dahlia huffs and rolls her eyes. “That wasn't a good joke."

"No?" he asks facetiously.

"No. Listen, I’m the only smartass around here. Don't try and be funny with me, alright?"

"... Alright," he answers, sounding unsure on purpose.

"Seriously. The only one allowed to makes jokes is me. Now get some sleep. You look... bad," she comments as she makes her way to her room.

“I'll give it effort. G’night, Dahlia.” His eyes follow her as she recedes.

The gesture of telling her goodnight appears to cause her to freeze in place momentarily. It seems like she is contemplating what to say in return, which only turns out to be, “... Yeah.”

Her door shuts and Crimson is left to his own. He looks around the quiet, darkening home. He finds the couch speaking to him, so he walks over to it, sitting down and coming down onto his back. His calves and feet hang off the edge, but the couch itself is rather comfortable.

He stares at the ceiling, his mind starts to rattle - rattle with all of the things he knows he should be thinking about. Only few things come up in his mind, his sister, his home, his family... and that voice. Maybe with a good night’s rest, things will come back.

He closes his eyes, exhaling deeply through his nose. He prays to the up above that this is just some sort of fucked up nightmare.

Dodge Junction

~ The Everfree Forest, Dahlia's Cabin ~<
January 28th, Thursday, 6:57

‎

“Crimson?”

“Huh?” He sits up from his laying position, eyes breaking open to stare into the void. He then focuses on Dahlia, now realizing he is sitting on the living room floor.

“… Dude, you look horrible.” Dahlia tilts her head, looking him up and down. "I thought you slept on the couch."

“Yeah, nah, I, uh..." He stops briefly, fixing his thoughts. He looks around, finding great disappointment in still being far from home. He sighs, getting himself composed before continuing. "I did. Probably fell off the couch while I was sleeping."

"... You, uh... you alright?"

"I'm fine.” Dahlia tilts her head back slightly, cringing her face to overtly display her disbelief. "Serious."

She eyes him quietly for a moment. The skepticism is obvious on her face, but she decides not to prod further. “... If you say so. C’mon, breakfast and then go. No time to lose.” Dahlia turns around, trots to the kitchen, and opens a cupboard containing pans. She takes one and places it on a burner, then using a matchbox next to the stovetop to strike a fire and set the burner alight.

Crimson rises to his feet. Feeling the need to relieve himself, he decides to finally locate the bathroom. He walks to the hallway, examining each door. They are all closed except for one on the far right. He moves to it, peering inside. He catches sight of a toilet and a sink.

He opens the door completely and walks into the restroom, stopping at the toilet. He can already hear the kitchen sounding off the music of food being prepared.

Crimson closes his eyes as he urinates, feeling himself getting stressed as his mind races backwards.

"Hey... sorry about your father. He was a good man. ... He loved you and your sister very much."

The stress of the position he is currently in is settling. The thought of being unfathomably far from his sister tightens his chest. Though he wishes to overtly express his displeasure in many different ways, some of them loud and aggressive, he suppresses those feelings and locks them away as best as possible. In the front of his mind, he understands he must keep a composed and critical mind in order to return home, especially now since he finds himself with new company.

All he hopes for now is that it does not take too long to get back to Viola, however that may be done.

After he is finished emptying his bladder, he redoes his makeshift loincloth and side-steps to the sink to rinse his hands. He then heads back out to the living area. He looks to Dahlia, who is dancing around the kitchen, pouring this, moving that, cutting there, sprinkling here. It is rather graceful, he thinks. Fast, efficient, but accurate. It hardly makes any sense since her body moves in ways that normal horses do not, and should not, but it is right there. He is seeing it with his own two eyes.

He moves to the stools that are perched next to the kitchen’s island counter, giving him a front row seat to this pony chef in action. “Where’d you learn to cook like that?” Crimson asks, gazing at Dahlia as she drops diced potatoes onto the pan.

“Self-taught."

"Looks like you're havin' fun."

"You could say that. One of the few daily things that isn’t a chore to me,” she responds without distraction.

"Don't suppose you'd like any help?"

"I'm good."

“... Hm.” His eyes trail off on their own, looking at the wall past her.

Dahlia shoots a quick glance at him, seeing him grimly flex his expression in thought. “... You sure you're feeling alright?"

"As alright as someone could be after bein' taken from his home."

Dahlia purses her lips, finding nothing else to add.

The man leans forward, putting his chin on his palm. A few minutes pass in silence as Dahlia finishes preparing breakfast. She takes the two plates onto her wings, walking over like a waitress would, or… like a pony waitress would. He finds it a seriously odd sight, but knows there is no use in questioning everything he sees.

She places one plate in front of Crimson and the other plate aside his. Dahlia hops onto the stool next to him, taking her seat. “Eat up. And make sure you eat all of it. Food gets expensive.”

Crimson nods, sitting up straight and taking a stubby, fork-esque utensil in his right hand. He looks over to— “… What in the world?” His mouth opens slightly in disbelief.

“What?” Dahlia asks with a mouthful of food.

“How'n the hell are you doing that?”

She swallows quickly. “Doing what?”

“The fork. How're you holding that thing?”

“What’s with that word you keep using? ‘Hell.’ What does that even mean?” Dahlia tracks Crimson's stare, down to the fork she is holding with her hoof. “The fork? Well duuh, I’m able to hold it like you’re able to hold it. I use the thing at the end of my arm. You need an anatomy lesson or what?”

“The-- …” Crimson bounces his squinted eyes between her and the end of her hoof. It is as if she does not understand that fingers are the entire reason he is able to hold his own utensil. Hers simply gravitate towards the shoe of her hoof or something. Her nonchalant attitude towards it signals to him that whatever it is she is doing, it is normal here. “… No. I don't.”

Dahlia shrugs and continues eating. Crimson focuses onto his plate, consisting of eggs with diced potatoes and cooked broccoli. After some prods with his fork and nothing else, the mare glances over to him again, speaking with a full mouth, "The point of the fork is to stab the food, then put it in your mouth."

"Had no idea. Thanks for the tip."

Dahlia swallows her food and sets down her fork, finished with her plate. "Listen. Crimson. I get there's a lot you might be going through right now. Are you actually up for heading out with me today? If you need another day of rest, then get it."

"Nah, I'm good. Really. Like I said, just tryin'a get my mind right, but there's no sense in wastin' time."

“Don’t think of stuff that will distract you, Crim. If we’re gonna do our thing today, I need your A-game."

He pauses briefly, glancing at her with a raised left brow after she uses a nickname for him. He smirks and stare back down at his plate. “Aye, aye, cap'n Deedee."

"Deedee?" Dahlia eyes him in return for the name used.

"Yeah, Deedee. Y'know, 'Dahlia Do?' Both start with 'D.' Deedee. You don't like it?"

"... It doesn't bother me, I guess. Never heard that nick before, and I've definitely had a few. ... Whatever, anyways, back to what you said. Are you having, like... memory problems? Fogged head and stuff?"

"Hm, it's not memory issues, I suppose, it's more like... like..." He drifts off, failing to come up with a comparative conclusion. "I can't really put it into words. It's just like certain memories are missing, but I don't remember what they could be."

“You can't remember what you don't remember, genius. Just don't worry about it for now. I need you focused,” she says, giving attention to Crimson’s half-finished plate.

“Yeah,” he hums, taking a few more bites of food before stopping once again. His eyes shift to Dahlia’s empty plate, then back to his. “Think I can ask you some stuff, Deedee?”

“Sure, but eat faster. The more daylight we have, the better.”

“… So, that mine or whatever - that place where you found me knocked over. Was that a place you were expectin' to be that day?” he asks before stabbing a potato slice and sticking it into his mouth.

“Yeah, I was gonna raid that temple until I saw you stretched out in front of it like a dead dog. Wasn’t able to get back to it after I dragged your fat ass all the way back to my lodge. That took literally all day.”

“Mm. Guess I got lucky, you bein’ there at that time and place,” he admits, taking more food into his mouth after.

“Not sure what the 'hell' you were thinking going to that place all by yourself with zero knowledge. You could have died."

“I couldn’t tell you what I was thinkin’ yesterday. Probably because I wasn’t. When I first woke up here, it’s like my body was doin' its own thing. I didn’t think, I just… moved. Almost felt like somethin’ was movin’ for me.” He sets his fork down, finally finished with his plate. "Somethin' about me doesn't feel right."

“So you don’t normally go around touching ancient gold-encrusted doors for the fun of it?”

Crimson shakes his head, still staring down at his fork. "Least I don't try to."

“Good, 'cause otherwise you'll die, and I certainly won't be dragging your body around. It was pretty stupid to go and do that, even if your body allegedly moved on its own.” She rests her foreleg on the counter-top, holding her head with her hoof.

“Yeah, yeah, get on my back about it if I do it again. First offense 'n all that. So, another thing I was curious about. Why'd you drag me all the way to your home? Sink all that time in gettin’ me safe? Bet it had somethin’ to do about sellin’ me for two-thousand 'pieces' or whatever.”

Dahlia straightens up instantly. “… Eehehe. Uh. Yeah, so, about that. I was… em…” Crimson shifts his eyes from his plate of food to her, giving her a dead-pan stare. She breaks easily at his glare, especially since he is rather close. “… Okay. Fine. Yeah. I was gonna sell you. You can't blame me! I mean, look at you! You're rare!” She points with both of her hooves as if she was presenting some sort of prize. "You would have fetched a serious bag of bits!"

“What’s so different about me? Humans where I come from aren’t very different from myself.”

“Well, lots of things when you really get down to it.” Dahlia looks at him, scanning up and down. “For one, you’re freaky tall. You’ve got the tallest human found in Equestria beat by like... I dunno. A lot! And your body. It’s like someone took a knife and carved you those muscles. Hardly any fat. It’s… well, uh…”

“Appealing?”

“Pfft, keep dreaming, chump. It might be to some other ponies out there, but I’m not as primitive as them.” She rubs her ears backwards as she presents her position. "I'd say it's more along the lines of 'gross' and 'weird.'"

“If that's what'll let you sleep at night," he adds, finding amusement at garnering some agitation from her. "So why aren’t you tryin’ to sell me now?"

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because you can TALK. You'd probably rat me out or something. A pony in my line of work has plenty of enemies and zero friends.”

“Rat you out? Nah. Reckon the 'talkin' human' part would add to the value of the sale though.”

“It would probably add to the Royal Guard and the Horseshoes coming down here along with every powerful sorcerer to find out what the deal with the talking human is,” she remarks seriously. "Crazy magic stuff has been happening lately, so I think your existence would cause some negative waves. Let's keep it on down-low for now, alright?"

It is obvious to Dahlia that Crimson does not know what she is referring to, but he seems to get the general idea and nods slowly. “Mm," Crimson hums in thought. "What do humans do in this world? You said sellin’, so I reckon they’re property. Figure they’re dumb as a bag of hammers. What purpose they serve?”

“Depends on who you ask. Farmers like using them a whole lot. They’re like omni-tools. They can help measure, they can fetch stuff, hold stuff, and some super well-trained ones can even use machinery at a basic level. Pretty cool when you watch them go at it,” she says with an amused smile. “Then, ponies with too many bits love to buy them and play dress-up. There’s human beauty competitions that are held pretty frequently in major cities. Kind of a waste of bits since humans can get pretty expensive, but everypony's got a kink, I guess.”

“… This Equestria world is basically my world... but with horses and humans… flipped?”

“Well you should know. You’ve been there and I haven't.”

Crimson looks towards the window, seeing the morning sun rising. While he has more burning thoughts edging on the tip of his tongue, he swallows them back. “We should get movin’. Food was good by the way. Thanks,” he says as he stands up from the stool.

“I know it was good, I made it. I’m amazing.” Dahlia buffs her chest proudly as she takes the plates with her wings, walking them to the sink and giving them a quick rinse. She proceeds over to her saddlebags and gets them on in one swift toss with her mouth. She directs her gaze over to Crimson, who is still watching the beauty of the morning from the window. “Plan time,” Dahlia speaks, attracting his attention once again. “So this is gonna be a weird situation. You’re gonna have to go undercover with me if you want to attract the least amount of attention as possible. Things will go much more smoothly if nothing seems out of the ordinary.”

Crimson raises an eyebrow, allowing her to elaborate.

Dahlia squints in thought and continues. “The only thing I can think of that would work is you pretending to be my pet. That way I can—”

“’Scuse me?”

“Mrr, yeah, yeah. I’m not a big fan of the idea either, but that's all I've got. You give me some suggestions then.” She gawks at him in annoyance.

Crimson ponders silently. His blank look remains plastered on his face. The thought of being perceived as property is too insulting to let rest. "You sure it's gonna be a scandal if others know I can talk?"

"Trust me, it will be. Let's not risk that, for both of our sakes."

"Unless it'll end in both of our deaths, I'd say give it a try."

"Crimson, no." She glowers at him. "We're not doing that. Who knows Equestria better, you or me? I wasn't joking when I said we'd get every major power jumping down our throats if anypony found out you can talk. I don't care how tough you think you are, you are NOT taking down the Consortium OR the Horseshoes by yourself."

He purses his lips and shifts his hazel eyes away distastefully.

“Exactly. Now be quiet and let me explain. You’re going undercover as my pet. When ponies believe you’re my property, I can get them to piss off if they’re getting too close to you. I… don’t exactly have your proof or anything, so I’ll probably have to think of an excuse for that if we get stopped. Hopefully the sheriff’s still asleep or something.”

“Assumin' this stupid plan of yers works, what do I do to NOT attract any attention? What constitutes as normal fer the humans here? Should I be makin’ some sorta noise or somethin’? Like a monkey?”

“Nope, none of that. From what I know, humans don’t make any noises unless they’re angry at something, then they growl. But… stop with the face thing.” Her muzzle scrunches as she points at his front.

Crimson replies with the furrowing of his brows, illustrating his confusion.

“Your face. Facial expressions? You know, these things?” Dahlia proceeds to make a silly happy face, a frowny face, and a pouty face.

The man finds humor in her expressions, smiling slightly at how adorable they came off.

“You're doing it again. Smiling. Humans don’t make faces, unless they’re pissed off. So don’t make any faces. At all."

"Why's anger the only face they make? That don't seem right."

"You're asking the wrong pony, Crim, but that's how it is. So wipe that smile off your face," Dahlia says as she pseudo-combs her mane.

Crimson slowly opens his mouth for a wide, fake smile that shows his front teeth.

“... Seriously?” Dahlia grumbles, taking a step back in angst.

Crimson shifts his eyes away and flattens his expression, finding her sense of humor lacking.

“Get your game-face on. Literally. We’re heading out.” Dahlia trots over to the couch and picks up the forgotten collar that was knocked onto the floor. She brings it back, using her wings to fly up and place the collar around his neck. Crimson notices that she hovers a good distance away to place the collar, rather than couple up to him like she did the first time. “Stay close and don’t say a word. Or make any faces. Or do anything at all unless I tell you to,” she demands as she takes the leash hoop into her hoof.

“Whatever you say, master,” he replies irately.

“Master? Hah. I can get used to that.”

“It's in yer best interest that you don't.”

Dahlia sticks her tongue out at him, walking with Crimson behind her out of the lodge and into the forest. She tugs at him lightly and walks around the lodge, heading to a rather specific patch of shrubs behind the property.

The collar tugging creates a mix of humiliation and discomfort in Crimson, but he does well to ignore it. For now. He is certain it will become worse when sapient beings can acknowledge the position he is in, even if they do not know his truth.

They enter the patch, heading past it, revealing a rather discreet path cut into the forest. The man assumes it is Dahlia’s own little route.

Crimson uses this time to focus on his surroundings. Now that he is taking it all in with a clear mind, the colors, the trees, the… everything. It all challenges what he understood as reality. Trees are shaped very oddly, the clouds in the sky look nothing like they did back at Earth. The sun appears larger. The green of this forest seems too lively. The dirt is soft and rich with no thorns at all. Walking barefoot on this forest ground is very pleasant.

As he looks up at the barely-visible sky, past the branches and leaves, he feels very unsettled. What dances at the front of his mind is the idea of wanting to return home. He knows for a fact he wants to, but at the same time, he feels like there is something missing. He remembers a voice, but cannot recall what it had said.

As they continue along the path, Dahlia seems uninterested in everything around and remains quiet. Crimson notices this in between sly glances her way. He acknowledges that she is a denizen of this land, so everything is usual and boring for her.

More minutes of walking pass by, and the forest appears to be receding. Indeed, the forest comes to an end when the lovely soil turns into coarse, dry, and warm dirt. Out in the distance, Crimson spots a town of some sort with a train station not far from it. It reminds him of… “… Dodge?”

“Yup. Dodge Junction. Home of the best cider you’ll ever dr—” Dahlia’s eyes grow wide and she stops. “… How did you know that was Dodge?”

“It reminds me of Dodge, the town back on Earth. Looks almost… exactly like it. It was close to where my stead was.” His eyes are squinting, trying to get a better view of it from where he stands. "You said cider?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Mm, just... used to visit the saloon and drink there all the time with... some assholes."

“... That's freaky. Makes me wonder how close our worlds are to each other.”

"... Yeah."

"Anyway, no more talking. Alright, Crim?"

Crimson nods. The two make way to the town, crossing over old, weathered railroad tracks that span east and west in order to reach the town's threshold.

Upon entering Dodge, Crimson sees a community full of colorful equines roaming about the early morning. He stares at the scenes happening before him. Technicolor ponies drawing carts full of produce, walking in and out of wooden buildings, some even levitating items with some sort of ethereal energy that glows from the bone-spike protruding from their forehea--

“Nrh,” Crimson grunts.

Dahlia looks at him with an annoyed expression, tugging the collar after he became distracted. Crimson returns a spiteful gaze, but quickly reassumes his façade.

Dahlia continues walking with her pet human. Crimson once again studies the structural layout of the town, ensuring not to become distracted again. He directs his sight to the far end, finding the sheriffs office at the top of the T. The semblance of this place to what he knows is uncanny. His eyes rest on this building.

“-- Mrh!” he grunts as he is jerked by Dahlia forcefully pulling the collar again. He gives her a look of angst, not understanding what he did wrong this time. Building resentment gives him half a mind to yank the leash his way instead...

... and he does. He discreetly slows his pace and jerks his head back, causing Dahlia to nearly trip. She regains her balance before looking back at him with a furious glower. He gives her a look back of innocence, as if he does not know why she is so angry. The two continue walking, trying to play it off.

Dahlia slows down to walks beside him rather than in front of him. She looks around prudently before whisper-yelling to him, “Stop fucking around!"

Crimson blinks back at her passively, still feinting ignorance. He dismisses her and reassumes looking about. Immediately of note are big, curious, colorful pony eyes, all staring at him, mares and stallions alike. Half the town has halted their routine to just stare at him, perhaps pensive due to Dahlia staggering just now. He decides to stop throwing his eyes everywhere and remains looking forward, keeping his face blank and stupid.

Dahlia leads herself and the unruly man to a store on the right side of town, a store which has a sign that displays a silhouette of a pony wearing boots and a hat.

Upon entering the front door, a bell jingles out their entrance. A mare sits behind a counter at the far end of this establishment.

Crimson looks around, wafting the smell of cloth and shoe polish. A fair amount of wooden shelves and displays show off a number of rustic-style clothes. All of it looks small and oddly designed, and he comes to realize that these are pony clothes.

“Morning to you, missy! How can I--? … Oh? Ooh~” The light brown and orange mare tending the store is immediately drawn to the man. “Miss Wisp! When did YOU buy a human? I remember you saying that you weren’t interested in that sort of thing!”

“Hey, Winty," Dahlia greets, putting up a plastic smile. "Well, I had a… well just look at him! I couldn’t have possibly have passed this one up!” Dahlia beams as she points her left wing at Crimson.

“Oh, I agree completely! What. A. Stud! He’s nothing I’ve ever seen before! What breed is he?” Winty questions as she moves herself around the counter to approach Crimson.

“Eeh... not sure. It wasn’t ever told to me. But he sure does look great, right?"

“Definitely!” Winty looks up to Crimson’s eyes. Her orange orbs attempt to reach into his soul.

He gazes back into her large, entrancing irises. He feels mesmerized looking at them from such a close distance, the same feeling begotten when staring at Dahlia's pools of magenta. The eyes of these ponies shimmer beautifully, reflecting the world almost perfectly.

He sees himself in them. He sees how utterly belittling this entire situation looks, right through the eyes of this equine.

“Mmm, you don’t suppose your lovely human here is good for breeding is he?~ I would just love to—"

“Castrated,” Dahlia spouts. “Sorry, Winty.”

“Aww, shoot. That's a real bummer. But that explains why he’s such a good boooy~ You wouldn't mind if I gave him a quick lil' pet, would you?”

Dahlia looks up to the man, seeing him stare forward into oblivion. She takes it upon her own volition to look back down to Winty and say, "Sure, but just a quick one."

"Ohoo!~ Yes, ma'am!" The mare leaps up onto her hindlegs, balancing herself on them. With Dahlia giving a quick tug of the collar, Crimson leans down enough for her to run her hoof through his messy red hair.

He resists the urge to advocate his displeasure, though luckily she keeps to her word and only pets him briefly. He stands back up to his full height, searching for his pride in the void.

"Oh! Just so precious, he is!" Winty admits with a squeal of joy, falling back down onto her four legs.

Crimson finds fortune in the midst of this complete embarrassment, as Winty does not suspect a thing. What he comes to digest, however, is the sheer smallness of these creatures. Nothing compared to the larger, majestic beasts that are the horses back home. Even their Earth equivalent, a regular pony, would easily triumph over them in terms of size.

After this, he feels he will never be able to look at them the same way ever again.

“Yeah, so," Dahlia continues, "I was just stopping by to get some clothes for him. Don’t suppose you got any human clothes in stock?” She slyly glances at Crimson’s expression again. He is still managing to hold that bored, tired face. She feels a sense of relief, giving silent admiration to his fortitude.

“Ah, of course!” Winty turns around and trots with haste towards the back of the counter. She rummages under it, out of sight.

Dahlia gives her human a confident glance, who in turn returns nothing but a bored gaze.

The store mare takes out a box and places it onto the counter. “Here we are! I’m, ah… sorry, that we don’t have anything very gracious to fit your lovely human with, but it’s something!” She chuckles.

“No problem. Thanks, Winty,” Dahlia says as she approaches the box, looking inside of it.

Drab cloth shirts, shoddily hemmed pants, flip flops. The man looks at the contents of the box with pure delight. His critically squinting eyes simply shout with glee.

“I think I’ll take this one. This, and this one.” Dahlia takes out the largest shirt, some hard-wearing fabric shorts that have many pockets, and the only pair of footwear.

“Sure thing, miss Wisp! That’ll be…” The mare looks over at the clothes, then to Crimson. Dahlia reaches into her saddlebag and takes out her coin purse, waiting for a price to be called. “… Mm, you know what? Help yourself! I couldn’t charge that adorable human of yours a single bit for these drabs~” The mare flutters her enticed eyes at him.

“Uh…" Dahlia looks between Crimson and the love-struck mare. "Thanks? ... You sure I can just take this stuff?”

“Well, now that mention it... I'll be glad to let you have 'em, if... I could give that handsome stud a… peck on the cheek?” She smiles wryly, growing pink at the cheeks.

The idea of free-ninety-nine brightens Dahlia instantly. “That's it? Really? Hah, go right ahead! Free clothes!” Dahlia smiles, looking at Crimson. His brows twitch slightly, actively preventing themselves from furrowing.

Winty trots around the counter again, moving to the human with anticipation. She jumps up again, this time resting her forelegs on his abdomen. She gazes into his eyes for a silent moment. The blush on her face is hard to ignore, somehow presenting itself primly over her coat.

Crimson's left eye twitches before he leans down again, letting Winty reach her muzzle in. She presses her lips against his cheek. Her soft, fuzzy nose tickles his skin. For both parties, the exchange is too surreal to immediately mentally register.

Winty retracts and giggles, “Oohohoho! What an experience!” She falls back to her four legs while Crimson stands straight again. “You know last year, my cousin wanted to kiss a human. Docile and everything! Not sure what went wrong, but it didn’t turn out so well!” She simpers, trying to appear as lighthearted as possible.

“Really? What happened?” Dahlia looks at her curiously as she takes the clothes that now belong to her.

“The, ah… the human… bit her a little. On the cheek. Really bad scars now." Her ears flop to her head.

“Damn. Sorry to hear, Winty. That really sucks,” Dahlia utters as empathetically as she can while beginning to dress Crimson into his new clothes.

“No, its fine. She’s put it past her now. I think. I hope. Anyway, you keep that lovely human of yours safe, and bring him back when you're in town! He’s a charmer!” Winty exclaims, returning to her post behind the counter.

“Yeah, sure will,” she acknowledges, watching Crimson pull his shirt down to finalize his new outfit. "Thanks, Winty."

“Anytime!” The mare snickers.

The two step out of the clothing store and walk under the morning sun.

After being fitted into his new attire, Crimson feels even more aggravated now than ever. The shirt fits too small at the shoulders and arms, but fits very baggy at the waist. The length of the shirt is also lacking for his height. The shorts fit rather well, but are kind of uncomfortable from how terribly stitched they are. And the flip flops, after spending his entire life wearing boots, are definitely something to get used to.

“Good job, Crim. That went off without a hitch. Just need to pick up some food stuffs, and we’ll be out of here soon. How’re you holding up?” Dahlia looks at the man. He does nothing but walk along side her, keeping his face stagnant. Dahlia stifles a chuckle and faces forward, grinning still.

The two make their path to one of the larger buildings in this town - a building which has an eggplant and a banana painted onto the sign that hangs out front.

Crimson keeps his posture as discrete as possible, yet still attracts the eyes of surrounding ponies. He finds that the concept 'staring is rude' eludes these colorful equines.

They enter the food-housing establishment. The smell of herbs and greens tickle Crimson’s nose. Fresh produce, just as he had back at home. Dahlia notices the towering human's brows are furrowed in the same manner that he does when thinking too hard. She frowns at him, gently tugging the collar twice. The man blinks rapidly, restoring the blank expression.

Dahlia focuses now on the inside of the store. The ponies that are buying food in this establishment are already gawking at Crimson.

“Ey, lady," says a rather fat stallion sitting at the cash register near the front entrance. "No humuns allowed in the sto’!”

“Oh, uh... right, yeah, my bad.” Dahlia rubs the back of her head, humbling herself to the owner. Before she pisses off the only pony with food to sell within several miles, Dahlia walks with Crimson outside, finding a wooden pillar to tie the leash to. “Sorry, Crim. Just wait for me here, mmkay?” she murmurs, tying the leash firmly. She gives him one final glance before entering the store and disappearing from sight.

Crimson stands there, blank-face and slouched over. This posture is starting to bother his back.

While still annoyed, he is grateful that Dahlia's plan is, at the very least, functioning as intended. Other than stares, Crimson is mostly left to his own device.

His eyes lazily shift around, trying to find something interesting to pass the time, though he finds himself mostly musing about what he could have done to wind up being put in this position. He thought he did the world a service ending the tyranny of the Black Spurs back at Earth, but...

"... Now I'm here... far away from the one girl I care about. ... Please don't be mad at me, Vi... I don't know what I did to deserve this."

Before he falls into the endless pit of his own emotions, he focuses on the passerbys. There they are, he supposes. Ponies. Roaming around, doing… pony things. Some pulling wooden carriages with produce, others carrying bags around. One other pony is flopping out of, what he assumes is, the saloon. Pretty early in the morning to be drunk already. The stumbling idiot attracts his attention for a few seconds. He watches him stagger around, until he finally eats the dirt and falls asleep at the front of the saloon. He has half a mind to join him in his inelegance.

“Mama, look! Human, human!” Crimson darts his eyes to the source of the young squeaky voice. A tiny white-ish grey filly with huge emerald eyes is flapping her tiny wings as she points at him. There is a pegasus mare and an earth stallion just behind her. The mare walking with the filly by the hoof looks at her daughter with confusion and concern. “Can I pet the human, mama? Please? Please?”

“No, Furi. They can be dangerous,” the mare states in disgust. "Remember what happened to Misty's friend?"

“Pleeeeaaaaaaase!” The filly pleads to her mom, her eyes shimmering as if they were about to cry.

“C’mon, sweetheart," says the husband. "Look at him. He looks like a nice guy. M’sure the owner won’t mind some attention if they just left him right there."

“Misty's. Friend. Harker," the wife snaps critically.

"Misty also said that Pom was botherin' that human by throwin' sticks at it to get it to play fetch. Humans don't play fetch. Furi'll be fine, won't ya', sweetie?" he asks, smiling down at his daughter.

The mare scowls at him. "… If something happens to our little Furi, Harker, this will be the LAST straw.”

“Sure, sure. Misty and her friend are already over what happened. You should get over it too. C’mon, Furi, let’s go pet the human.”

“Yaay! Papa!” The filly flaps her wings quickly as she hops alongside her father. The two approach Crimson cautiously. The dad puts on a stern face for the daughter, while the mom lags behind, her faced worried with a big, teethy frown.

“Hey there, big guy. You look like a nice fella. Don’t bite us, y’hear? We’re friends. Friendly ponies,” the father says soothingly. Crimson stares at him blankly, apparently doing well in deceiving this family of equines. Maybe just for amusement's sake he will snap at them, but the harder he contemplates it, it may not be worth a brief three seconds of entertainment.

The dad lets out a tense sigh as he picks up his daughter with one hoof. She is so small, she practically fits on it perfectly. Crimson resists the urge to vocalize her adorableness. He is also very glad he got some clothes on before this.

The dad moves his arm, leaning his daughter in closer and closer. He almost retracts his daughter from pure anxiousness, but once she is close enough, the little filly, with a huge, happy smile, reaches over and pats Crimson’s head.

“Aww! Who's a big, big strong human?” the filly hums, running her tiny hoof back and forward, scraggling his hair more than it already is. The dad lets out a sigh of relief.

Crimson sniffs discretely. The little filly smells something like... maple syrup? Like a conditioner or something upon her coat wafts that pleasant, easy scent. Not too sweet but not too faint. Weird choice for a smell, he thinks.

“Okaay! Okaay! That’s enough! Get her away, Harker! Please!?” the wife pleads in a panic.

“Sheesh, learn to live a little, Shumi.” Harker rolls his eyes, retracting his daughter away. He sets her down next to him, but the little filly suddenly runs over and hugs Crimson’s right shin. “Wowowoh, that’s enough, Furi. Don’t wanna push his buttons now.” He pulls his daughter off and away, holding her to his chest. He then stares at Crimson, looking up into his eyes. "Hey. You’re a stellar guy. Give my regards to your owner.”

He chuckles with his daughter, walking past Crimson, off and away with his family. The daughter is heard continuing her chortling and cheering as they leave from sight.

Crimson silently glares at nothing as the family walks away. That could have been worse, he figures. As much as he hates to admit it, it was perhaps even slightly pleasant. As horrid as this day has gone so far, this was not as offensive as earlier. Having a child fawn over oneself is much better than a fully grown adult doing it. At least, that is what he tells himself.

The doors to the store suddenly bust open and Dahlia looks towards the man with wide eyes, while he himself throws her an bitter squint. A squint she does not seem to notice. “Good, you’re still here. Alright, time to head home. Hold these for me.” She trots to Crimson, giving him four brown bags that contain all sorts of produce. Crimson takes them into his arms. She then moves and unties the leash from the wooden pole, taking it into her hoof.

They commence the trek back to the forest, and as they leave the junction, the man notices that he is still getting some looks, though not the same way as before. After that little interaction, they appear to look at him in a… less critical fashion. Not by a large margin, but still, less so.

The two leave the town's threshold and hop over the train tacks. Together, they recede into the forest, making their way back to the lodge.

Dahlia ends up dropping his leash once they enter the dense greenery. Crimson has not removed his glare from the back of her little head.

She suspects nothing. She continues walking with a passive, cheeky simper. As soon as shrubbery shades them and the forest encompasses their surroundings, Crimson slows down and sets down the groceries quietly and very carefully.

"Hey, Dahlia..."

"Hm?" She stops and turns to him.

"Mrh!" "Wah!?"

Dahlia finds herself picked up by the man, a sudden action that holds her in the air in front of him. He fits his hands under her armpits, holding her out like one would a house cat.

"WaHa! Crimson! What are you doing!?" She flaps her wings, unable to escape his firm grasp.

"That's what I'm askin'! The hell's the matter with you? You too broke to pay for my clothes? You should have plenny of money after what you've done!"

Once she realizes that he's angry, Dahlia holds her hooves in front of her face, quivering frightfully. "Don't hurt me!"

The man scowls at her and shakes his head slowly, his eyes slits of animosity. He takes in a deep breath through his nostrils. "I ain't gonna fuckin' hurt ya'. But you listen, and you listen close. I ain't yer pet. So don't treat me like it. I let you get away with it this time. Next time someone wants to put a feel up on me, you tell 'em to piss off. Like you said you would. All we're doin' is puttin' up a show... 'n that's it. You get it?"

"Yeah! I get it! Now put me down, this isn't funny!"

"Do you, though?"

"I get it!"

"... Good." The man sets her back down and steps back. The mare does as well, taking a leap backwards to get some distance between him.

"You're a fucking asshole!" she growls.

"You ain't seen nothin'."

"That's the last time I turn my back on you!"

"Shiver at ghosts, then. You ain't got nothin' to worry about as long as you keep in mind what I just told you."

"But you didn't need to jump me, jerk! You could have just told me!"

"See, I could've... but reckon after today, you'll be damn sure to remember."

She squints at him, feeling a terrible sourness in her mouth. "Screw you, dude."

"You certainly weren't this indignant when you let some stranger put their lips on me." Though Dahlia glares at him spitefully, she acknowledges his words. "Now settle yerself down. We got shit to do."

Dahlia grits her teeth. "Yeah, and I can't wait until it's over."

Crimson does not offer a retort. He turns and picks the groceries back up, holding them to his chest. He turns to her again and tilts his head, signaling her to proceed.

The mare hesitantly starts walking, reluctant to give him her back. He starts following behind her like usual, but the air is thicker and cumbersome between them.

"What’s the plan now?” Crimson asks sternly.

She thinks not to reply just to malice him, but she brings herself to respond. She huffs in agitation. “We’ll get this stuff put away and I’ll do a quick run of logistics. After that, I'm gonna take on that temple you kept me from. We need money, and that's where I'm getting it from.”

“Mm. I'll come with.”

“Oh yeah? You sure you won't just push me into a fucking trap? Not only do I perform better alone, I don't wanna get blindsided by--”

"Quit yer bellyachin'. Whether you like it or not, we're a team in this mess. Less you speak yer peace and walk away. You're free to do it at any moment."

"Yeah? Well you're just as free as I am, you ass."

"I ain't walkin' away, and we ain't gotta like each other to work together. Let's get focused on that temple of yers."

"Ch," she clicks her breath, glaring forward angrily. "Whatever."

They trek on together towards the cabin, setting sights to the enigmatic temple yonder the Everfree.

Field Day

~ The Everfree Forest, Dahlia's Cabin ~<
January 28th, Thursday, 16:11

‎

“That should be everything. It’ll last us until the next bag of bits comes rolling around,” Dahlia says, putting the last of the produce inside of the self-made preserving bin in her kitchen.

"Next bag of bits? Thought you said my clothes sold for good money," Crimson comments, scanning his eyes across the brown bags that litter the kitchen counter. He finishes getting the collar off from around his neck and lets it drop to the floor. "This's gotta be less than a week's worth of food."

"Which is plenty. Don't worry about the details, I'm good at making money."

"Who'd you even sell my clothes to?"

"Somepony who's far gone."

Crimson sighs, composing himself to ease his aggravation. “... Well... overlookin' how emasculatin' it was, the trip could'a gone worse."

"Yeah, except the part where you fucking attacked me."

"You had it comin', lettin' that stranger kiss me like that. You're lucky I didn't just... bite her face off." Dahlia looks at him critically. He puts up a grin which tells her that he at least acknowledges what he said was very tasteless. "Regardless of that. I'll give you credit, your plan worked out."

"Of course it did. My plans are full-proof when the human stuck to my side isn't going into a frenzy."

"You'll live it down 'ventually, Wisp." Her stern look turns into a death glare. "What? That Winty type was able to call you Wisp."

"Yeah. But not you. Don't call me that."

"So I can call you by your real name but no one else can?"

"Don't ask. If you keep prying, I'll just lie."

"Hm. Least you're honest about yer dishonesty. Speakin' of that, yer mighty good at lyin'."

"It's one of my specialties."

"Ain't sure that's somethin' to be proud of."

"Oh, shut it. Worry about what we've got ahead instead of stuff that doesn't matter. If you're insisting on coming with me to that temple, don't get in the way, or go out of your way to be annoying... like pulling back on the collar.”

“Serves you right for yankin' me around.”

"Because you kept getting distracted. Ugh, you really are trying to give me the authentic human experience."

"Judgin' by all the looks I was gettin', my kind must be mighty troublesome."

“Yeah, they can get pretty bad."

"Makin' it sound like they're downright evil."

"Eeeh, no. Wild humans aren't, like, evil. Like you said, they're just ‘troublesome.' Super territorial. They don’t go out looking for fights or anything. They live out on their own, usually in caves or whatever they can find. It's really rare to find some, though. They keep to themselves, hunt and gather, have sex, sleep, die.”

“Circle of life."

“Yup.” She trots over to her saddlebags, picking them up off the single-cushion couch and taking them to the kitchen.

“If humans are so territorial and violent, why do y’all keep them as pets?”

“We don’t go trapping WILD humans, dude. That would be really stupid. Ponies just steal baby humans or breed for some in confinement and raise them from birth. That’s pretty much the only way their wild side gets tamed. Imprint them and acclimate them from birth. Wild humans are too unpredictable to keep as pets, even with all of the best training in Equestria,” she explains as she places various items in her saddlebags.

“Sounds like a pain in the ass for somethin’ you don’t exactly need."

“Well, when you’re a snobby elitist with all the bits you could possibly want, you get bored. Bored ponies with lots of money do dumb things. Besides, humans are becoming more accessible since their breeding market has taken off. You can buy a domesticated one for nearly a fifth of what they costed a few years back.”

Crimson lets the information sink in, staring at nothing in particular.

“Alright. Time to head out for the big money.” Dahlia flips her saddlebags over her back before moving some of her mane out of her face.

“How long is it gonna take to get there?”

“The temple's two miles east. We’ll be there in under an hour.”

"Got it."

The duo make way for the door and head out, walking down from the porch and commencing the trek East, opposite from Dodge. They cross a stone pathway that spans over the river in front of Dahlia’s lodge, then they make way to the forest.

It appears to Crimson that Dahlia has already cut a narrow path this way as well. Recently cut branches and toppled grass give all the clues he needs.

‎

~~~<

‎

The duo have walked in silence for the most of the duration. The chime of creatures, rustling leaves, and each others’ dirt-muffled steps breath life into the ecosystem. Crimson admires the scenery, actively comparing it to the dry desert lands he called home on Earth.

After a thought strikes him, he glances down at Dahlia with an inquiry. "Question."

"Mm?"

“Did you really drag me two miles all the way back to yer lodge?”

“No, you just magically appeared at my doorstep. Yes, I dragged you all the way back. It was kind of annoying, you weigh like a billion tons.”

“Stronger than you look." Dahlia rolls her eyes, looking away to try to hide her amusement from him. "Must have been rough on your back."

"On my everything."

"If only I could'a helped." Dahlia looks to him with genuine confusion. Once she spots the purposefully stupid smile on his face, she grimaces at him.

She faces forward with pouting lips. "Shut up, Crim."

"... Yeah." He takes after her, fixing his attention to the front. After another minute of quiet trekking, another question festers before making it out of his mouth. "... You got any family, Deedee?"

The little mare does not respond immediately, letting the question hang for a moment. "... Nope."

"Mm. No friends either, if I'm rememberin' what you said correctly."

"Yup."

"... You're all alone then?"

"What's with the questions all of a sudden?" she asks as she cranes her neck to display her displeased front.

"... Didn't mean anythin' by it. Just curious."

She stares at him for a few more seconds before facing forward again, saying nothing further. Crimson follows suit and remains quiet.

‎

~~~<

‎

After walking for another while, Crimson halts at the sound of Dahlia's voice, snapping out of his daydreaming.

“Stop. ... Look,” she whispers as she leans over a bush nearly her height.

Crimson leans in also, looming above her. He finds that they arrived to the jut of earth that houses the temple's golden-encrusted door. They spot something resting just outside of the entrance to the temple.

“Dead griffon," she claims. "Guess they tried to get their grubby claws on whatever it is inside."

"And goodnight, Irene."

"Yup."

“Think that ‘grif-fun’ had friends?” he questions as he stares at the motionless mass ahead. "Couldn't have been just one."

“Probably did, but those 'friends' are definitely gone now. Knowing them, they just hightailed it after they couldn’t figure out the door mechanism.” She drops her saddlebags behind a shady shrub and enters the faded path where Crimson had passed out before. She walks cautiously towards the heavy, golden-encrusted metal door, and Crimson follows close behind her. She stops just before it, standing next to the dead body. With a scrunched muzzle, she glances at it and away from it. “That thing’s starting to stink. Could you dump it somewhere else, Crim?”

Crimson turns his face and looks at the dead creature, scanning it and taking in its existence.

He crouches down and picks up the griffon with both arms. As he holds it, he examines each little feather on its head. It is definitely still a fresh body and it does not smell yet. He thinks Dahlia was probably just being tactless. There might even be a small twinkle of life possibly lingering in this griffon's half-lidded eyes.

He pays special notice to the griffon's eyes. Oddly, they are lashed very prominently, and they are much larger than their small beak. He then notes the little wound the dart left in the griffon's neck. He supposes it was yanked out in an attempt to save themselves.

He looks down at its hindlegs, how fur and hide protects its lower half, in contrast to feathers being plumed all over its head and neck.

He turns around with it in his arms, walking out a distance from the temple door. He comes to a halt in front of a patch of flora off the side of the path, staring at the griffon for a little longer.

He crouches down and sets the griffon down into a patch of short bushes that now act as its funeral bed. He then looks down at his left hand, where three feathers have gotten stuck to it, navy blue and white in coloration. They're kind of beautiful in their own right despite being clipped and ruined. He uses his right hand to pluck them off one by one, letting them fall slowly to the forest ground.

He stands back up and returns to Dahlia.

“Hah, this door is cake,” she says with a grin.

“That wasn’t the case for at least two of us,” Crimson muses.

“Then again, both of you aren’t as smart as I am, so yeah, this super simple door was bound to turn you around.” Dahlia steps back a few paces and spreads her wings. “Get clear of the door, and I mean very clear. I'm gonna trigger it."

Crimson takes some steps back, getting a fair bit of distance from himself to the door. Once he does, Dahlia bolts like a bat out of hell, kicking the door handle and backing away just as fast as she approached it.

BHP-PANG! Click.

The mechanism behind the door sounds off. In the blink of an eye, a dart hits a tree to the right of Dahlia, just barely missing her. With a cocky smile, the pegasus lands promptly and walks over to the dart, gripping it with her mouth carefully and yanking it out of the tree. Once freed, she walks to the door and takes the dart into her right wing. Crimson sees her wing act as a set of phalanges, and although very uncanny, he admires the utility it serves.

Dahlia aims the dart into a small, easily missable hole that’s located just above the handle. She enters the dart into the hole and it fits perfectly inside. The liquid inside the dart injects itself into a small hole in the lock, and the door clicks. “Ta-dah! One super easy temple door opened.” She pockets the dart in her shirt, smiling proudly.

“Huh. How’d you figure that out?"

“A little thing called intuition.”

Crimson does not seem very satisfied with this answer, but takes it anyway. Dahlia opens the door and swings it wide. She peers inside, with Crimson directly behind her peeking inside as well. After Dahlia signals that it is safe, the two enter the temple. Crimson leans out and closes the door behind them, but not all the way, leaving but an inch before the door shuts.

They are met with a long, wide hallway. Sandstone arches are evenly spaced out through the length of the hall, and engravings on the walls and arches span symmetrically across the entirety. Crimson takes it all in, never before exposed to this style of architecture. The halls are lit with sky vents, letting in small rays of sunlight in evenly spaced patterns.

“Stay close and stay focused," Dahlia says. "If you die, I'm giving you your goodbyes right now."

Crimson squints at her, finding little amusement in her comment. She does not acknowledge his stare. She keeps moving forward. The man sourly returns to looking at the wall etchings and symbols, studying them and trying to decipher them with little luck.

Nearing the end of this long hall, they are met with a spacious room, perfectly square in shape. The far end of the room holds three doors with engravings etched onto them, but nothing else other than that, giving the essence of being inside a huge sandy cube.

“The classic ‘pick-a-door,’” Dahlia utters boredly. “Strange. These rooms usually have something around that gives clues. There’s nothing in here. No engravings or little doodles on the walls, just those doors right there. Mn, give me a moment to crack this,” she says, walking to the middle door first.

Crimson stays back, examining from afar. He crosses his arms and looks at the three doors before him, scrutinizing each one. The only things in this room that give any sort of clue are the doors, but they do not serve much in the realm of answers. The rest of this room is barren clay and sandstone wall - he finds no help there.

Dahlia touches the doors, gently running her hoof along the engravings. Crimson steps back, looking out into the hallway they came through. Then, coming back into the room again, he furrows his brows in thought. After about a minute of allowing Dahlia to try to decipher the puzzle in silence, he speaks up his assumption. “I’m thinkin’ it’s the middle door."

“The middle door?" Dahlia repeats incredulously. "Taking the middle path is what ponies who die do."

“Well look at the other two. Look at them symbols on the doors." Dahlia's unpersuaded front looks at the left and right doors at his request, hardly analyzing them as he wanted her to. Crimson then points to the door in the center. “Then look at the middle door. That middle door’s the only one with them symbols in a uniform pattern. Recall them arches and scribbles in the hall we just came through?”

Eureka strikes the tan pegasus as the words coming from his mouth click suddenly. “They… were all perfectly symmetrical. You’re a genius, Crim!” Dahlia’s eyes widen and she gives the man a large, probably unintentional smile.

“Yeah, I’m pretty amazing."

Like a balloon suddenly popping, Dahlia's demeanor shifts instantly. She rolls her eyes, flicking her tail dismissively as she turns and walks towards the middle door. “Yeah, yeah, beginner’s luck.”

“I’d rather use the term, ‘intuition."

“I'd rather use the term, 'annoying',” Dahlia says as she takes the middle door, pushing it open and walking in. Just as they had hoped, it lacks traps and surprises. This middle door leads to another hall with the same structure and composition as the previous one. They walk for a few meters when they notice that the hall is now coming to a decline, down, deeper into the temple.

“You do this kinda stuff for a livin’?” Crimson asks as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Yup. Been doing it for years now.”

“Not the safest way to make money, y’know.”

“Psh, 'not safe.' Not only are these temples foal-walks, the payout beats out what any other lame job could ever get you."

"Suppose."

"Hmh," Dahlia huffs condescendingly. "Besides. Something tells me you're one to talk. You're worse than I am."

"That's a strong assumption you're makin'."

"I've seen enough killers in my life. Your eyes are just the same." Crimson does not reply. "Hah. So I am right."

"You're talkin' as if you haven't had to."

"I don't kill in my line of work, and I don't like to. I'm an escape artist, I make sure confrontation is few and far between... unlike you."

"Don't act like you know me. I wasn't puttin' myself in danger with the intention to make money. I only ever used my gun to defend myself from the aforementioned assholes I used to drink with."

"A gun? Pft. Now I know I should keep my guard up around you."

"Do what you feel is best. ... Though, this implies you know what a gun is. There a place I can get one?"

"No, they've been outlawed because they're dangerous. They're inconsistent and caused nothing but trouble."

"Inconsistent? Maybe because y'all don't know how to make or handle a firearm."

"No, stupid. Equestria's guns were second to none, especially in the Great War. I'm saying certain ponies had trouble using guns as a widespread solution for defense. Earth ponies have to wear battle-saddles to use guns, and a lot of the time, it's less efficient than a unicorn's magic. Pegasus are completely out of the picture since the saddle restricts our wing movement, and most of us aren't strong enough to actually carry the saddle around. I personally don't give a shit, but the debating Canterlot officials did. And they said 'guns have been outlawed,' so they're no longer produced. Had you been here thirty years ago, they were everywhere. Took nearly a decade for black markets that had 'em to get squashed out, and even then, you can probably scower Equestria for a pea-shooter somewhere. Nothing like they used to have though."

“What a shame. Would like my gun back. Or any gun, really."

"You'll manage."

Crimson finds himself backed into another wall with her in terms of conversation. Whether it is him she is trying to shut down or the conversation topic, he tries not letting it bother him. He glances at her once, then forward, deeper into the long, dry hall. He hopes this is not how she is going to be, especially if they are destined to work together for some amount of time. He knows jumping on her earlier put them both on ice, but he will not step down from his ground. He ponders something else to bring up, away from the current topic. "... Well, those puzzles are pretty fun, I’ll give ya’ that. These temples have little games to play."

“Puzzles are the easiest part. The hard parts come from the--” Dahlia interrupts herself as she comes to a halt. Crimson stops as well, peering around the corner they have approached. “-- Trap rooms."

The hallway ends on a left turn, giving way to another room. This area is larger than the previous puzzle room. There is a thin, one inch wide stone catwalk that leads from one end to the other. Crimson notices thin glistening lines all around the room - some sort of wire or webbing. He then looks down at the seemingly endless pit that surrounds the thin strip of ground.

“I don’t even want to know how far down that goes,” Dahlia mutters. “Falling off that walkway will wrap you all up in those webs there. Can’t move. Can’t fly. Only fall and die.”

“Who ever made this is mentally unsound,” Crimson says with furrowed brows, taking a step back from the edge.

“You think this is bad? Trust me, there’s much, much worse out there.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it. ... I'm thinkin' I can't cross this."

“You're thinkin' is correct. Look,” she points to the webbing above the catwalk, “that’s gonna catch your head, even if you duck down. These webs were placed down to match a pony’s height. You can’t crawl either, there’s webs evenly spaced out on that walkway. Plus, you’re too wide. You gotta stay back.”

“You’re just gonna leave me here."

"Even though I really should, I won't."

"I'm havin' a bit of trouble believing you."

“Ugh, I won't! Quit crying.” She frowns against his glare. The air around them rapidly becomes terse.

Looking away, Crimson puts his hands into his pockets in silent submission.

Dahlia breaths deeply to compose herself, turning and standing before the catwalk. She puts one hoof down on it. Then the next one. With a small hop, she stands up upon the thin walkway with all four hooves.

She moves her hindlegs in sync with her forelegs, leaving one hindleg and one foreleg floating off a bit in an adjacent fashion. She manages to balance herself perfectly on two legs, trading spots with her other two legs every time she takes a step.

Another set of steps. Another.

Crimson feels his heart racing just watching her. The glistening webs surround her like dreamy twinkles of light.

Step. Step. Step. Dahlia ever so slowly continues along the path. Within a number of seconds, she is already halfway across the length. Crimson is baffled by her sense of balance.

“Crimson?”

“Huh?” his eyes widen. He turns around, swearing he heard his sister call for him from behind.

The shattered silence gets a small tense-up from Dahlia, making her clench her teeth. “… Would. You kindly. Shut up?”

“…” Crimson looks back at Dahlia, then around himself again. Viola's voice - it sounded so close and warm.

“… Nch, nnh. Shit. Nnrh."

Crimson snaps his gaze towards the tan mare again. “You alright? What’s goin’ on?”

“My tail. I think it’s stuck,” Dahlia utters without moving a muscle.

Crimson leans in a bit closer and squints. He sees it there, a web has stuck itself to Dahlia’s tail. The webs are much stronger and stickier than they appear to be. “Yeah, you got a thing on your tail. Can you still move with that?”

“I could... if I wanted to bring the mass of webs down and get myself killed,” Dahlia murmurs impatiently. Crimson desperately looks around for something, anything, that could help. “Just… try to be quiet.”

Crimson raises his left brow, surprised at her tackiness even in such a bad situation. Dahlia slowly, very slowly, uses the foreleg that she has dangling off the edge to reach over to her shirt pocket. She takes out the dart that she stowed away, and with the motions of a patient snail, she moves her foreleg back, extending the dart out so the tip aims at her tail. She guesses which part of her tail is caught… and methodically swipes the dart’s fine end to slice off a small piece of her tail.

She slowly moves forward.

"Mrh. Still stuck," Dahlia whispers in her own head.

She guesses again, swinging the end of the dart, to no avail.

"Damn it... c'mooon..."

Again.

"Mrrgh…"

Crimson watches, resisting the urge to speak up and help, but he stops himself and thinks about it critically. He realizes that Dahlia does this for a living… she is probably more than capable of getting out of that mess… he hopes.

She guesses once more. Swipe~

She attempts to move forward a little. "Got it," she cheers mentally as a small smile takes her lips. She slowly brings the dart back and pockets it once again. She continues forward, until she successfully makes it to the other side and freely wiggles her body.

“Phew!" she sighs out her relief. "Now that was really sketchy.” She sees the man giving her a thumbs up from across the room, unsure what he means by it. She looks around before simply walking away, disappearing from sight.

After a moment of nothing occurring, Crimson squints. He remains standing near the edge of the webbed room, hoping that something happens. To his dismay, nothing but a shivering howl of the cold temple air brushes past him.

He stands there by himself with nothing but time passing him by. Second after second.

BRHK-KRRRR!

Suddenly, his body shifts into defensive mode when a loud mechanism goes off to his right. He raises his fists with dilated eyes, witnessing a section of the wall near him rising into the ceiling, revealing a hidden path. He lowers his guard, glancing down this path, then over to where Dahlia was. She reappears into view. “Come on over!”

With several tons lifted off his conscious, he sighs in relief. He walks with determination, taking the hidden corridor to his partner. The way it curves left, this path stretches around the perimeter of the web room. He comes out the other end, finding a cocky Dahlia waiting for him.

“Heh, see?" the mare says proudly. "You were crying over nothing.”

“Wasn't 'crying.'"

“Yeah right. You were all, 'OoOh, you’re gonna just leAvE me HeRe!'”

Crimson does not put in the effort to retort. The two continue down another hallway of the same architecture to the previous halls.

Walking through this hallway leads to another room, and this one looks to be the same size as the first one with the three doors. The two examine this room, finding that it has a canal cut into the middle, maybe two feet wide and two feet deep. Water flows through it, coming out of the ground from the left side of the wall and flowing into the right.

Dahlia notices that there are grooves all over the floor, as if someone took a bowl and set it inside still-drying cement. She counts twenty grooves, all evenly spaced, which are placed all throughout the edges of the room. Crimson spots a piece of ancient pottery on a pedestal next to the exit of this room.

“A flask, water, and some holes,” Dahlia mutters. “They couldn’t think of something more original?”

“I suppose not everyone is as bright and cunning as you, miss Do.”

“Ew, don’t call me that. The other name you use is fine.”

Crimson walks over the flowing water to reach the flask that is propped up on the pedestal. He takes it, walking back to Dahlia—

Brrrrrrrrr...

“Hnh?” Both of them question at the same time. The wall behind them rumbles violently. A wall descends from the entrance they came through, threatening to close them in quickly.

“Shoot, gimme gimme!” Dahlia says, motioning with her hooves to the flask. “If that wall closes on us, we’re locked in and we’re screwed!”

Crimson makes haste to her, handing her the flask, which she practically steals from him. She zips down quickly to fill the flask with water, then proceeding to dash over to the closest groove, pouring the water from the flask into it. With enough water to fill another, she does so. It seems that one full flask is enough for two grooves.

The wall is almost halfway shut.

Crimson frantically darts his attention around. He looks at the flowing water, coming up with a terrible plan.

He runs to it and gets down on his knees, leaning down and filling his mouth with water and taking some into his cupped hands. The water in his mouth tastes grossly salted, his left eye closes in disgust. He runs over to the closest groove on the opposite side of Dahlia’s work. He dumps the water from his hands and mouth into the groove, filling it a small amount.

The two continue this pace. The wall is three quarters down.

Dahlia occasionally glances at the descending stone, eyes dilating further and further as it makes its descent. They continue to move with the conviction of a doe fleeing from a lion.

Five grooves left. Four left. Three, two.

One groove left.

Crimson spits into the last groove, finally filling it up.

The wall, centimeters from shutting, clicks loudly. With the sound of mechanisms working, the wall begins to rise again. The door that exits this room and leads into the next clicks and opens on its own.

The duo sweating from anxiety sigh in relief. Dahlia smiles over at the man. “That was stupid close… good thinking there, Crim. You only filled one hole the entire time, but that one hole saved our sorry hides."

“You sayin’ you would’a gotten trapped if you came here alone?” Crimson suggests playfully.

Her passive simper trades immediately for a nasty scowl. “Let’s not get carried away. I don’t exactly ‘need’ you here. I would’a got it done on my own, just like I always have."

There it is again, he thinks. That complete reversal in attitude. He comes to realize that perhaps she was being serious on what she mentioned about joking. He takes her comment in stride, knowing it was mostly his own fault.

The two walk through the newly opened door, into another hallway of the same structure as before.

“Guessin’ whoever worked this place really enjoyed this style,” Crimson mumbles, looking over the hall's length and its decorative style. “They replicated each little scribble perfectly. Takes some skill in the finer crafts.”

“Nah, probably magic."

“… Magic?”

“Yeah. You know? Unicorns? The glowing horns on their head? Magic. Probably some spell that does the work for them.”

Crimson contemplates quietly, thinking of all of the bone-appendages he saw glimmering on a few ponies' heads back at Dodge.

They finally arrive to the end of the hall, where the walls and ceiling continue to spread out until the room they are in matches a coliseum in dimension. The hallway ends and a wide, wooden bridge begins, one that directs a path to the middle of this large room. There, in the center, lies a great stone pedestal that holds an emissive object.

“Look. Right there. That’s our payday,” Dahlia says as she walks forward fearlessly.

Crimson is busy examining the room itself. Large, perfectly spaced pillars from the ground to the ceiling line the room. The engravings on the walls and pillars themselves are perfectly aligned and symmetrical. The ceiling of this room has mirrors layered all throughout, reflecting everything off the ground in a terribly disorienting fashion. The bridge they walk upon prevents them from falling into the water that floods the base of the room.

“This is… impressive," Crimson muses aloud. He walks faster to catch up with Dahlia, who is already standing before the pedestal. He looks at what it holds. It appears to be a perfectly spherical, smooth, reflective orange ball, small enough to be put into a medallion or pendant. It emits a soft, orange shimmering aura.

“… Wait," the mare utters, "I think I know what this is. ... But this couldn’t be. It was just some spooky tale from the War.”

“What is?”

“This… this relic. It-- … watch, here.” Dahlia takes the relic, shoving it onto Crimson’s chest. “Hold this.”

Confused, but doing what she asks, he holds it in the palm of his hand, cupping his fist around it. Dahlia, without warning, shoves him with both forelegs as hard as she can. He grunts and stumbles back, but his left leg rises and stomps back, fixing his equilibrium instantly. “The hell?” he questions, squinting at the mare in vexation.

“Haha! You see? That relic, it’s the Orb of Tramana. The relic of balance! That ball is capable of perfecting your sense of balance! Or, something like that. Whatever it was you just did! You could stand on a pine seed without falling over with this thing!” Dahlia takes the relic back from Crimson, holding it close to her face.

“That’s, uh… swell?" His excitement is prominently plastic. “Sounds to me like you didn’t actually know what was in this death trap temple. Or if there was anything at all.”

“Well, no. Obviously. No one really knows anything for sure. Just gotta take a leap of faith!”

Crimson eyes daggers at the pony who is too busy with the relic to acknowledge him.

“You see, this relic… it comes from a family of relics. Ancient, powerful pony enchanters made a set hundreds of moons ago. Relics that would mess with the properties of the world itself! One would give you super strength and reflexes! Another would perfect your depth perception! One was even said to have the ability to travel through TIME! We're not entirely sure what happened to the ponies who made these things, and information about them is practically non-existent, but one thing's for sure, they REAAALLY didn't want anyone to find these.”

“For good reason, the damn things sound real dangerous.”

“No crap they're dangerous. That's why they'll probably sell for so much! Legend has it… if all of the relics are united together, their abilities are enhanced a million-fold! Pretty crazy stuff!”

"Why would anyone make somethin' like this?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

"That ain't a good answer. For something this dangerous, this temple obviously didn’t work.” He glares at Dahlia holding the orange sphere.

“Well you can’t keep ME out. I’m too amazing. Plus, remember that pretty much nopony even knows these exist, so don't worry too much about the end of the world or whatever. C’mon, me and my newly trimmed tail are already sick of this place,” she says as she walks past the pedestal.

Crimson slowly shakes his head before walking with her.

They approach a small archway on the far end of the room which leads to a spiraling staircase. They take this staircase up a few hundred steps before they reach the top. They enter a small square room that only has a lever in it. Dahlia pulls it, causing a fake wall to give way. “Now we can get some fresh air.” She beams with a bit of swagger in her trot.

The exit leads into a cave, where the exit to this cave is seen out in the distance a good-some meters ahead. The cave is pitch black, but the light at the end of the tunnel guides them. They step carefully, unable to see exactly where their steps are going to land. This cave is quiet and oddly warm, musky even.

It almost feels alive.

“Gy-woh!” Crimson suddenly sounds, tripping over and falling onto his side. He grunts in annoyance after hitting the ground with a thud.

“Nice one, dumbo,” Dahlia mumbles.

“RGH!?”

“Sheesh, calm down, Crim, I was joking.”

“… That wasn’t me,” he says as he rises to his feet.

“… What do you mean?”

“RRRAH!” “URAUR!”

A flood of unrelenting screams and wild growls fill the cave. Dahlia's ears fall flat on her head and her wings spread wide. “HUMANS! RUN!”

“Humans?” Crimson repeats in confusion.

A Shimmering Light

~ 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.

Act 2: Royal Toil

~ Equestria, the Passenger Train ~<
January 29th, Friday, 10:11

‎

Crimson slowly blinks his eyes open, returning to the waking world. They shift around before his head does, keeping himself still as to not disturb the weight he feels on his left arm. He then turns his head to the left to see Dahlia sleeping soundly, still resting her head against his side. Her mouth is slightly agape, and her silver and black mane plasters messily against his bicep and triceps, tickling his skin whenever she gently rocks due to the train's movements.

He blinks out the rest of his sleepiness, ensuring to remain still so the mare at his side sleeps comfortably. He watches her sleeping form subconsciously, admiring her features from close up. He feels she is a much more adorable in this state, where she does speak down or belittle him. Still, he cannot find it in himself to blame her. He assumes she has been through her fair share of tribulations. It is the main reason he overlooks her harshness.

Someone who had a gifted and healthy childhood would certainly not resort to a wandering, pilfering lifestyle, he thinks. He finds it a shame that she is insisting on keeping the weight on herself, rather than allowing someone help her with it. But he understands clearly that pushing her to open herself up will only cause problems, much less solve them.

Crimson twists his neck in an uncomfortable fashion to look around, keeping the pillow that is his body very still. He sees that a number of other ponies have boarded the train as the ride has gone on. He also notices that they have decided to sit a good distance away from where he and Dahlia sit.

He turns his head forward, looking out the window he sits next to. He does not get to see much from this side, but from what he can, the train is chugging up the side of a mountain, increasing in elevation as it continues. He looks to his left, to the windows on the other side of the cart. His eyes widen a little when he catches glimpse of the view.

From this vantage point, he can see for miles and miles. He can see little towns and villages, and even some bigger cities way out in the distance. Natural spectacles draw his attention as well, such as immense mountains which touch the heavens all over Equestria, bodies of water, swamps, forests, and a rather unsettling-looking stretch of land to the far south. He also notes a multi-colored marvel to the west, appearing to be a waterfall of pure rainbow liquid.

The train continues along its path. The side of the mountain gives way to reveal a huge city, one made of marble and gold. Crimson’s brows rise from impression. His eyes glint at the sight of this place. Even if he wanted to speak out loud, he could not. The sheer majesty of this land, the towering buildings and the beautiful structures, it steals the breath from in him.

As the train approaches the station of this city, he looks down at Dahlia, shaking her gently for her to wake up.

“Mmn… stop… moving so much,” she mumbles quietly. Crimson’s brows furrow a little and he shakes her slightly harder. “Rrrh... whaaat?” Her eyes barely open as she turns her head up to gawk at him. He motions with his head towards the window, a small smile trying to make itself onto his face. “... Ugh, we’re here already?” she mutters, rubbing her eyes with her hooves. "Hugh, whatever. Just need to get this over with so we can ditch this place."

Crimson is confused at her reaction, not understanding what is so bad about Canterlot. It is beautiful and clean, he thinks, though he is in no position to ask for details at the moment.

The train comes to a halt, steaming in a deflating manner, allowing the boarding door to open safely. Dahlia yawns and hops off her seat, taking the leash into her left hoof. Crimson scoots over and stands up, assuming his now-usual spot behind her.

As soon as the human rises, every single eye in the cart shoots towards him. The ponies in the cart freeze, wide-eyed and tense. Dahlia hardly acknowledges the crowd, simply walking past them. The man follows behind her, his eyes slowly shifting through every pony’s judgmental gaze. They clear a path for Dahlia as she walks, ponies stepping on each other’s hooves and tails just to get out of the lumbering monster’s way.

The two exit the cart. The ponies around, inside the cart and those standing at the station's platform, finally start exiting and entering the cart once the potential danger has cleared.

Crimson is not sure where Dahlia is taking him, and he probably should have asked her before coming here, but he trusts in her judgement. He does not think about it too much as he becomes more taken aback when standing inside the city of Canterlot. The elevation does make this city chillier than Dodge, but it is nothing his shirtlessness cannot handle.

His flip-flops clap smoothly along the perfectly waxed marble floor, and the structures make even the tallest of men feel insignificant. He is almost overwhelmed by the pure existence of a place like this. Though he knew it to be true, he is definitely not on Earth.

He sees that there are many ponies around, walking about with their chins high, dressed in really fancy attire with quaffed and primped manes. They look kind of ridiculous, but he expects this behavior from a high-class environment. He thinks having it translated into pony form is every bit uncanny as it seems.

He hears some shouting going off in some distant part of the city. Dahlia hears this too, her eyes locked onto the direction of where it seems to be coming from. Whatever the noise is, Dahlia appears to be interested but cautious. Crimson discretely notes her wariness with one quick shift of his eyes to her expression.

The duo continue to walk. Many large, expansive marble staircases and roads later, the ruckus heard earlier grows louder and clearer. They encounter a T-shaped intersection in the road where a crowd of ponies is present at the front gate entrance to a structure that would only exist in a fairy tale.

Just when he thought it could not get any more impressive, he looks upwards, along the length of a massive, sky-piercing castle. It trumps everything else in Canterlot, in terms of structure and sheer majesty. It is protected by a tall border of high-tower walls that span quite an extensive perimeter, with enough land on the inside to form its own mini-city.

“Uh oh,” Dahlia suddenly whispers. Crimson’s halts his stargazing immediately, focusing down on the tense pegasus. "Oh no. Hooh shit, I forgot. Shit. Shit, shit!"

It does not take Crimson a second glance to find out what she is worried about. Just ahead, near the large front gate of this castle’s walls, is a incredibly vast, rectangular formation of creatures. They appear to be humans, chained up and aligned with one another.

The man's brows furrow incredulously at the sight, but like everything else that he's had a hard time trying to believe, it’s right there. He is seeing it with his own two eyes.

Regal ponies in golden armor stand around this formation, along with a few finely dressed ponies in posh suit uniforms. Some ponies in armor appear to be exchanging discrete words with those in suits.

However, Crimson readily assumes that the human formation is not what Dahlia was worried about, but instead two unicorn stallion guards in golden armor who spotted them and are now actively approaching them. They look angry and serious, giving them a no-nonsense air. Dahlia’s eyes grow wide as she turns around and tries to walk away with Crimson, pretending that nothing is out of the ordinary.

“HALT!” shouts one of the guards.

“Shit,” Dahlia utters, stopping completely.

“You there. Do you have your documentation for that human?” asks the second guard.

“I, uh, yeah. I just don't have it on me right now,” Dahlia states innocently.

“Ma’am," the first guard begins, "city law dictates that humans should never be brought into a public space without holding proper documentation at all times. This is a serious violation, and a hazard to the citizens of Canterlot.”

“I know! But I take him out for walks all the time! The first time I forget to bring my papers is the day I get stopped. What gives? You guys haven't done this before!”

"You should have thought of that before wandering without your documents. He will be joining the formation. Perhaps you can bid for him again. The financial impact you may face will be punishment enough, and serve as a reminder to hold onto your documents religiously."

"What!? B-! But that's fucked up!"

"Corporal," the second guard speaks quietly to his companion. "The formation? That's a special order list from the princess herself. Should we really stick him in there?"

"Do you wanna write the citation and fetch the keys to the stow house?" The second guard puckers his lips. "What I thought." In unison, the two guards look back at Dahlia. “We are confiscating the human, ma’am,” the first guard firmly says as they both approach Crimson.

The man cups his hand into fists and takes a step forward. The two guards look frightened at this action and stop, placing their hooves at their belts with wide eyes.

“NO!" Dahlia interrupts their tense exchange. "No! You can’t!” she cries, backing her flank into Crimson's leg to stop him.

Crimson looks down at her, hiding his surprise. This odd posture that she has for him, the type of posture which signals that she might actually care for him to some degree, breathes to him a pleasant and heartwarming air.

It probably doesn't help her case here though, since the guards only seem to get more aggressive at his and her defiance. Still, she continues to find excuses. “He gets angry when I'm not around, and he only likes to listen to me! You saw it just now! Trust me, I’ve tried to get him trained with other ponies, zero luck. Every time.” Dahlia looks at Crimson with a phony smile, then back at the guards. "Just let me go so I can get my documents, then I'll be back!"

"Ma’am," the second guard says in a harsh, pissy manner, "you should be happy we’re not fining you for breaking the law, IGNORING the fact that you have an aggressive human in your possession. If you would like a fine and time in the city jail, then persist on obstructing justice. The human. Comes. With us.”

“No, please! He’ll attack you if you take him!” Dahlia shouts desperately, getting some eyes from gathering spectators. Her voice and the amount of emotion in her eyes is confusing Crimson, it presents a complete contrast to how she's been acting for the past few days he's been with her.

He is having a difficult time simply standing there and doing nothing. He has half a mind to break their faces and book it with Dahlia, but he knows likely a death-sentence for him and possibly Dahlia if he tries to pull anything rash. There are too many witnesses, too many guards, and little places to run.

During Crimson's internal struggle, the guards stare at each other again. One of them reaches down into a pouch on his belly and takes out a hoof-sized purple spray bottle of sorts, then he rears it up to Crimson's face. The man has little time to react before a pink mist is sprayed onto his face.

“Kh!—” he grits, squinting his eyes. He holds his breath, but far too late. Some of the substance has already reached his lungs. He enters a coughing fit. His senses melt. As his sense of consciousness is challenged by this narcotic, a flash of blind rage takes ahold of him.

Dahlia gasps, her eyes beam in horror. She then directs a furious gaze to the guards. “WHAT did you DO!?”

“Neutralizing potion, ma’am," the second guard states cockily. "His cognitive senses are now relaxed and he poses no threat to any ponies around. The potion possess no long-term damage or effects, the human will simply fail to remember what has occurred whilst influenced.”

Dahlia looks at Crimson with dread in her eyes, ignoring the explanation the guard gives. She already knows what it does, despite her accusative question.

After the coughing fit ends, the man begins to slowly rock left and right, blinking his eyes unevenly. These same uneven eyes direct to the perpetrator who sprayed him, giving him a profound squint of disdain.

"Fear not, ma'am, he is now in a passive state. We will have to confiscate him, and you may bid for him again at the-- HoURH!"

Dahlia gasps in horror. The man suddenly stomps his left foot forward and throws a strong right hook towards the stallion. It connects on the their helmet, rattling their head and sending them to the marble floor with a thud. Crimson then staggers like a puppet and punts the other guard with his foot-- "KRhOUGH!" -- sending him back several feet before his armor clamors loudly at him hitting the ground.

“Rgh, rhk, backup!” the fisted guard cries in a panic. Before he even needs to call, seven other golden suited stallions rush up to aid them. "We need backup!"

"No! Nonono!" Dahlia pleads as her wings spread, shifting her attention indecisively between the swaying, unsteady Crimson and the incomers.

Crimson looks around wildly for a route of escape, but his world is beginning to twist uncontrollably as he turns his head. He feels his cognition leaving him every millisecond.

"Damn it! The potion is still setting in! Detain him!" a guard hollers.

Crimson tries to run to Dahlia and take her away, but he finds himself unable to move as the coming guardforce all channel their ethereal magics simultaneously to apprehend him. Like being trapped in a spider's web, he cannot lift his arms from his sides. Still, he struggles with grit teeth to no avail.

The guards arrive and forcefully shove Dahlia out of the way to surround him. She stumbles back, gasping again before looking back at this scene in total dismay. She stares up at the restrained man, pinpricks for eyes. Even though he wrestles against the magic, he fails to break free.

Every bystander watches the scene critically or curiously. Some both.

Once the man is successfully bound, the guard who was punched turns around angrily - some blood drips from his left nostril and the corner of his lip. He growls and snatches the collar that Dahlia was holding, turning and walking away towards the formation.

“HEY! Don’t you--! Rrrrrh!” Dahlia tries to follow, but at her outburst, the bleeding guard snaps to her like a sentry and bellows while channeling his magic to restrain her as well.

“This human will be subject to the formation! And any further interference from you will end you in the Dungeon!”

He grits at her then tosses her back with his magic. Dahlia stumbles once again but keeps herself from falling over. She lowers her face to glower at him.

Turning around promptly, he and his squad collectively escort Crimson to the formation, the man staggering forward and barely keeping his balance. The last thing Dahlia hears before he is dragged away is a healthy guard scolding the one who was punched. "Get the damn key next time, you idiot!"

Still restrained, Crimson attempts to look back at Dahlia. He makes contact with her glistening desperate eyes.

The potion sprayed into Crimson's face continues to contort his world wildly the longer its effects have time to climb. His critical thinking skills drop to nearly zero, and his cognitive functions are barely intact. He could not throw another punch to save his life.

He is taken and planted onto the left side of the formation, the side closest to the large walls of the Castle. The guard squad that suppressed him disperses once he is melded.

Crimson looks around in a hazy disarray, eyes half-open and brows raised. He cannot find it inside himself to lift his feet and run. He feels like a vat of cement was poured onto him. All he manages to do is eye the other humans that surround him.

“ALL HAIL!” a guard shouts.

Every visible pony in sight bows in a weird manner, and surprisingly enough, even the humans bow down on one knee - be it instinctual or otherwise. The red-haired man stands there like a sore thumb, to which a guard hastily trots behind him and bashes him in the back of his knee with their hoof. The man grunts angrily and stumbles onto one knee, looking back, gawking at the guard who had caused this inconvenience.

The guard stares back, giving a hard-ass, ‘what-are-you-looking-at’ stare in return, but finds that this man won't look away. Suddenly, Crimson's eyes dilate like a rabid animal, and a big, toothy smirk takes his face for a split second.

The guard’s eyes shoot wide open, startled as if he just witnessed some sort of eldritch nightmare. He suspends his belief briefly, shaking his head and looking back towards the smirking human... only to find him not smirking at all. The red-haired creature only stares back with a dumb, expressionless look. The guard swallows a lump in his throat, taking a step back and looking away to something else.

The gates of this huge castle wall complain loudly as they start to rise, and the heavy silver chains rattle while they ascend. Crimson picks his head up, staring with half-lidded eyes to the cause of this commotion. Many guards in golden armor come out of the gate, leading something or someone of importance.

Crimson's droopy eyes widen slightly. A tall, snow white pony with wings and a horn is marching promptly out of the archway. Her mane and tail flow as if wind was constantly blowing on them, and they are solid, reflective, shiny pink. He manages to notice that her posterior has a sun tattooed on it, similar to how Dahlia has a compass with a wing in center.

Crimson witnesses an exchange happening. One of the stallions in the fancy black and green suits is talking to this pony queen. More appropriately, the queen is talking gently and the stallion is quivering in fear like a soggy noodle. After some words, the queen pony turns and starts to walk slowly down the isle from the left side of the formation. The stallion she was talking to tails right behind her. She appears to be examining humans all across the formation.

After a faint realization hits, Crimson ducks his head down and tries to keep a low profile. He cannot see where the queen goes, but he hopes not towards him.

"Mm, was this one in the manifest?" His eyes dilate when he figures the queen is singling him out. The presence approaches until it is right next to him. He sees a hoof donning a golden slipper appear in his peripheral vision, followed by something cool and hard touching his shoulder.

"H-He, uh..." the stallion wearing green stammers, "... m-may have been a spare from the west facility. He's a lot bigger than the others."

"Indeed. He is much larger than the rest... yet, so calm. A gentle giant."

"Only the best, princess Celestia! Just as you request!"

"Hm~" The slipper made of hard gold still remains on the man's shoulder. He can feel his blood going cold. The 'princess' smiles, turning to face the quivering stallion directly. "This one.”

A brief flash of sobriety hits Crimson at those words. Though, he is relaxed forcibly and sent into mental disarray due to the potion.

His body begins to tickle and weigh nothing, causing him to raise his head and look around wildly. He sees he is encompassed with yellow-golden magic, floating just above the formation of humans. The source is the pony queen, drawing energy from her long pointy horn to levitate him. The mixture of the potion used on him in addition to being man-handled by an immaterial force nearly causes him to throw up.

“Y-Yes, of course, princess Celestia. Take him,” the suited stallion she was first making business with stammers with great relief. "Phew," he huffs, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. He smiles, giving the princess a more composed smile. "We are very pleased you've found something to your satisfaction so quickly!"

“Indeed. And I thank you, High Barter. Now, I have several things I must prepare for. You and the Grey Company are dismissed,” the princess declares gently.

"No, thank you, princess. We hope to see you again next month." Celestia simply nods at him in return.

With that, High Barter whistles loudly. The ponies around rise back up, along with every single human. Crimson looks around in his daze, trying to spot Dahlia. A massive crowd of ponies has amassed, he cannot tell who from what in the wave of colors. He squints, mouth hanging open slightly while forcing his brain to function at a passable level.

Pfrr!

The world around Crimson distorts madly for a split second, a new environment suddenly taking the place of the previous one. The man was magically teleported by Celestia into a large, tall-ceiling loft inside Canterlot Castle. Crimson looks around, completely lost mentally and directionally.

“Don’t be scared now, my dear human. You’re in good hooves,” the princess coos in a motherly manner, tilting her head up a small bit to stare into his eyes.

Her magic envelops the grimy faded green collar currently around Crimson’s neck, undoing it without an ounce of effort. She takes it off and blinks it out of existence. Crimson's brows furrow as he tries to figure out how she did that, or where the collar was even sent.

“Ooh, you’re perfect! I’m sure she will just love you. A perfect specimen for the perfect researcher," she murmurs, blinking another collar into existence. This one is, just by looking at it, of much higher quality. It is a light, easy blue color with pink highlights, fuzzy in texture. She levitates it over and straps it onto Crimson’s neck. It indeed feels snug and comfortable, at least in comparison to the old collar that Dahlia had.

No matter how elegant this collar is, his collapsing mind still draws the same amount of disdain for it. He thinks Dahlia would probably hate this new collar more than the old one.

"... Dahlia..."

Celestia picks up the blue leash with her magic, beginning her trot towards a purple door that is guarded by two ponies in armor. After Crimson is tugged by the rope, he walks with her automatically. His body goes into auto-pilot.

The two guards open the large door for the princess and close it behind them once they pass. They enter a huge, luxurious hallway. The left side of the hall has many doors of all shapes and sizes. The right side has tall, beautiful stain glass windows with all sorts of stories marked onto them.

“I wonder where the Grey Company found you. You’re quite extraordinary, do you know that?” Celestia says as she slows down to walk along side Crimson. “Even since humans were first found in Equestria, I’ve never seen anything quite like you. Or at least, I've never seen anything like you that the Company seemed to know nothing about. Curious. I wonder if you once belonged to somepony else.” Celestia smiles, having to look up a little to stare into the man's eyes.

Crimson is too distracted to pay attention to what she is saying, looking at the beautiful architecture that decorates the inside of the Castle. He is mainly attracted to the stain-glass windows that line the right side of this long hall they are walking through.

“With your baffling height and pristinely kept form. You’re even shaved! Mm, you are so wonderfully kept. I’m almost a little jealous~” Celestia coos close to his ear with allure in her gaze.

Crimson’s less-than-optimal cognition thinks about the words Celestia speaks, but doesn't actually process them.

She stops when the two almost reach the end of this massive, royal hallway. She halts in front of the last door on the left, which is a foggy, glass double door with a golden frame. The fog does not allow one to peek inside.

Celestia knocks twice, her golden shoe making a curious tap against the glass. She then opens the door with her magic, helping herself inside along with her leashed human.

Crimson peers through the moist mist and fog of this room to see where he is. The room they have entered is a spa bath house of some sort, and inside are three unicorns. These unicorns sort of look… the same. They have the same eyes, very similar mane and tail styles, but their colors are different. Their coats are all grey though.

They are females of slightly different ages, where the two older mares are towel-drying two different humans. The mares are not old, but older in relation to one-another. One is light grey and cyan, the other is light grey and teal. The youngest mare, who is sitting on a white plastic chair with her legs tucked under herself while reading a magazine, is light grey and lavender. They’re very feminine and clean, and this entire room smells very pleasant.

The mares direct their gaze to the princess once she enters. They smile, closing their eyes and bowing with their heads.

“Velcome back, princess Celes’cha!” the cyan one speaks up first.

“Hello again, girls. I have one more for you,” Celestia says with a neutral smile, using her magic to guide Crimson forward into view.

The mares look at him, their eyes widening happily.

“Vaaoow! He’s so adorable!” the teal one says.

“I vould be honored, my princess!” the cyan one says.

The lavender one is quiet, only staring with her wide, purple eyes.

“Actually, Kiri,” Celestia looks at the cyan mare, “Keri,” she glances to the teal one, “you two should join me for lunch. I see that those humans I gave you are nice and clean.”

“A-Ah, v-vy yes, zey are!" Kiri stammers before chuckling nervously. "B-But I really do not mind! Cleaning zat human zea before lunch vould be fine!"

“Oh, that’s quite alright, Kiri. You two have earned a break. Your sister Kimi can take care of it. Isn’t that right, Kimi?” Celestia looks to the youngest mare, who was sitting there simply reading, having noticed that she has remained bashfully quiet.

“Eee!” Kimi sits up straight with a smile that takes up her entire face. “O-Of course, p-princess! I v-vould be honored!"

Celestia's passive simper strengthens at seeing her subject display glee. “Take good care of him, Kimi, he’s a... special order."

With that, Celestia takes the two humans that were already here into her magic, blinking in collars that are less posh as Crimson’s, but not of shoddy quality either. They are strapped on. The humans seldom react to anything that is happening to them. The two mares that were asked to lunch follow Celestia as she leaves this spa-esque room.

The two sisters snap their heads back just before they leave the room, gawking at their youngest sibling. They make a motion with their hooves that say, “I’m watching you…”

The youngest sister furrows her brows, giving them a displeased look. The group exit the room with the two other humans, closing the glass doors behind them.

Crimson is left alone in this misty, relaxing room with Kimi. He sniffs the scent of peaches, possibly coming from the mare that's now standing right next to him. The little lavender and grey earth pony suddenly squees in happiness.

“Finally! I get to vurk on a beautiful human! It’s always my sisters zat get the good wans. My sisters neva share! But now Kimi gets to finally enjoy herself! Hooh, zank you so mach, Celes'cha!” She stares up at him with a big smile. “Come, let us get zose clothes off!” she says, her horn glowing with soothing purple magic. First to come off was the collar with one easy click. Then, his shorts are undone and are slipped off, piling onto itself at his ankles.

“Oo, oh my...” the mare’s eyes widen, staring exactly where you would expect, “... you certainly are special.”

Crimson blinks lazily.

Kimi's face takes on a trepid blush that gives her light grey cheeks a tender color. She reaches over with her hoof, placing it on the back of Crimson’s knee. She presses in lightly, making his foot lift off the ground. She removes the shorts from under him along with the flip-flop on that foot. She then performs the same to the other leg, freeing him of his shorts and footwear.

He stands there completely barren, and she can’t help but glance at his soft-spot, over and over.

“… Hooh, it is difficult to vork in zis condition,” she says to herself, furrowing her brows. She takes Crimson’s right thumb into her lips, leading him towards one of the spa’s bathtubs. These tubs are elevated a few feet off the ground, surrounded by three feet of tile border to stand or sit on.

Kimi sits Crimson on the edge of the bathtub with his legs hanging off the side with feet flat on the ground. She watches him uncertainly, exhaling deeply against his hand while gazing at it dreamily.

"I undastand vy my sisters use humans for relief. Yoa such a stunning specimen... but! No!" She looks away from him. "I mast be strong, this beautiful creature iz not mine, and it vould be wrong of me to take advantage of him!” she declares firmly, staring into Crimson’s blank, stargazing eyes. Her fortitude against her lust is quick to waver as her ears flop to her head, and her orbs twinkle with a spark of desire. “… Oh, baht it is so tempting!”

Crimson’s eyes do not change from their jaded, half-lidded state.

“... Hooh, iz not fair! My sisters always get to have fun! They've neva let me do anyzing! Iz always, ‘nooo, Kimi, you cannot do dat! You are too young! Noo, Kimi, zat is not riiight! You cannot do zat to za humans!' Hypocrisy! Zey always play wiff ze humans! And I am a grown mare nao! I hjate my sisters!” She looks at Crimson with anger and self-loathing. The energy of her face slowly changes to that of shyness and timidity.

The blush enveloping her face deepens while her eyes trace the human's form from top to bottom. “… Y… You vould not… mind, vould you? I-I promise I am not like my sisters. I am no slut!” She huffs a proud breath, keeping her gaze fixed on his face for some sort of approval. He only gawks mindlessly in return. “It vill be quick! I-I promise! Humans do not last very long, so it vill be quick. I-I vill do my best to make it feel enjoyable!" Her shining eyes stare at his face, hoping that she gets a positive reaction from him.

He does nothing.

His indifference wrenches the gut of the yearning mare. Second after lengthy second, her forced simper slowly fades as her anxiety rises. She lowers her head, a glint of sorrow in her eyes. "... Vhy do you not answer me? ... Hoooh... I know you cannot...”

She begins to hum and huff her pent up emotions. She proceeds around Crimson to the small steps of the bathtub and turns the faucet. A high-pressure stream of warm water flows into the tub, making quick work to fill it. As it fills, Kimi looks at the man's back; she admires the breadth of his shoulders, the length and locks of the red mop sat on his scalp. The more she tries to stop thinking about it, the more she wants it. A taste of a forbidden fruit.

Once the water reaches the halfway mark, she takes some of the bubble and bomb products stationed at the tub. A wonderous dance of flowery and fruity scents quickly take the air, overriding the already pleasant tinge that the spa has. While the bubbles form, Kimi purses her lips and glances again at the man's back.

Contemplation painted by temptation. Though, through some ton of effort, she moves towards him to aid him into the bathtub. She turns his body and lifts his legs, effectively making him sit with his feet in the bubbly warm water. After, she climbs into the tub and stands in it, taking his arms and pulling him carefully in until he comes off the edge and sits inside near the center.

A small sigh of relief accompanies her success. These small victories help her gain some form of confidence in her rusting skillset. She knows it has been a few weeks since she has had the opportunity to clean a human. Her practice normally dictates the spa pony to stay outside the tub rather than be in with the client, but in this she cannot help herself.

The faucet is turned off once the water nears the top. Taking a hoof-held scrubber, she lathers it with soap and sits down in the water behind him. With gentle yet firm strokes, she scrubs the broad of his back, then continues to the other parts of his exposed body.

Every second, every touch, every scent - all of it rides the waves of Kimi's sensation. She feels her face boiling, her cheeks are tinted cherry red. She swears she was over her stage fright long ago after her initial certification, yet the feeling is back. Worse, even. She cannot stop herself from occasionally jittering and biting her lower lip.

The time comes to turn around and wash his front - a moment she had been dreading the entire time without even actually giving it thought. She mentally conjures any excuse to stay put behind him, but the thought of the relentless berating her sisters would endow if she failed to clean the first client she had in nearly a month is stronger than any stage fright. Thus, she rises from the water.

Her legs tremble violently as her body drips with water. The first step is nearly impossible, a stagger rather than a pace. She barely prevents herself from dunking herself into the bubbles before she finds herself in front of him. She gawks at his front. Nothing that could resemble cognition is found on it. She silently thanks the wind for his inability to concern himself with his surroundings and sits back down.

Kimi continues her scrubbing. A burning blush still rests on her face while taking the scrubber to his pecs, his shoulders, arms, shoulders and pecs again, abs, and legs. Up and downs, circles, left and rights. She does her best to focus on the pattern of her movements rather than the creature she is maintaining. It helps. Keying in on her art is sufficient a distraction for now. In all, it takes her about six minutes total to complete the scrub-down.

Satisfied when the last finger on his left hand as been cleaned thoroughly, she moves away when realizing she leaned in a bit too close for comfort. She analyzes all parts of the works she had finished. A quick sigh marks the introduction of the next process. She sets down the scrubber and obtains one of the bottles of shampoo, all marked and labeled for human use. She uncaps the bottle and turns around, tilting the bottle to--

"Huh!" the mare recoils to find gentle hazel eyes making direct eye contact with her. She finds herself frozen under his punching stare. A gaze so still, barely blinking, and lazy. She can't find a single word to speak.

A slight draft, the rumble of a water heater through the walls, and the calm drift of bathwater are the only sounds filling the silence. Kimi can't figure herself out while being stared at by this unmoving man.

After a moment, his eyes drift from hers to the bottle which is slowly leaking shampoo. This drives Kimi to glance between the bottle and him. She corrects her mistake with an 'eep!' and gets a glob of product onto her hoof. She looks back to Crimson and notes him returning the stare. To her surprise, he closes his eyes, seemingly preparing himself for the catering.

Butterflies dance in her chest. She swallows the tension in her throat and tries at every excuse she can to ease herself. With this, she huffs her tension again and continues her cleaning. She comes up onto her hindlegs and begins applying the shampoo, being careful to spread it evenly and wash it in thoroughly.

She can hardly stand in place. Her anxiousness has her trembling and nearly falling over numerous times.

The wash starts very routine. Something, however, makes this routine cleaning very startling. Hands lurk from under the water, slowly moving and emerging to clasp her hips gently. A confused "Hn?" is all that escapes her nostrils. Instantly, her posture rightens and her legs tremble much less, her small form now fortified by his firm hold.

It takes a few seconds for the action to register to Kimi, but when it does, the blush deepens. Yet, a smile grows.

Said smile continuously widens as the cleaning progresses. Comfort radiates in the previously tense interaction, enough that the trembling in her legs subsides momentarily. While he could remove his hands and return them to his sides, he instead leaves them there, eventually turn into a gentle caress up and down her sides.

A giggle emits from Kimi, and soon enough, the room is catered by her melodic humming. The remainder of the cleaning session is completed with close and comfortable contact.

‎

~~~<

‎

BAM!

Suddenly, the two other spa mares Keri and Kiri enter, Kiri having busted open the door viciously.

Keri's brow furrow at her sister. “Careful wif ze glass doa, Kiri!”

The two mares then gawk in anger to see—

“Ah, velcome back, sisters~” Kimi waves from the seat where she was reading magazines from earlier. She is nice and tidy, cleaned and showing no signs of... anything... except for maybe a certain sheen in her hair.

They see Crimson properly washed and dried off, his shorts and sandals were even cleaned and put back on. The collar Celestia gave him is placed, snug and firm.

Celestia herself walks in after the two mares with the same gracious smile she appears to always have. “Oh, wonderful," she hums, admiring the stark difference in cleanliness present on Crimson. "Thank you very much, Kimi. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“No, princess, the pleasure vas all mine~” she says, giving Crimson a half-lidded smile. This causes a scoff from her sisters, but Celestia remains with her smile.

Crimson stands there in the middle of the room, gently swaying left and right.

“We should be off. Thank you again, girls!” Celestia says, taking the human's leash into her aura and making her exit with him.

Kimi smiles and waves happily. The other two mares wave with less enthusiasm.

Celestia walks Crimson to the end of the large hall in which they entered, where a large purple door sits proudly among the smaller, less decorated doors. The purple door Celestia opens herself as there are no guardponies around this side of the hallway. The room that lies ahead appears to be a rather grandiose bedroom with all sorts of expensive, meticulously crafted furniture and furnishings.

Celestia looks out towards the city of Canterlot from her balcony, which has quite a breath-taking view of the entire city, no, the entire land. The sun is beginning to set, and from what Crimson sees, Celestia is the one responsible for manipulating the sun's position with her magic, but he shows zero reaction to it.

Once she is done repositioning it, she turns around and walks towards him, standing directly in front of him but inches away. “Well, my lovely human... this is where we say goodbye.” The smile she gives him is so comforting and warm, he feels as if he's personally connected with this mare to some degree. “You will be in good hooves, I know of it. I think you’ll be just as happy as she will be when you arrive.” Her horn glows with her majestic aura, enveloping him in it. “Though it pains me that we must part so soon, my dear,” she smiles a little wider, “I have a feeling it won’t be forever~”

Pfrr!

Crimson's world distorts madly, being teleported off and away from Canterlot.

‎

‎

‎

~ Equestria, ??? ~<
January 29th, Friday, 17:59

‎

“Nnh, mmh. ... Hn!?" His eyes snap open. “Dahlia!?” he shouts as he sits up. He looks around quickly in pure panic, barely now snapping back to his position on Canterlot's streets.

This is not Canterlot. Far from it. He reaches to his neck at the collar which was placed on him. He rips it off and chucks it randomly.

Frantically, he throws his eyes around the room. A room, unfamiliar room. Bed, unfamiliar bed. He is on the bed. There is a blue pony staring at him - she looks scared. A lamp is on over there. Door is directly in front of him. It is slightly opened and--

Crimson freezes. "Blue... pony?" He slowly turns his head to his right, looking at a young mare wearing glasses who is sitting on a rocking chair next to the bed. She looks absolutely mortified. “... I… uh…” Crimson’s grains of sand for pupils shift around awkwardly. “… Howdy?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Act 3: Stubborn As a Rock

~ Equestria, ??? ~<
January 29th, Friday, 18:00

‎

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Her ear piercing scream is followed by hyperventilation and violent shaking.

Crimson darts his eyes desperately to anything that could ease the situation, but the only tool at his disposal is his own wit. He sits up on the bed and holds his hands in front of him, motioning them calmly. “Easy, eeeasy. I ain’t gonna hurt ya’. I'm, uh... friendly." He puts his hand on his chest. "Friend."

The scratches and scars littered throughout his chest, arms, and shoulders do little to give him an air of peace and tranquility. In fact, the more he speaks, the more horrified she looks.

Her back is firmly pressed against the rocking chair which she sits on and her pupils are shaking, but nevertheless, he continues in his attempt to appease to her. “You understand me, right? Listen. It's alright. Calm down. Slooow breaths.” He speaks as tenderly as his deep, rough drawl will let him. "In... and out, in... and out."

The mare still eyeballs him in fear, but she appears to be internalizing his words. She's steadying her breathing, following the pace of his voice.

Crimson takes this time to study her form now that she is not bound for a heart-attack. She is a youthful unicorn mare, her coat is an easy blue color, with her mane and tail being a slightly darker shade of blue with streaks of pink. Her currently dilated, trembling eyes are a vibrant pink as well.

Her body is, from what he gauges in comparison to the other ponies he has already seen, a little bit on the heavy side. She is not overweight to the point where it makes her look unhealthy, but she definitely has more fat on her than other ponies. Her face is rounded, giving her a more circular shape. Just from how well-groomed, unscathed, and delicate she looks, Crimson can tell that she does not get out much.

Finally, she begins to calm down. The man clears his throat and smiles. “Sorry for yellin', I was, uh... havin' a bad dream. I didn't mean to scare ya'.”

“T-T-Talking... human," she stammers quietly. Her voice is sweet and easy on the ears, a complete contrast to the headache-inducing scream she let out earlier.

"... Yeah."

"T-Talking human! Human is talking! And smiling! Smiling human!” She points with her hooves as if blaming him.

Crimson purses his lips, already fearing the worse from the truth being known.

“H-How? W-Where did-- ..." She momentarily short-circuits, freezing in place while still pointing her hoof. "... You can't be real! You can't be--! …” She stops herself again, blinking in some sort of realization. Crimson remains unspeaking, waiting for her to come up with a conclusion. “Un… Unless…” she whispers, taking on a thoughtful expression. “Unless you’re apart of the anomalies I’ve been reading.”

“Wh-- ... What? Nah, wait, hang on a minute. Let's take this slow. First, where am I?" he asks and waits patiently for a response... which he doesn't receive, and instead gets a blank stare from her. "... Oookay. So, who're you? ... What's yer name?" His question still remains unanswered, prompting him to try another. "... What am I doin’ here?” Her wide eyes blink the look of being completely and utterly lost. “… Uh, hello?” He leans forward and waves his hand to trap her attention again.

“O-Oh, I-- … W-Wow. A human. Asking me questions. This is insane. I’m insane. I’ve officially lost my mind.” With her hooves, she plays with the drooping locks of hair on the sides of her head to calm herself. Her eyes constantly shift from Crimson to something else, finding it difficult to focus them on just one thing.

The man himself realizes how hard it is not to admire her shining orbs, how they reflect the amber light of her lamp in her room so gorgeously.

“… Okay!” she exclaims. “Okay. Answers. To the questions. You just asked me. Ehehehe…” The mare clears her throat, still very hesitant. “... Y-You’re... in my home. I'm... Moonlight Wish. You’re here as a gift from Celestia... even though I didn't actually... ask for one. She knows I've had brief interest in humans, so she sent one to me. And you are supposed to be my... research pet. I think.”

“…" Crimson's brows furrow to the top of his eyes. "... What?"

Moonlight adjusts her black, thick glasses. “You’re… um... you’re in my home, on the outskirts of Baltimare. And you're here because... a-according to Celestia, you're my-- ... um..." Moonlight's eyes expand upon internalizing what she is saying.

“Girl, I ain't nobody's pet," he states sternly, pointing to the collar haphazardly on the floor. "The sooner you ponies can figure that the fuck out, the better off we'll be." Moonlight's mouth opens to speak, but her lips are quivering together frantically. A face-painting blush covers her nose and cheeks, giving them a pink glisten.

She looks so pathetic right now, frozen like a deer in headlights for the second time.

Crimson gazes at her, at her pitiful form, and quickly loses the anger and hate he was just feeling. With a remorseful sigh, he leans back, resting against the bed's headboard. Judging by her demeanor and her episodes of realization, it is clear that she hardly has any idea what is going on, so lashing out at her will cause nothing but trouble. He comes to realize that, despite all circumstances, he is in her home, and there is no need to make her feel uncomfortable in her own home.

"... Listen... Moonlight. This is all real sudden and we're both at a loss. Is that fair to assume?" He gets a shy nod in response. "At this rate, I don't think anything'll get done. What do you say we start over? As individuals, not property. I'm sure you ain't meanin' any wrong, and I'd like to get to know you since, well... I suppose we're in this shit together now."

Moonlight's perky blush does not leave her face and she continues twiddling her mane. She appears to shrink away from his proposition with her trepid body langauge. “I-I'm... n-not all that interesting..." Her voice comes out timidly, unsure, and awkward.

Now that the dust is settling after the whole 'the human can talk' ordeal, Crimson is quickly realizing what type of personality lies in front of him. Something about this drives him to press on. "You look interestin' to me. Feel like gettin' to know you would be a nice experience."

Her eyes shift towards him and away from him several times. "... R-Really?"

"Sure. Here, why don't I start. You can call me Crimson. What's yer name?"

"... I-I'm... M-Moonlight Wish.” Her eyes stop shifting once she decides to keep them away from him. Her horn glows with light pink magic. He sees it pick up the thrown collar from the floor. She clips it closed and ties the leash around it before gently setting it on her desk.

"... Sorry 'bout throwin' that at random."

"... I-It's okay, y-you... you didn't... break anything."

"I appreciate yer pardon."

The mare forces out a nod. She shifts her eyes to him once very briefly before looking away again. “... U-Um... Cr... Crimson?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"C-Can I… ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"... When you woke up, you shouted something. A genus of flower, I think?”

“Ah, yeah. Dahlia." He suddenly pauses - his eyes dilate to pricks. He remembers something very important that was told to him by the mare of the same name.

“Were you having a bad dream about... flowers?”

Crimson smirks halfheartedly, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. While briefly tempted to lie, he rightens his honesty for the poor little mare's sake. “… Nah, it wasn't about flowers. A pony. Her name’s Dahlia. Don't suppose you've heard of her?” Moonlight shakes her head, still keeping a wary expression. “Mm. Well, I was with her. She found me when I first woke up here in Equestria a few days back. She saved my life.”

“... This Dahlia pony... i-is she... apart of the Canterlot research team?"

"... Uh... no. I wouldn't say so."

"What does she do for a living?”

"She raids temples. Makes a living sellin’ the things she finds.”

Moonlight’s brows furrow, somewhat pushing away at her crippling timidity. "... She desecrates the burials of the dead. That is... not good." In some form of perhaps self-shame, she lets her eyes fall to the carpet below melancholically. "... I don’t think I would like her very much. There are much better ways to study lost belongings."

“She's certainly a unique type, but I reckon we ain't ones to judge. I recently lost touch with her after yer princess 'Celestia' had her guard group me into a mass of humans. I got tossed here with her voodoo not long after.”

“... You were separated from your friend because of... Celestia's selection?"

"Yeah. Dahlia 'n I came from Dodge Junction, on a trip to Canterlot to sell off somethin' we had. Like I said, Dahlia got stopped by them bastards with the armor and they separated us."

"The Royal Guard," she states in realization, ears falling onto her head. "Oh no. I-I’m very sorry that that happened, I didn't... I didn't mean for Celestia to... to...”

“Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault. As much as I wanted to help myself and Dahlia out of the circumstance, there wun't much I could do after they hit me with some sorta narcotic.”

Moonlight’s expression lights up with intrigue suddenly. “Y-You aren’t talking about the neutralizing potion, are you?”

“… I think so. It smelled like grass and it was in a little purple bottle. If knew what it was, I'd'a never let that happen. Slick fucks took advantage of their secret weapon, and now I'm here.”

“I'm-- ... I'm so sorry this has happened to you. If I could've known..."

"Like I said, no harm on yer end... but you seemed mighty interested in somethin'."

"W-Wuh?"

"The potion spray."

"Oh! Um..." She catches herself and calms down quickly. "I-I am. Indeed. In the potion and your experience. A... A human's experience, no less!"

"There we are," he says lithely. He notices that this intrigue is aiding in killing off her anxiety, so he decides to press further. "Now all you need is the question."

Her cheeks tint with dots of pink, forming as smile as she pushes her glasses farther up her muzzle with her hoof. "If-If you wouldn't mind, may I ask you on your experience with the potion?"

"Go ahead."

"Ooo!" She coos excitedly. "How did you feel? How long did it last? Do you remember anything? It's been one of my curiosities since I've begun examining humankind!”

Crimson mentally recoils from her suddenly energetic attitude, but he finds ease in accomplishing what he hoped to achieve. He then recalls what he went through, bringing his hand to the back of his head. "I, uh... can’t remember much. I do remember some things, but lots of it was a haze. I remember gettin’ sprayed, obviously. I remember the formation of human cattle. I was put in it after the guards took me away. I remember feelin’... hungry. Sleepy. And I remember the Celestia princess who took me in."

"When did its effects wear off? Do you remember?"

"It lasted all through out my time there in Canterlot. Several hours, maybe. It didn't stop until I woke up here. Surprised it didn't leave a hangover 'r somethin'. It was strong stuff."

"How riveting!" Moonlight shifts in her seat.

"I'd be excited too if I wasn't on the receiving end." He notes her thrilled demeanor immediately sober up at his toiling. "... But, guess that's not important. So, uh... what’s the deal with that Celestia pony? Is she the ruler of your country?” he asks in a discretely diverting manner.

“... Um... y-yes. She is. She was crowned princess not too long ago actually, only a few decades ago. Equestria has been doing well under her care. She's an incredibly powerful pony, but very she's very kind. Because of her great successes in such a short time, many historians label this era, 'The Golden Age.' On paper, it all sounds very promising. W-Why do you ask?”

"Just curious. The more I know about this place, the better. See, I don't actually belong here."

"You did say, 'when I first woke up here.' I was curious about what you meant by that."

He smiles slightly and subconsciously at her sharp recollection. "Yeah. I come from another world entirely. Since I reckon you're a fairly important person, I need to ask. If I go on about my time here in Equestria talkin', will that cause a ruckus?"

"Um... in what way, may I ask?"

"Like, eh... bein' taken into science lab and cut up type deal. I basically want to know: if I talk, will some superpower take me away 'n kill me."

"That's terrible! N-Nu-no! Not at all! Has somepony told you this?"

"Nah, just... wonderin', since I know humans don't talk here. Uh... there won't be a chance that you can, eh... 'make sure' that don't happen? Maybe let your Celestia know about me?"

"Yes! It'll be the very next thing I write to her about! I vow that you'll be safe from any surgeon's knife!"

Crimson smiles wryly. "Appreciate that."

"O-Of course. If, um, if you don't mind me asking... how did you come to Equestria to begin with?"

"I'm... not sure. But I'm lookin' to get back. Dahlia was actually tryin' to help me with that. I need to go find her so I can get back home.”

“... How are you so sure she was trying to help you?"

“’Cause I-- …” He halts himself. "... I... uhm..." Moonlight raises her left brow incredulously at him while he furrows in thought. "... Because she said so, I guess." She tilts her head, giving light to the obvious naivety. "Sheesh, make yer stance more obvious, girl."

"Mh, nh," Moonlight squirms at his prodding. "I don't mean to sound so crude, b-but I'm concerned for you. This pony steals from sacred sites without a second thought. Her life revolves around the next haul. Did you not anticipate the possibility that perhaps she was using you for some sort of monetary gain? How could it have been that she conveniently lead you to the human selection formation held specifically at a certain time on a specific day of the month?"

"But she didn't get paid for my capture. I was literally stolen from right under her. Those shitbirds took me from the blindside with that magic spritzer."

"... M-Maybe her plan backfired?"

Crimson squints at Moonlight, but his expression quickly softens and his gaze drops to the bed in thought. “… Now that I’m really gettin’ down to it, I was around Dahlia for the better part of a week 'n I didn't learn a single thing about her other than her name and what she looks like... despite me tryin' to get to know her.”

“That doesn't sound surprising.”

Crimson remains thoughtful, staring at the bed he is sitting on. Surprisingly, it is big enough to fit him comfortably.

“... Please, don't let me stop you," Moonlight suddenly begins, drawing his attention. "... You're a creature of sapience. You can think and speak, act and rationalize... therefore you do not... belong to me. It would be wrong of me to keep you. If... you want to leave to look for your friend, at any time at all... p... please don't let me stop you."

The displeasure in her voice rackets Crimson's thoughts. The emotions dripping from her muse are plain to see. "... Think it might be for the best," the man states, keeping his gaze on her. These words cause her to visibly deflate further. He lines his lips at this, wondering if she is truly taking this to heart.

After some silence, he speaks up to ask, "Moonlight?"

She raises her eyes to stare at him, mouth puckered in timidity. "Y-Yes? Crimson?"

"... Do you live here all by yourself?"

The question is quick to incite a frown and her ears flop onto her head. She nods twice.

“Hmh," he hums in understanding. He looks around at the house he now resides in. It is comfortable, the air temperature is regulated artificially, and the mare herself strikes him as humble. Part of him wants to take off and trudge through unmapped lands to find Dahlia again, but it is turning to dust in the wind, he thinks. "... I don’t even know where’d I go if I left,” he considers aloud. “This world's pretty big, and I'm just one man. The last thing I'd want do to is waste myself being lost. Hate to start from the beginnin' even though I just started, but..." He looks to the trepid mare. "... Think we can scratch each other's backs?”

"S-Scratch?"

"Yeah. You give me the help I need to find a way back home, and I'll... be yer test dummy. Since you're interested in humans 'n such."

Moonlights expression lights up almost immediately. "I-Is... is that what you really want?"

"If you don't mind, that is."

"... Y-You... want to... s-stay here with me?"

"If it ain't a bother. Maybe I can crash somewhere outside or in yer living room. Whatever's best fer you."

"N-Not outside! Please, you're welcome t-to stay... h-here... inside..." She shies away the more she pushes her words out. "... W-With me..."

"Well that's mighty kind of you, miss Wish."

"P-Please, just... M-Moonlight."

"Right. Moonlight. I know I don't need to say this, but just in case... I promise I won't hurt you. Since humans don't got the nicest reputation."

"N-No, it's okay, I... I feel like you won't. You... um... seem like... a nice person."

"I can say the same about you. Reckon we'll have a lot to gain by workin' together."

"Mm!" she hums happily. "A-Again, I'm very sorry for all the trouble caused to you, but I will do my best to try and make amends."

"Thanks, Moonlight. I appreciate yer sincerity. It's also good to see you feelin' a little better now. I was worried you'd have a stroke earlier.”

"I-I'm sorry...”

He chuckles heartily at her unnecessary apology. "C'mon, girl, no need to say sorry."

“… A-And that. Your... expressions. They… they’re something to get used to.”

“Oh.” He drops his face, forcing it to return to its stagnant nature. "Pardon."

"I-I," she starts rather hastily after he dumbs his face, "I never said it was a bad thing. I... f-find it... quite charming."

Crimson smiles again, unintentionally, due to the sudden compliment.

Acting as if she did not say something fairly brash, she skips as quickly as possible over it. “I-I! Um! I think I may have a logical explanation as to why you're here, in Equestria!”

Crimson raises his brows, waiting for her to continue.

"Y-You see, I’ve been catching readings of anomalies, magical and otherwise, suddenly appearing all over Equestria. They’ve started to show only a few days ago. Reports have been coming in that these anomalies are possibly corrupting and altering pieces of the land. Even animals. Trees suddenly die or grow to enormous size. Animals become extremely vicious or mutated. And the worst of it all, we don’t know where it’s coming from.”

Crimson looks confused, sitting up from the headboard and scooting over to sit along the edge of the bed, effectively getting closer to Moonlight. A strange appliance on Moonlight’s desk, just next to her rocking chair, suddenly starts up. It looks like a box with a green LED line, where the line is squabbling up and down, along with the box emitting a strange wailing sound.

Witi-witi-witi-witi-witi-witi!

“What the heck is that?” he asks as he gawks at it.

"T-That’s my Analogous Net Accurator. Or ANA. I-I built her myself! She’s the reason I’m able to detect anomalies. Apparently she’s detecting something, and very close by.”

“… Me, maybe?”

“Most likely. I had programmed her to acknowledge you already, but maybe I need to adjust the acknowledgement class. I-If it's not too much to ask, may you please try moving closer to it?”

"Sure thing." He kicks his feet off the side of the bed, standing up while rubbing his left temple. Moonlight watches the lumbering man stand. His height causes her to become a bit timid again. He walks over to the beeping device, and it goes haywire as he approaches it, emitting an annoyingly loud whine. “Figures.”

“Indeed. That’s what I was getting to. I am to believe that your existence came from these magical anomalies that started appearing.”

“I don’t think I can agree with your hypothesis, professor Wish.” Moonlight’s mouth forms a small ‘o’, looking at him in wonder. “Like I've said before, I wasn’t any sort of human from this land that was ‘mutated.’ I know that for a fact. I still have memories from my home. My real home. I woke up here like a week ago. Most of it spent running about with Dahlia."

“But that wouldn't eliminate the possibility that these magical anomalies could have dragged you from your world, via wormhole or the likes."

"... Hmh." Crimson thinks deeply on her proposition, finding soundness in her argument. The two fall into silence while the ANA device wails loudly. Moonlight's horn begins to glow, encasing a number of dials and buttons on the ANA with her magic. With a few turns and presses, it ceases its yammering. “… This is one crazy contraption you got right here. Reckon y’all have potent electricity.”

“The major cities do, and the city near by my home, Baltimare, was actually one of the first to receive it. It’s a rapidly expanding field! Great for jobs and general welfare!” She smiles. “And you? Does your land have electricity?”

“Just the rich who can afford it. Them fancy light bulbs don’t seem like a convenient replacement." He gestures at the lamp that is currently illuminating the room. "Good ol’ oil lantern won’t ever let’cha down.”

“Mm. Replacement is a stretch, maybe they can work in unison? Lightbulbs for the home, lanterns for the outside.”

The room falls into another moment of silence, this time without the aid of the loud machine. Crimson's quiet contemplation causes Moonlight to subject herself to awkward tension. She is mistaking the lack of constant conversation for social ineptitude, and she shuffles slightly in her recliner, avoiding any sort of eye-contact.

Crimson glances at her, noticing that she has been doing that quite a lot. The body language this mare presents tells of social anxiety. It's undeniable, with how her nervous adjusting of glasses and playing with her mane, that she's not the most outgoing pony - a complete polar opposite to the tan pegasus that he was acquainted with. “So,” Crimson starts, “what kind’a experiments were you plannin’ on puttin’ me through?”

“Oh!" she exclaims, obviously unprepared for such a question. "Uuh... I-I don't know!"

"C'mon, now, you ain't no liar. What experiments?"

Read at the cover, she caves in and lines her lips. "... I was going to run tests on you... t-they're practical tests.”

“I like practical. Hopefully these tests serve a purpose fer you, though I ain’t sure what good it’ll do since I’m not a human from this land. I won’t be able to give any data valuable to yer 'human research' cause that'll fit your current criteria."

“That’s fine! I-I’m just super curious, about, well, you, and what you can do! You are very interesting. Much more interesting than the other humans I have experimented with!”

“I ain't your first test bunny?”

“N-No. Actually, I’ve experimented on all sorts of things, humans included. None of them were harmed! I make very sure that my test subjects are safe and healthy... unlike some researchers I know."

"Sounds like you've got a grudge."

"... I don't hold grudges, I just... don't condone the methods used by some of the members from the Royal Research team."

"That's the second time you've mentioned the 'royals.' You familiar with Canterlot?"

"... Y-Yes, but right now, is it okay if we focused on you?"

“That's fine.” Crimson looks out the circular window that lies above the bed's headboard. “The sun’s startin’ to go down. Do we have time for an experiment?”

“Yes! Yes we do! A rather simple one, it won’t take longer than a few minutes! Please, follow me!” Moonlight hops off the rocking chair enthusiastically, trotting quickly to the door, and Crimson follows behind her.

As she leads him through the house, he sees that this place is rather nice. It is very modern, to a much greater extent than he has ever seen. The second floor is carpeted all around. The home is lit by nightlights plugged into wall sockets that give off a sleepy blue color. There are not any lanterns, candles, or any other sort of primitive lighting found anywhere, making the lantern he saw earlier stand out greatly.

Moonlight leads him down a staircase, indicating a two-story house. Once downstairs, Moonlight turns and walks through a tile hallway, where her hooves clop against the tile in such an entrancing manner. She continues through a carpeted living room, towards a glass sliding door that leads to the backyard. They both take the door and step out to the grassy, incredibly spacious backyard.

The yard is filled with all sorts of fruit trees, flowers, rock designs, and wooden carvings. There’s even a small garden at the far end that has a stream of water flowing through it. Tall cement walls lined with vines and flowers give the spacious backyard seclusion and privacy.

“… Your own little piece of paradise, huh?” Crimson asks.

"It is,” she admits with a small smile.

“You tend to all of this yourself?”

“Y-Yes, I do."

Crimson's head turns left and right, taking the majesty of nature in. He sighs, satisfied and relaxed with his surroundings. “Right, so where’s this test?”

“Right over here!” she calls as she trots towards a line of rocks. The line contains ten rocks, all of varying size, lined up from smallest to the left, largest to the right. “This is a strength test. Fairly simple and straight forward.”

“Mm, alright.” Crimson smiles, liking the idea.

“The rocks are weighted in pounds. They’re marked with their respective weight!”

Crimson looks at the rocks. Indeed, marked with red chalk, there are the numbers: 15, 35, 52, 80, 122, 209, 300, 404, 523, and 631. Small rocks to huge boulders. Moonlight brings a piece of parchment and a quill into her magic from a small cubby box that’s sitting next to a picnic table.

“Start whenever you’re ready!” Moonlight nearly hops in anticipation.

Crimson looks towards the smallest rock first. He steps over it and faces it. This way, he can look at Moonlight and lift the rock at the same time. He crouches down, picking up the 15lb rock with one hand.

“Great!” She writes something down on her parchment.

“So… what’s the heaviest that’s been lifted?”

“The heaviest rock lifted by a human thus far has been two-o-nine. It was very impressive.”

He nods in acknowledgement. He proceeds to the next rock after setting the first one down. He crouches, picking up the 35lb rock with ease as well. Moonlight keeps that adorable smile on her face the whole time. He finds it sort of encouraging.

He sets the rock down, stepping to the next one. He lifts the 52lb rock with a little bit of effort and proper form.

“Excellent!” Moonlight exclaims.

He then moves to the next rock. He crouches, grasping it with both hands. With a grunt, he gets the 122lb rock off the ground.

“Very impressive!” Moonlight calls. "You make it look so easy!"

He drops the rock, letting out a breath. He moves to the next one, giving it a good stare-down. This rock is nearly the size of a person.

With a determined look, he crouches down, gripping the rock. “Hrrh!” he heaves, lifting the rock with great effort. It takes him a second to stand upright with it, but he succeeds as he holds the 209lb rock against his chest.

“Woo! Iiimpressive!” she cheers, giggling to herself.

Crimson lets the rock plummet back onto the dirt, exhaling with a smile. "These rocks'r heavy as hell. Who even got 'em here, all lined up like this?"

"... That's, um..." Moonlight shifts her eyes left and right, "... n-not important?"

Crimson shrugs and smirks, stepping to the next rock. The massive rocks. The big boy rocks. The rocks that take several men to lift.

“Please don’t hurt yourself,” Moonlight speaks sincerely, adjusting her glasses with mild worry.

Crimson crouches down, gripping the massive 300lb rock. He breathes in. And breathes out. Breathes in… “HRPH!” he heaves, getting the rock up off the ground a few inches. “RRPH-- RRH…” His whole body begins to tremble, stuck at the lift-off.

“R-Remember not to strain yourself! Drop it if you can’t!” Moonlight says with growing concern.

“MMRRR!” He continues to tremble. He starts to raise the rock now, inch by inch, but his whole body quakes worse as he exerts himself further.

Moonlight’s mouth opens in surprise as she witnesses this man lifting a rock half his size. “You almost got it! Come on, Crimson! You can do it!"

He almost has it. He knows he has it. He's lifted more than this before. "Why is it so damn difficult now!? I know I can do this! I got it in me!"

But then, he doesn't. His eyes start to close. Moonlight’s cheering turns to a terrified gasp, and her ears drop down onto her head.
‎

“Momma? Why is Vigil not home yet?”

- "You feel it inside of you, don't you? ... Embrace it. Love it. It's apart of you. It's your gift. Use it to make the world a better place, just as Cobalt and Vigil did."

-- "For your life... I'll give my own."

--- "WE'RE COMIN' FOR YA', YA SONNOVA BITCH!"
‎

“RRKH!” Crimson fails to get the rock up at the final stretch, nearly dropping it onto his feet. He stumbles back, falling onto his rear, breathing heavily and panting to catch his breath. His vision blacks out into a narrow tunnel, but as blood and oxygen flow as normal again, his vision restores.

He worries not for his health, but his concern is stuck on the fragments of his memory that suddenly returned to him, just as it had days before when Dahlia was in trouble.

“Crimson!?” Moonlight says as she rushes to his side. “A-Are you okay? I told you not to overdo yourself!”

“Mgh… y-yeah. I’m fine. Just… a little dizzy.”

“Crimson, your eyes! What is this? I’ve never seen something like this before!”

“My… eyes?” he asks in between breaths.

Moonlight's wild excitement turns to a massive frown. “It stopped! Your eyes! They were glowing such a very luminescent golden color! B-But they're not anymore! What is that?”

“... I’m gonna be honest with you, Moonlight, I don’t know what you’re talking about… but Dahlia had said the same thing before. I reckon it ain’t just a coincidence.”

“It couldn’t be, I JUST saw it! It was amazing! When they started glowing, you started lifting the rock higher and higher!”

“… I also started hearin’ voices, like if pieces of my memory came back to me. Me when I was younger, my mom, me again, then... Michael.”

"... Michael?" Moonlight lowers her head, witnessing anger fixate itself on his face.

Crimson catches himself letting bitterness overtake his expression. He eases himself out and looks solemnly to Moonlight. "Don't... worry about that. I'm not sure what's causin' memories to come back to me."

“I wish I had an answer. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Just..." He trails off, looking down at the grass under him bitterly.

"… Maybe we should go back inside. We’ve done enough for today,” Moonlight says as she begins to roll up her parchment.

Crimson rises to his feet. “No.”

Moonlight freezes.

“I’m gonna lift that rock. And I’mma lift it all the way up this time.”

“N-No! You can’t! You’re going to seriously hurt yourself if you try it again so soon! Let’s just do it tomorrow—”

Crimson stands before the massive rock that triumphed over him. He stares at it, still breathing in and out deeply.

"Oooh, he’s not going to listen to me!" Moonlight cries in her head.

He crouches down, grasping the rock once more. “HRGH!” He grits his teeth. Just as before, he lifts the rock a few inches off the ground, coming to a halt just after. “RRK—NRGH!” His entire body trembles as his muscles flex their hardest. Slowly, inch after inch, it rises...
‎

“WOOOWIEE! TIME TO STOMP YOU OUT, BOY!”

- “You better not leave her behind, James.”

-- "... Crimson. I miss you..."
‎

His senses feel unnaturally attuned. Time itself seems to slow to a crawl. His eyes dart to Moonlight, admiring her terrified yet reverent expression. It is like she is holding completely still, as to allow him to take in her finer details.

He looks down at the rock again. Suddenly, hands come from under his peripheral vision. It startles him briefly, drawing his attention. These hands, made of pure ethereal golden energy, rise until they grasp the boulder. His eyes trail along these hands, which are attached to arms, which are then attached to a body. Bewilderment takes him when a visage of semi-translucent gold appears from nothing, standing before him to assist him in lifting the rock. His struggling comes to an abrupt end, as if a wind of reprise passed through his whole body.

Upon further scrutiny, this visage… is him. A silhouette of light in his image.

With the conjoined strength of him and himself, the rock is lifted high into the air, above and over his head. Just then, time resumes as normal to him, and he hears an exasperated gasp come from the mare who watches.

He holds the rock in the air, his facial expression appearing as shocked as Moonlight's. The visage is nowhere to be found - perhaps an illusion in his own mind. A few seconds pass before he realizes he needs to set the rock down and calm the vibrating unicorn.

In one motion, he tosses the rock up a few feet and dashes forwards, allowing the immense chunk of earth to slam into the ground and burrow itself a few inches behind him.

Crimson spins around and remains still for several seconds, simply staring at the boulder. What he just witnessed almost scares him. He feels a distant beckoning – a call of sorts. He wishes to answer it, but…

... Moonlight stares up at him, heart beating in her ears, venerating the golden magma which flows in the man’s eyes. When he turns his attention from the boulder to her, her chest tightens. She looks about ready to faint.

Crimson simpers wryly and crouches down to tend to the unsteady mare. He brazenly reaches his pointer finger to move a wry strand of her mane out of her face. This action serves well to ground her back to reality. She ogles how his eyes fade back to their original hazel selves in real time. “Trust me when I say,” the man begins, “I've done surprised myself.”

“W-Wah…” Her incoherent stammer is all she can muster. Silence falls between them, Moonlight with her mouth slightly agape from awe and Crimson holding his shy smile.

Emotions quiet down. The ambience of the garden around them takes hold… including a sound that does not quite fit the environment. It sounds like…

Witi-witi-witi-witi-witi-witi!

The duo both look towards the house. The sound is coming from inside. Moonlight realizes what it is far before Crimson does. “The ANA,” she murmurs to herself aloud.

“Don’t think she’s happy.” He rises to his full height. “C’mon, let’s go see what she wants.”

Moonlight agrees with the nodding of her head. They both return to the house through the sliding door and move upstairs to her bedroom. Pushing open the door all the way from its ajar position causes the incessant wining of the machine to increase in volume.

Moonlight is quick to trot to it and press a yellow button on the left side of the face. She analyzes the screen on it, seeing the green line break apart into several different lines of many colors. She then looks to Crimson, visibly hoping for him to provide some form of input. What she sees causes her eyes to widen in great worry.

“C-Crimson... are you okay?” she asks, seeing the man blankly staring forward with drooping eyelids, gently swaying, appearing as if he fell asleep standing up. “Crimson?” She walks up to him, keep her eyes fixed on his. “Crimson, please, say something.” Nothing comes as a response to her plead. “Mmh, mmn,” she squirms uncomfortably, looking around as if to find an answer written on the wall or ceiling. She looks back up to him, biting her lip. “L-Let’s lay you down. Is that okay?” Still nothing. “… I hope it's okay. Please be okay.”

Clenching her teeth, she channels her magic to gently take his hand. She begins to walk toward the bed, and to her relief, he walks with the gentle tugs of her ethereal hold. She ushers him to the bed and ballets him with his hand in a one-eighty so he turns around. She presents herself at his front before she hops onto her hindlegs and softly pushes his abdomen so he sits back onto the bed.

He does as she wills, right until he sits down. At his rear resting on the sheets, his eyes lull upwards and his upper body falls back.

Moonlight gasps, quickly climbing onto the bed to look at his face. “Crimson! Please tell me you're okay! Please, tell me you're--! ..." She stops, listening to the cadence of his paced breathing. "... You're... asleep?"

Her stress simmers slowly at watching him rest. He looks very peaceful, no signs of struggle or breathing issues. With great trepidation, she lowers her head to his chest and places her ear on it. A healthy heart beat.

Confusion replaces her worry. She could not know what happened, how he was able to suddenly lift that rock so high up without issue or struggle. And his eyes… that hauntingly radiant glow.

She comes away from him and climbs off the bed. She sits on the sofa chair and huffs stress out of her nose. She quietly and idly watches him. With many questions in her head, all she hopes is that some of them may be answered once he wakes.

She remains on the chair, stuck in her own mind, until the calling of sleep pulls her away.

‎
‎

‎

~ ???, ??? ~<

‎
‎

“Nh!?” Crimson’s eyes bust open sporadically. His eyes shift small distances. From one instant to the next, he seems to have… relocated. Teleported, almost. The last thing he recalls is honing in on the beckoning call that was tugging him so fiercely while walking up the staircase to Moonlight's room.

To his surprise, he feels at peace. Relatively. He swears he can hear music - stringed instruments quietly strum over a distant, ethereal choir... yet no one is around to play or sing.

He stares into the sky, he thinks. It does not look very much like the sky he knows. The atmosphere above him is grey, and it looks like a storm is forming. It swirls as if the sky itself was a large, slowly churning hurricane.

He feels grass under him, running his fingers along the greenery. He turns his head left, resting it against the grass... which is not green at all. In fact, nothing around him is of any color.

He sits up, taking in his surroundings. He finds himself in a field that seems to expand infinitely, with a few trees and flowers amongst the grassy hills, but it is all grey, all sorts of different shades of grey. It is all meshed together to make a beautiful grey-scale world.

Crimson squints in disbelief, uttering unintentionally, “... Where…”

“I was wonderin’ where you went.”

He hears an oddly familiar voice. His own voice. Crimson turns his head towards the speaker, and there, sitting next to him, he sees himself. He was not there before, yet he casually smiles as if he was always there.

"Welcome back."

《 The Arch Angel 》

"Sapience, a blessing and a curse.

Sapience is what distinguishes animals from rulers. Ever since time began its eternal venture forward, creatures of all kinds roamed. They struggled and survived amongst each other, where the strong and adapted would trudge forward and the weak would perish.

The survivors continue to survive, they thrive, and they expand. They lead their pointless lives until a stronger, more powerful force puts an end to their existence. One comes to realize, it is not enough to survive, it is not enough to thrive... you must evolve. You must conquer. You must be able to punish those who oppose you.

Or maybe not. What, then, would be the opposite of mindless conquering? Unity.

You see it, time and time again. You watch them. Sapient creatures start from nothing, but build themselves empires. Communities are built upon unity, and united, cities form, countries are founded, and worlds are established. But who governs them? Who are the leaders of these united colonies? It is the creatures of sapience, of course. They rule over one another.

This begs a question: does it matter how a colony is ruled?

“Democracy!” calls the creature of independence.

“Socialism!” shouts the creature of equality.

“Communism! With an iron fist!” cries the creature of great power.

Perhaps another choice. Which answer is correct?

You see it, time and time again. You watch them.

At last, the creatures of sapience have founded their kingdoms. They have survived, they have thrived, they have evolved. These creatures seek to evolve even more now. They seek to expand their borders, strengthen their militaries, and spread their customs of life.

Inherently, this is not an evil goal. Every community, every colony, every kingdom - they all wish to expand, to strengthen, to spread. It is in the nature of these creatures to have conflicting paths. One kingdom differs from another. Their ways of life may not coincide.

Conflict resolution is derived from unity. Words and gifts may solve many of a kingdom's problems. But if they do not? What occurs when the sword is stronger than the pen?

You see it, time and time again. You watch them.

Thriving communities and established colonies all succumb to an inevitable end: destruction. Kings, dictators, presidents and the like - unity fails. The key to survival falters. Conflicting ideals and opinions push unity away, causing the pillar of survival to crumble. This cycle has, and will, continue for as long as time will move forward. It cannot be changed. It is simply the condition of existence.

You see it, time and time again. You watch them.

Complete destruction. The creatures of sapience use the elements of the world which provided them life to destroy it. Chemical warfare and advanced weaponry marks the death of every innocent plant and animal once taking residence in now barren land.

The creatures of sapience all fall to the same fate. In their arrogance, they destroy everything that was beautiful. They destroy everything that was good.

Rise now. Rise to the Weave with me. Look up to the heavens, and now past them.

Behold, this is the place between places. The space that exists nowhere, but everywhere. The place where even time dares not to tick.

Look. You see them, do you not? Those glimmering lines that expand infinitely forward. An infinite number of timelines. An infinite number of worlds and creatures.

Every single string is attached to the same beginning, called the root, but branch off to vast, innumerable universes. Now see, sets of strings are massed together to form clusters. Each cluster in the Weave contains up to thousands, even millions of timelines. They are all different from each other, but only marginally. The further you move away from a single string, you will see many more alterations in the path neighboring strings have taken. Every single string leads their own path as they all separate from one another, hoping that their unique direction will continue to stretch forever.

Ah, I see your string. … Can you see it?

When the root of a string stands on the border of destruction, any potential lives and future existences are destroyed. For every ruined string, an entire cluster can potentially snap. It would not take long for creatures of sapience to drive an entire cluster of universes into extinction.

Creatures are born, creatures survive, creatures thrive, creatures evolve, creatures destroy. This is the circle of life. Does this mean that existence is futile? Every walk of life is born only to die, and fade into the void? Perhaps. But there is one outlying factor that sets foot upon a closing door.

This factor is none other than the guardians who watch from afar, that exist in and outside of time itself. I speak of beings made of light, of soul, and of essence. The Arch Angels.

Created by the Watcher, these beings from ancient times serve to protect the Weave. Arch Angels are born in special families, passed down through generations, purposed to defend their worlds with all that they can give.

Angels come in every form; they may come as quick, cunning, flying creatures. They may come as delicate, slow, loving creatures. They may even come as large, lumbering, strong creatures. Some on two legs, others on four legs, even six or eight.

Despite all of these differences, they are of the same essence, Arch, which flows through the blood and soul of every angel. An immaterial gift that functions physically and metaphysically, vast and potent.

An angel may choose to harness the energy of light to create a weapon. Others may stare into the soul of another creature, revealing their true nature and character without uttering a word. Some angels may tend to wounds, using themselves as a sacrifice. Other angels may convert a fistful of sand into golden flakes.

Arch functions at the molecular level, modifying and codifying the very building-blocks of the life to perform everything and anything that can be imagined. The imagination runs free, and the only limit to Arch is the Arch Angel wielding it, where their patience, discipline, and fortitude is tested. Not all angels are the same, and some are bound to use their gift more efficiently than others, where even some may never realize their gift at all.

Delving further into the essence these angels come with, we find attunements that dictate what their Arch will be capable of performing best. There are two categories: the attunement of Body, and the attunement of Soul.

You will find many Arch Angels with their attunement of Body fighting battles. Angels of Body are commonly taller, faster, and stronger than their own kind, and their physical prowess is customarily unmatched. These powerful spirit-warriors stand at the front-line to keep their worlds safe from tangible and intangible threats. They stand against the corruption around them with their shields raised.

You will find Arch Angels with their attunement of Soul standing beside you, and many a-time, you will hardly distinguish them from other people. They can be your neighbor, your friend, or maybe even your cousin. Their physical catalyst, their body, does not display any overt clue that they are beings of supernatural ability, but one would be wise not to take this unassuming nature so lightly. These types of angels often stand alongside their people, living by them and protecting them from behind the curtain.

The task of saving a world is not a light one, no, even a seasoned Arch Angel will falter against the potency of evil if they are not cautious. It is not enough for an angel to be strong as an individual, but to be strong together with those that surround them.

Perhaps you wonder why I told you all of this. A fair question which requires a fair answer. Simple: now you understand, or were reminded, that the world requires balance, and the omniverse has tied upon itself peacekeepers to fulfill such as task. That is not to say that said peacekeepers are themselves perfect. Far beneath perfection.

There is such a thing as too much strength. No one being should be gifted so much potential, for it is a root cause of imbalance. Arch Angels are no exception. There are many reasons why a kingdom may fall, but I, just as my ancestors, will prevent such a catastrophe by gently tugging at the strings that need attention.

Keep in mind these words you've heard - they will prepare you for what is to come. The gaze from above falls upon the pawn on the stage."

Reunited

~ ???, ??? ~<

‎

Distant hums and melodies fill the air as the two men, reflections of one another, share a glance. The visage of Crimson smiles, starting sarcastically, "If it ain't little James 'Crimson' Sky."

"Ch," Crimson clicks a breath while sitting up. "Thought sayin' my own name was weird. It's worse when another you says it." He rubs his forehead anxiously. This other Crimson appears to be wearing the same exact attire that he typically wore back home - his working clothes: a grey shirt, grey slacks, black boots, brown belt, and brown duster. "... I heard... somethin'. A voice callin' me. I tried listenin' to it. Find where it was comin' from. ... Now I'm here."

"Suppose you are."

"The hell happened to me? The rock, the voices, the... just-- what happened? Who are you?" Crimson delivers his questions with visible distress.

"Easy, easy. Calm down. There ain't no rush."

Crimson keeps his right hand over his forehead, disgruntled and worried. "... I ain't dead, am I?"

The other Crimson chuckles. "Nah, nah, not even close. Man, you've really done 'n forget everything. Fine. Let me refresh yer memory." Crimson nods despondently, keeping his unsteady eyes on the manifestation of himself. "Who am I? You, obviously. But more specifically, I'm the you-est you you can be."

“… Huh?”

The other Crimson nods. "I know it don't make a lot of sense when I say it like that, but I'm basically the part of you that holds every unique aspect of yerself. Think of me like... like yer arm, if yer arm had its own personality. You control it, it's apart of you, but all the things you've done with it make it what it is. Your right arm. The one that swings the sword. Full-hearty 'n reckless. Your left arm. The one that holds the shield. Brave and faithful. Think of me like this. The embodiment of your full heart, your recklessness, your bravery and faith. Everythin'."

"That's..." He purses his lips, finding both understanding but also great confusion. "... But you're not... currently with me. Is that why you showed up to help me lift that rock?"

"You only helped yerself, partner."

"You sure are quaint."

"You certainly are."

Crimson looks forward, eyeing the monochromatic field of grass and hills before him. "I'm comin' to realize I remember everythin' that escaped me before. 'Me helpin' myself' was the solution to that. Don't suppose you know how that happened?"

"You should know."

"Well I don't. I didn't do nothin' particularly different other than try to lift that rock."

"Like I said, you should know. Maybe it'll make sense to you soon enough. The only thing I can say fer sure is that somethin' happened to us when we got dropped in Equestria. Somethin' unsavory."

"On that: how did we even end up there? Were we magically teleported or somethin'?"

"Ain't got a clue." The manifestation shrugs.

"Shiet." Crimson rubs his eyes before sighing deeply. "So, if I ain't dead, where am I?"

The other Crimson rises to his feet, lifting his chin proudly at all that is before him. “Welcome to the Rift. Or should I say, welcome back to the Rift. Our little slice of paradise. A place that doesn't exist, but it exists for us."

"... Like a dream?" Crimson stands up as well, standing shoulder to shoulder with his manifestation as he stares around at the greyscape.

"Maybe."

"... What do we do here?"

"Anythin', really. This place is what we make it." The manifestation glances to Crimson, seeing total awe upon his front. "... Great, ain't it?"

"... Yeah. Feels... so surreal here."

"Funny lookin' you drop your maw like this. This place is typical fer us. I assume that the Equestria situation warped yer memory 'r perception."

"... And you said, we can do 'anything' here?"

"Anything. Now I know you'll ask, so... I ain't too sure how it all works. Probably just one of those things that is but you never know why. I ain't complainin'. This place is a nice retreat when things get stressful in the waking world."

"Why's everythin' grey?"

"Jesus, I really am askin' the basics here."

"Just answer the damn question."

"Because we want it that way. Don't have to be grey. Like I said, we control this place, leaf by leaf, color by color."

"... Still don't answer why everythin's grey.”

"We are why. Viola is why. What’s our favorite color?"

"... Ah. Yeah. Grey. The blending in between is beautiful."

"'Ol family Sky ideology."

"Yeah. ... Egh, this is a lot to take in."

“For you 'n me both. I wish we had the answers, partner, but moseying around ain't gonna give 'em to us."

“I just... wanna understand why this happened all of a sudden. I was just liftin’ a rock.'"

"You and that damn rock. It wasn't the rock. It was yer resolve. Yer Arch was dormant, 'n yer will drew it out.”

Crimson's brows line the top of his eyes. “Arch. … That was one’a the words I heard in them whispers I kept hearing."

"Hm. You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you couldn’t remember much."

"And it’s bullshit. What happened to me? I ain’t had the time to sulk over it, but seriously. What the hell? I abandoned Viola, all to wind up in a god forsaken horse planet."

"Can’t tell you the how or why, but I can ease yer mind. Viola is fine. Completely fine. I know you’re missin’ a lot of pieces right now, but luckily fer you, I’m here to help you remember.”

Crimson lets his gaze fall and he sighs despondently, still very apparently stressed.

The visage smiles at him sympathetically, crossing his arms. "Listen, we ain't got all the answers, but look on the bright side. Michael's dead. He's dead and gone, and we've only got our entire lives ahead of us. Things happen that don't make sense, but that's life. Shit gets hard, but we're harder. We're good at tacklin' all that, and we'll keep doin' it too. We've made it this far, right?"

"... Right."

"And the best part? Viola is safe. Once we're done in Equestria and we figure out how the hell to get back home, we've got a life-time of happiness with her headed our way. Heck, even if we don't get the bliss we always wanted, wasn't she the only thing that really mattered? At the end of the day, no matter what happens to us, she'll be safe and she'll be able to live the life she always deserved."

Crimson's solemn face slowly shifts to passive contemplation. The gently swaying flora, blown from a non-existent wind, breathes easiness into his soul. "... I give good pep-talks."

"Hmh," the manifestation chuckles once. "C'mon. Reckon it’s time fer you to remember."

The manifestation turns and steps in front of himself. Once the mirrored pair stand facing each other, the manifestation lifts his hand and holds Crimson’s shoulder. They stare deeply into each other's eyes.

Crimson's vision flashes, causing him to stumble back and grip his head. His body trembles while memories flood back like a tidal wave. Memories of his father, brother, mother, and specific events tailored to his Arch.

After the two are reunited, the reality around him blurs and contorts briefly. He shakes his head, blinking his dizziness away and fixing his posture to stand up completely straight.

He looks around now, his eyes taking a droopy, lazy look. They passively glow, vibrant with an energy akin to golden magma swirling in his irises. His attire has now taken that of his soul, his working clothes, and like a gentle mist surrounding him, golden Arch dances around his form.

He feels her knocking in a distant plane, wanting to enter in his paradise. Crimson slowly closes his eyes, the world around him blackens as his eyelids fall.

"Huh!" she gasps suddenly.

Crimson reopens his eyes, seeing a girl standing inches away and facing him. Her one eye, uncovered by her jet black hair, glances around quickly in her awe. She finally rests her gaze on her brother, staring up to look at him. Her eye, usually cyan in color, glows golden just like her brother's. The tiny 'o' that is her mouth slowly widens as a smile replaces her shock.

"Hey, Vi," Crimson smiles back at her. Without a word, Viola moves in and hugs him tightly, gripping at the back of his duster coat as if hanging on for dear life. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," she murmurs against his chest quietly.

"... 'M sorry for suddenly leaving you... I really had no idea."

"It's okay," she replies simply, the tone of her voice remaining quiet and tender.

"... How's everythin' back home?" Crimson asks, tilting his head to get a better look at her face as she smothers it against him. One single tear forms at the corner of her tightly closed eye, trembling, until it finally runs down her cheek.

She does not reply to his question. Crimson's smile widens slightly, taking the hint and giving in to the moment. He embraces her just as fully as she holds him, and they remain together in silence.

A place where time has no meaning, where reality is his to shape: the Rift. Crimson remembers everything. He is happy to remember everything, even the worst parts of his past. He is happy to finally have his sister back with him, even just like this.

While in the Rift, an Arch Angel's body remains in the physical world, appearing as if they were simply asleep. Unfortunately, this means Viola is not there with him truly. Once she leaves Crimson's Rift, she will wake up alone once more.

The two siblings take all of the time in the multiverse to reconnect. Crimson tells Viola about the things he has seen, how he interprets them, and what he plans to do. He assures her that he will return to her soon, but Viola insists that he should take care of himself and understand what had caused him to suddenly relocate to the land of equines. There is something missing, and they both agree that they should figure it out before something like this happens again.

"... Are you sure that you'll be fine alone, Vi?" Crimson asks as he sits down on the grass with his sister, arm coupled around her to hold her against himself.

"I will... as long as you let me visit you every now and then."

"Of course I will. I'd do it even if the world tried to hold me back. Feel free to come and go from my Rift whenever you like... since I know you don't exactly like yours." He leans off of her slightly to give her a curious gaze. "You never really told me why you don't like your own Rift." Viola remains unspeaking, squishing her hands in between her thighs in reluctance. "... What's wrong with it?"

"... I've... never liked it."

"C'mon, Vi. There's gotta be somethin' about it in specific that you don't like. You can literally shape it however you want."

"... It doesn't have you in it."

"Is that really it? I could visit your Rift. Problem solved."

"But yours is better."

"What makes mine better? We can make them exactly the same if you'd like."

"... I like yours better because... it's yours."

Crimson snickers in submission. "Right, well, guess I can't argue with that."

The two couple together closely again, with Viola releasing a gentle sigh before uttering, “... do you need to leave soon?”

"Sadly. I wish I could take you with me. I ain't keen on the idea of havin' to leave you again.”

"... Crimson?"

"Mhm?"

"... Could you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"... Could you make our house here?"

Crimson gently squeezes her a bit tighter to reaffirm the embrace they share. "Only if you promise me that you won't stay here forever. I know I said you can be here as long as you like, but remember that you've still gotta live life on the other side."

"... I promise."

A brief silence passes between them. "... Look to your left."

Viola turns her head, glancing past her brother to see a single-floor home, made of wood and cinder block, perched in the middle of the grassy landscape as if it was always there. Her eye shimmers, looking back towards her brother with emotion welling in her heart.

Crimson smiles down at her, leaning in to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Stay safe for me, Vi."

Viola nods solemnly, closing her eyes and wiping a tear before it manages to run. The warmth around her vanishes, and when she reopens her eyes, the red-haired man is nowhere to be found.

‎

‎

~ Equestria, Moonlight's Home ~<
January 29th, Friday, 20:58

‎

Crimson's world churns back to tangibility, as if feeling the reverse state of being drugged. His eyes slowly creak open to stare at a ceiling, Moonlight’s ceiling. He shifts his hazel orbs around to see he was set back on her bed. The lamp is still on.

There is only one sound to be heard, and it's the gentle breathing coming from someone to his right. He sits up slowly, grunting while glancing towards the sound. His face lights up in amusement as he sees Moonlight asleep on her desk next to her ANA device. He notices broken quills and crumbled up parchment all over her work station. He then rests his gaze on the sleeping mare. Her glasses are nearly falling off of her muzzle while she rests her cheek against the table.

He is tempted to wake her and get her to bed, but he figures she should be left alone. He is not certain of her sleeping habits. Instead, he takes this opportunity to step back outside. He removes the soft, comfortable blankets that cover him and he stands up. His vision swirls for a moment, forcing him to stand still for three seconds before moving again. Once reality fixes itself, he makes a path out of Moonlight's room, being as quiet as possible. He heads downstairs and exits the glass sliding door, entering the backyard.

The sounds of the night fill the air. Crickets chirp, leaves rustle in the calm breeze, and wind chimes jingle near the sliding door.

The moon is much larger in Equestria compared to Earth. He looks up at it, smiling slightly and waving his hand to the moon.

After a moment with the moon, his smile fades, replaced by his resting face as he turns himself around to face his nemesis, the rock line. He stomps over, standing begrudgingly before the smallest rock.

He crouches down and picks it up, holding it with one hand while examining it. Just a boring plain old rock, one with countless stories to tell.

He sets it down, moving to the next rock. He repeats the process, along with the next rock, and the next one. He lifts every rock with ease, now standing before the 209lb rock. He squats down, grips it, and rises with it. It is as if the rock was a hundred times lighter. He sets it down carefully, moving to the next rock.

He now looms over the 300lb rock. He eyes it lazily.

He crouches down, gripping it into both hands. His eyes begin to glow a soft, golden color, which shine methodically in the tired night. He rises, lifting the rock up and holding it against his chest with little effort. He holds it for a few seconds, then he crouches back down, setting it on the grass before letting out a sigh.

Crimson finds himself staring at the 300lb rock, smiling at it as if it had just complimented him.

“Crimson?” asks Moonlight from behind him.

He turns his head, looking over to the sleepy-eye pony just now entering the backyard from the sliding door. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

She shakes her head, taking off her glasses with her magic, rubbing her eyes with her hoof. “No, it’s okay. I was just closing my eyes. I heard you get up from the bed. … I’m amazed that you’re up.” Her worried eyes scrutinize the man. In turn, he gazes at her. Her well-maintained self, accompanied by the deep blue color of her coat, shines wonderfully under the moonlight. “I-Is… everything... okay?”

“Just fine, girly. Thanks for helpin' me back to bed."

She blushes lightly, realizing that maybe he was somewhat conscious when she guided him to the bed. "Y... You're welcome. I… y-you… you really are something."

The man tilts his head, holding his simper curiously.

"When Celestia told me that she was going to send me something special, I really didn’t expect... this.”

He snickers. "To be fair, I don't think she knew what she was sendin' you." He turns around, walking towards the 300lb rock again.

Moonlight furrows her brows. “… What are you doing?”

He vaults over the rock and turns around, facing Moonlight. He crouches down, grasping it with both hands.

Moonlight gasps. “W-What? Wait! No! Not this again!”

Crimson takes in a deep breath and closes his eyes. He raises the rock without a hint of struggle, holding it against his barren chest.

Moonlight's pupils slowly expand in awe. Crimson’s own eyes come open, revealing their glowing nature. Moonlight ogles them and whispers, “Your eyes..."

He crouches back down, setting the rock back in its place. His orbs cease their glowing, slowly fading into their regular hazel selves.

“That was… so effortless," Moonlight utters breathlessly as she walks closer to him. “That-- I… I have so many questions, Crimson.”

He smiles at her as she stares at him with mixture of stun and adore. "I'd bet."

“Human… magic?” This realization strikes her like a stone. Her irises gleam with excitement. “That's it! Human magic!"

"Mm?"

"This is incredible! I was trying to figure out what was happening to you ALL night! But nothing was working! Every hypothesis failed. Every path lead to a dead end. Every smidgen of data was worthless!”

“I ain’t sure it’s ‘magic.’"

“Oh? ... Um... if not magic… then what is it?”

“The name for it is Arch."

“Ark?” Moonlight dubiously repeats. “Like the large transportation boat?”

Crimson shakes his head. “Pronounced like that, but spelt differently.”

“… A. R. C. H?”

"Bingo."

“How… peculiar. Did you come up with this name yourself?"

“Nah. My dad told me what it was called. He knew a lot more about it than I do, but he didn’t pass on much about. Probably on purpose. I’ll try to explain everythin’ as best as I can, but I never learned the formalities of it.”

“That's terrible! How could you not take the time to learn about something so important to you?"

"There aren't exactly any books that tell me how to use my Arch, Moonlight. As far as I know, I'm the only one of my kind... and, eh... besides. It's a little personal, but I'd rather not use it."

"Oh... I see." Moonlight's lowers her head and her eyes fall to the ground. "P-Please excuse my rudeness. I had no idea there was something underlying."

“It's okay, Moonlight. The simplest way to put it is, I'd rather not use it if I don't have to. Felt like it's done me more bad than good."

"... I understand."

"And that's appreciated. There’s somethin’ I actually wanted to talk to you about." Her pink orbs lift from the ground up to his wonderingly. "It has to do with them magical anomalies that you’ve been readin’.”

“Wh-What about them?” She fixes her glasses with her hoof.

Crimson walks over to the picnic table that sits near the rock line. He takes a seat backwards, resting his elbows on the table. Moonlight follows his lead and sits down next to him.

“These anomalies," the man continues. "You said they started appearin’ about a week ago?”

“Indeed. I originally built my ANA device to study magic on enchanted objects, but it somehow started picking up foreign readings like crazy. I wrote many letters to pen pals all over Equestria to see if any of them were experiencing any strange or anomalous magic in the field. They all came back with positives, but none of them were sure what the cause was. They only saw the environmental corruption I was telling you about earlier. I wrote to them recently to see if they’ve been able to contain or remove the corruption, but I am... still waiting for their replies." She pouts. “I remember you telling me you arrived here about a week ago as well. I'm still assuming that the anomalies may have pulled you from another world or something along those lines. Does that sound crazy?"

Crimson shakes his head, reaching over and gently patting Moonlight on hers. “Not at all. In fact, you've got a real knack for makin' sense.” Moonlight moves her gaze away, adjusting her glasses again with a shy simper. Crimson's front sobers up until it takes a stern look of contemplation. “Gotta feelin' somethin’ needs to be done about them. I ain't sure that I'm a special case, but if I'm not, and that magic crap's suckin' in things from other worlds, we've got a huge deal on our hands. It’s spreadin’, right?”

Moonlight fixes her mane and nods. “From what my fellow researchers said, it is either spreading or relocating somehow. It's not certain which one it is yet. There’s still so much we don’t know about it yet.”

“Well, how’s about some good ol’ on-field research?”

“You mean go out… and travel?” she asks with skepticism, to which he nods. “… B-But it’s dangerous out there. I-I prefer staying. Here. In the comfort of my home, and…” Moonlight trails off as she sees Crimson’s unenthused self gawking at her.

The man takes on a gentle smile. “I know a thing or two ‘bout tusslin’, so you’ll have me to protect you. I know we don’t know much about each other yet, but I’ll do everythin’ I can to keep you safe if things get rough. Swear on it."

Moonlight’s ears drop to her head and she looks away again.

"... Moonlight?" He leans towards her slightly. "... You don't trust me, do you?"

"It... It isn't that I don't trust you, b-but... I don't... like the idea... the idea of having to leave my home."

"... Moonlight."

"Crimson, please understand me. Please understand that I don't want to leave my home. I'm happy here. I-I don't want to go anywhere else."

"How're you expected to figure out what's causin' the magic problems if you stay here?"

"B-By doing what I've always done, write letters to my peers and submit statistics to the Royal Research team."

"Don't you think you could get so much more done if you actually went out 'n got the experience? You aren't limited by yer surroundings, you've got the world as yer field."

"..." Moonlight stays unspeaking, keeping her eyes plastered on the grass below her.

"... I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, Moonlight. I apologize if I'm comin' off a bit pushy."

"N-No, it's okay, really, I'm not bothered, I... I..." Crimson eyes her softly, letting her gather her thoughts by remaining silent. "... C-... Could you give me some time to think about it? P-Please?"

"... Of course. Take all the time you need," he replies reassuringly. He reaches his hand to move a strand of pink hair from Moonlight's left eye. The mare blushes deeply and purses her lips, feeling her heart pounding with foreign feelings... which is abruptly interrupted by a yawn that forces itself out of the man's mouth. “Hmh, pardon me.”

Moonlight's trepidation is traded for meek amusement. "M-Maybe it's time to go back inside?"

He smirks as he sits up from the table. “That it is.” Moonlight follows suit, rising from the table as well. “I don’t gotta invade yer bed tonight either."

“Oh, no, it's okay, you can sleep in it if you want,” she assures as she begins her trek to the glass sliding door.

"That wouldn't feel right, takin' what's yers from you."

"I-I insist, Crimson. Please. It fits you very comfortably, and I can sleep on the recliner."

"'N I insist that you sleep on your own bed. I'd feel bad otherwise." He notes that she is shrinking into her shell again. His mind jumps a few times before it conjures a terribly brazen idea. "... Orrr... how about we share it?"

She begins to interpret what his words might mean and fumbles a mouthful of vowels. “Wuh, who, I— I—"

"It's big enough fer the both of us. 'N don't worry me, I don't snore. Won't even know I'm there."

"A-A-Are... are you, um..."

"Sure? Very. Best of both worlds. C'mon." He reaches his left hand to open the sliding door for her and lets her walk in first. She bows her head as a silent thanks. He enters after her, closing the door and making the path upstairs. Upon entering the bedroom, he focuses his eyes on the dormant ANA device while walking by it. “Surprised that your ANA thingy ain’t callin’ me names again."

Moonlight clears her throat, still warm at the cheeks. “I programmed her to recognize you after you fell asleep. She won’t be harassing you anymore."

“Good to hear.” He smirks, directing his attention to Moonlight. She looks back at him with uncertainty. He motions with his hand for her to go right ahead and lie down first.

She looks at the bed, absorbed in stage fright, then walks over, climbing onto the bed in a painfully shy manner. She picks up the covers and plants herself onto the right side. Once she adjusts herself into a comfortable position, Crimson strides over and lies down next to her, making sure not to disturb her nest of blankets.

The two lay next to each other, accompanied only by the quiet, occasional soft beep of the ANA device. The bed is indeed spacious enough to rest both of them comfortably. Once she uses her magic to click off the lamp, Crimson looks over to Moonlight, who is finding something rather interesting on the ceiling. “G’night, Moonlight.”

The mare does not respond immediately, instead taking in the realization that a human, who she has spend the latter half of the afternoon with, is telling her 'good night' like if nothing was out of the ordinary. Of the many things she had predicted in her time as a Royal Researcher, a night like this was not one. “G… Goodnight. Crimson.” Her still-tinted pink cheeks display her trepidation, but it does not stop her from smiling to herself. Whatever tomorrow holds, it will definitely be more exciting than solving a formula.

Home Body

~ Equestria, Moonlight's Home ~<
January 30th, Saturday, 8:06

‎

Soft, warm breathing, gently huffing against his face over and over. It smells peculiar, maybe a little pungent, but not terribly so. Crimson’s eyes open, blinking tiredly before they remain attentive.

The morning sun punches through the circular window above the bed, shining into the room and giving it light. Miraculously, he had a great slumber. This blessing of a bed combined with perfect room temperature was a formula enough for one of the best nights of sleep he’s ever had.

He turns his head to the right, over to where Moonlight is sleeping next to him… and by next to him, he means right next to him. The little blue unicorn had shuffled around in her sleep during the night, resting right up against his side, but not hugging him or embracing him in any way… she’s just kind of plastered against him. Her coat is soft and smooth to the touch, like if a firm mass of warm, high-quality silk fabric was pressing on his side.

His entire peripheral houses a close-up view on the inside of her slightly hanging maw, where she inhales through her nose and exhales out of her mouth to throw a soft gust of hot air at his face. She certainly doesn’t look graceful like this, but it’s charming in an innocent way. Crimson studies her face, keeping himself from moving so she doesn’t wake up.

It’s amazing, realizing just how parallel her existence is to his despite never having known of each other's worlds. Unlike a horse or a pony from Earth, which usually has brown and goofy teeth due to its natural tendencies, Moonlight’s are perfectly ordered and pearly. They’re so prim in fact, they put his own teeth to shame, which comes as a surprise since he made very sure to brush and floss as often as he could. A lot of men and women in Crimson’s old gang, the Black Spurs, had yellowed and crooked teeth, and it wasn't like dental supplies were hard to come by. They refused to take care of themselves, but not Crimson. Willingly failing to take care of one's own body is an odd peeve that he has with others, but regardless, he doesn't tell anyone anything more than once, especially if he knows they aren't going to listen.

She’s the pinnacle of hygiene and self-care, even if she is out-of-shape. Her mane managed to maintain its shape throughout the night, still drooping downwards, snipped to make it appear sharp at the ends but round at the top. Her horn is dangerously close to his forehead, but luckily for him, that’s about it. It’s close, but it never stabbed him. He feels tempted to reach out and touch the very tip of it, wondering if she can even feel it. He isn’t sure if a unicorn’s horn is some sort of bone with marrow and nerves in it, or just some hard protrusion that sits at the top of their head, unfeeling and unmoving.

Crimson’s studious mull is slowly deterred as his body begins to fully wake up. He feels the need to use the restroom, and not having eaten anything since Dahlia’s breakfast, he sure is hungry. He turns his head forward, facing the ceiling, and he lies still for a few more minutes.

After making sure that Moonlight’s still asleep, he discretely moves himself away from her, lifting the covers off of himself and shuffling out of bed. Once he stands and quietly yawns, he scratches his chest and looks back at the sleeping body.

“Hnnn~” she suddenly moans, rolling on the bed to end up on Crimson’s side of the bed. His side is warm, causing Moonlight to snuggle into the indentation his body left behind on the mattress.

Crimson suppresses the urge to vocalize his snicker. As he really takes in her presence without pressure, she's adorable. These ponies have a particular style to them, especially in comparison to the ones he worked with back home. Tiny muzzles, thin yet expressive lips, large and lively eyes, and their compact size delivers a visual aesthetic like no other.

It wasn’t his choice to end up being sent into this world, but in a way, he isn't complaining. Now that he knows his sister is fairing well, and he's able to talk to her when she wants, he's content in remaining in Equestria for a bit longer. This experience is certainly one worth having, especially since there's a problem disturbing the tranquility of the land. He wants to figure it out and hopefully put a stop to it. This world, or Moonlight at least, deserves to be safe from harm.

As Crimson walks quietly towards the door to exit the room and find the bathroom, he thinks about Moonlight’s reaction last night. She seriously seemed adamant about staying home, refusing the chance to acquire new and useful data via field research. She definitely looks like a home body, but even home bodies know when to leave the fort when it's necessary. She was almost desperate in the way she asserted her desire to remain here.

Crimson sees a sleek, modern wooden clock with silver-black hands ticking on the wall in the hallway. It’s actually pretty damn late, 12:45. This is possibly the latest he’s ever woken up, as he’s usually up when the sun is. The animals he had back home, before they died too suddenly in the massive shootout, were his natural alarm clock.

He finds his first stop just down the hallway, next to the staircase, where a fully opened door gives way towards a comfortably-sized restroom. Just like other rooms in the house, a nightlight with a blue lightbulb shines, but is completely drowned out by the sun’s gaze piercing through the restroom window.

He sees that even this restroom is a modern leap ahead of what he’s used to, with tile floors, a carpet in front of the shower tub, a rather nice sink and toilet, and pink and purple floral patterns along the walls. A lot of work went into this house, and for Moonlight to be the only one living in it is piteous.

Maybe she’s always been socially awkward. Crimson knew of some folks back home who just couldn’t meet and greet worth a damn, no matter how hard they tried. Viola could be coupled into that group if thinking about it a certain way, and Moonlight might just be one of those people… which is sad too, because she’d probably make a good mom. Anyone who can care for a home like this and such an extensive garden outside is bound to be good at taking care of young.

After Crimson finishes his business, making very sure to leave the place as clean as it was before he entered, he rinses his hands with one of the several soap products that Moonlight has set out. It’s not clear what she’d do with so many different soaps, but there they are.

He then heads out of the restroom and treks downstairs, feeling the cool tile greet his bare feet. His cargo shorts still scrape quite uncomfortably against his groin, but they’re better than nothing, and Moonlight doesn’t need to be more embarrassed than she already gets. He's caught her staring at his body, his barren chest, more than once. It might be a normal thing for ponies to be attracted to humans... but the same can't be said about the reverse. Crimson isn't totally sure whether he should be finding Moonlight as adorable and attractive as he currently does, but on the same token, she's not just any animal. She can speak, think, rationalize, and she practices self-care.

On the other side of the coin, it addles him that these ponies are attracted to humans regardless of the fact that they lack all of those aforementioned traits. The humans here are wild and animalistic in nature, which isn't very attractive in his eyes. Maybe he'll ask Moonlight about it later.

He makes his way towards the kitchen, which is next to the living room and the exit to the backyard. There’s a few consumable items in plain sight, like baskets that contain fruits, veggies, and some wrapped snacks, then there’s an electrically powered refrigerator which he won’t open without Moonlight’s consent.

Deciding he can wait a bit longer for her to wake up before touching anything missable, he walks to the sink to get a swig of water. There’s a pink plastic cup sitting next to the knobs of the faucet, probably one that Moonlight uses to fill and drink water from. He picks it up and sniffs it, getting no peculiar smells from it and seeing that it has a tiny bit of water at the very bottom. Convinced that it’s a drinking cup, he fills it with cold water from the faucet, proceeding to chug it down in gulps. With a satisfied sigh, he sets the cup down and returns to the living room.

He stands there, alone and unmoving, with his hands in his pockets as he stares out of the glass sliding door that enters the backyard. He can see several butterflies of different colors flapping about happily, enjoying their short lives by pollinating every single flower in the garden.

He takes a seat on the couch, and it sinks in comfortably to his buttocks. With a pleased exhale, he reclines back, sitting with his leg crossed over the other and his left arm reaching across the top of the backrest. He feels like he could fall asleep again right here and now. It's also great that the furniture and appliances in Moonlight's house are sized perfectly for a fully-grown human, they're not small or 'pony-sized.' While not positive about it, he assumes she was probably expecting a human to be at her home at some point, but it also doesn't make sense, since any other human from this world wouldn't be sitting down on the couch like he is right now. Maybe the big furniture is just personal preference.

He doesn’t know how much time he spends just sitting there, thinking, remembering, and reflecting about different things. … The conversation he had with Moonlight yesterday about Dahlia is constantly shoving other thoughts out of the way to make room for itself. It’s all he can think about right now. Was Dahlia really trying to get him to Canterlot so he could be sold to that human trafficking ring? Or was is all just a terrible structure of events that conveniently caused everything to happen the way it did? … She never really was keen on talking about her intentions, just the execution.

Maybe Moonlight was being too cynical, and Dahlia wasn’t just looking to sell him off to get him out of her hair, AND make a bag of bits while at it. … But on the same hand, that would have been quite ingenious. She could have sold Crimson off and made some money, and to boot, she’d never have to deal with the consequences of backstabbing him. He would be far, far away from her, and she’d be gone. Gone and gone, without even a shadow left behind.

Maybe that’s why Dahlia’s lodge was so under decorated. She’s the wandering type, so it could easily be that she used that lodge as a temporary stay until she made a name for herself and left again. … But she was defending him when the guards were trying to take him away. She was actively trying to keep the two of them together, and the face she had…

“The face she had…” Crimson utters, recalling the hopelessness in her eyes as he was being dragged away by the guards. He can remember it so clearly… and it’s bothering him.

Those fucking guards that stopped them, with their prideful air and their snobby attitude. Crimson brings his arms in, sitting up straight and leaning forward a bit. His hands ball into fists while his mind calls forward the aggravating memories of that encounter... he'd beat the shit out of those guards, just to deflate their ego…

... But, with a deep exhale, his hands unclench. He slumps back into the couch, letting his sharpened eyes return to their lazy stare. As much as his aggressive side wants to take hold, he's gotten better than it. He doesn't let it control him anymore, especially since it only had a history of getting him into trouble. Bar fights, random duels in the street, and all sorts of horseshit that could have been avoided if Crimson had just stayed quiet and moved on against morons that would provoke him. Viola would constantly plea to him to learn to be calm... and that's exactly what he did. It's just... sometimes, it's hard to remain calm.

… Now that he’s thinking about it, in the way Moonlight might rationalize the situation, Dahlia’s defensiveness could be attributed to her simply not wanting her precious cargo to be stolen. Like Moonlight had said, maybe Dahlia’s plan backfired terribly, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that’s what happened…

“Crimson?”

The man’s brows raise, hearing Moonlight’s muffled voice call from upstairs.

“Crimson!?”

“Downstairs!” he shouts back, hand near his mouth for amplification.

“Oh! … Okay!”

Crimson shakes his head, grinning to himself. She sounded pretty worried there, perhaps scared that her beloved pet human might have just up and abandoned her during the night.

His grin falls quickly. Maybe this is not the best joke to make with such a soft-hearted pony. Still, the thought is amusing. It shows that she cares to some degree.

He hears Moonlight’s stepping and clanking from upstairs while she conducts her morning routine. Considering the amount of care she puts into herself, it might be a lengthy routine, but there’s no rush. Hungry as he may be, a few more minutes isn’t going to kill him. His stare stays fixated on the backyard, and just the very sight of the beautiful garden is enough to fill him with peace. Moonlight should feel proud, for it is an unmistakable work of beauty.

A few minutes later, clopping of hooves against tile floor can be heard approaching until they are muffled by carpet. Crimson tilts his head to the left, seeing Moonlight enter the living room. “Well, good afternoon,” he says facetiously.

“Good morning to you too,” she returns a shy smile.

“Sleep well?”

"I, um… I did. … I-I didn’t kick you or anything while you were asleep, did I? I know I have a tendency to wake up on different sections of the bed, but I don’t know if I have any intrusive sleeping habits, since... you know...”

Crimson scratches his left brow, pondering, “… Well, you snore pretty loud. You kicked me a few times, and you hogged the blankets. Not to mention occasional sleep-talk. I almost thought you were speakin' to me at a few points during the night.” Moonlight’s face becomes progressively more horrified as he continues speaking. Her pink orbs stare at him in dismay and her mouth hangs while her cheeks furiously redden.

Unable to keep a straight face for very long, Crimson closes one eye and smirks, "I’m just kiddin’.”

Moonlight gasps in awareness... then her brows furrow deeply, her lips pucker, and her chin tucks slightly while her chest puffs out.

Dear lord, she is angry. Crimson cannot take this murderously adorable mare seriously. He chuckles lightly, “Aw, c’mon, don’t look at me like that. I was just teasin'~"

“Hmph!” Moonlight tilts her head up, turning around and giving him her back. “I did not find it very humorous.”

“You sleep just perfect, Moonlight. I was out like a light and hardly knew you were there the entire night. Very enjoyable experience, if I do say so myself.”

“… And that isn’t you just joking?”

“Not at all,” he shakes his head, still smiling at her when she turns around to look at him again. “I, uh, took the liberty of drinking water out of that pink cup you got by the sink. Hope that’s alright.”

“Of course, please help yourself to whatever you need. Did you already eat while I was asleep?”

“Nah, figured I’d wait for you to wake up before rummaging through your stuff.”

“Oh, you don't have to wait for me! I’m very sorry. W-Would you like something to eat?”

“That’d be great.”

“… Umm…” Moonlight shifts her attention to the kitchen, pondering off the top of her head what she has in stock. “… I sincerely apologize for this, but I don't have anything that would provide you with all of your required nutrients, since... humans need to eat meat.”

“Moonlight, you don't gotta apologize for everythin'. While I sure do miss a nice chicken breast, I’m fine with eatin’ from the earth.”

“… Then, how about oatmeal and fruit?”

“Sounds good.”

Moonlight timidly smiles, thankful at his compromising nature. She turns around and moves to the kitchen, seldom using her hooves for anything and opting to manipulate everything with her magic. “It’ll be a few minutes to cook the oatmeal,” she says, glancing over at the man while simultaneously pouring oats into a pot.

Crimson nods at her, witnessing her magic handling everything with precision despite not actually paying attention to it. “It fine with you f’I hang out in the yard?”

“Be my guest!” she replies gleefully.

Crimson walks to the glass door, sliding it open and stepping out to the mid-day. The fresh spring air, surprisingly not humid despite the small flowing stream in the garden, kisses his skin. He places his fists at his hips, taking in a deep breath of pristine air, then he walks towards the picnic table that sits in the grass. He sits down on it like he usually does, backwards on the bench with his elbows resting comfortably on the table.

The soothing sound of the lazy stream accompanied by birds chirping their methodical songs bring an indescribable peace. Crimson is quickly starting to realize why Moonlight might have such a hard time leaving this place, it’s so comfortable, relaxing, and familiar. He doesn’t know how many years she’s spent living here, but judging by all of the intricate little details at every corner of the house, it’s definitely more than a few. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that she might not be too keen on leaving all of this behind, especially to trade it in for danger and discomfort.

… Still, Crimson knows that he’s going to need to convince her to step out somehow. Regardless of how great this all is, the real world remains outside of these cement walls, and it speaks bitterly against the fantasy that this home provides. The magical anomalies aren’t going to suddenly disappear if everyone pretends they don’t exist, or if they aren’t treated as seriously as they should be treated. Truth be told, he doesn’t know exactly how serious these anomalies are, but if they’re capable of killing trees and making animals rabid, it’s certainly a problem. Moonlight might be the only pony savvy enough to figure out what's causing the issue, if only she'd leave her home.

The glass door can be heard sliding open again, and Moonlight steps out with shifting eyes. She spots the man sitting at the table, prompting her to head his way. Crimson sees her holding two bowls with spoons in them and two glass cups in her magic, where the cups hold an orange liquid in them. She levitates a bowl and a cup to him, “Is tangerine juice okay with you?”

“Alright with me,” he says, taking both items into his hands. “You too good fer oranges 'r what?”

“Oranges are fine, I simply prefer tangerines.”

Crimson smirks, taking a sip of juice before setting it down behind him and commencing war against the bowl of oats and fruit. Moonlight takes her seat next to him, sitting backwards on the bench like he is. Her forelegs remain idle as the bowl of oats continues to float, encapsulated with her sparkling pink energy. Her spoon soon follows suit, grasped by the ethereal force to bring a mass of oatmeal into her mouth.

The two enjoy their brunch quietly. Crimson’s attention shifts from thing to thing, mindlessly admiring parts of the garden as he rides random trains of thought. Moonlight keeps her eyes forward or resting on the grass… but from time to time, she discretely glances at the man while he isn’t looking. Her gaze becomes less covert when something that’s bothered her comes to the front of her mind. It starts to bug her so much that she prompts to ask, “Why do you have so many scratches and cuts, Crimson?”

The man looks at Moonlight, then down to his body and arms. He finishes chewing the food in his mouth and swallows, “I got into some trouble a little while ago, before I got nabbed by Celestia.”

“… I assume it was when you were with Dahlia?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“… Would you mind if I asked what occurred?”

“Don’t mind at all. It wasn’t really Dahlia’s fault. We were explorin’ together, through some forest that’s next to Dodge.”

“The Everfree forest.”

“Is that what it’s called?” he asks for confirmation, to which she nods. “Right, well, the Everfree. We were about to head back to Dahlia’s cabin, and there was this cave system that we took as a shortcut. As you can probably expect, we were attacked in the cave.”

“… By humans,” Moonlight sighs.

“Yeah. They did a real number on me, the bastards. They're vicious.”

“Can you blame them? You were intruding in their home! They were just defending what was theirs.”

“… Suppose yer right.”

“And who’s bright idea was it to take a cave as a shortcut? Let me guess, Dahlia’s.”

“… Yeah.”

Moonlight huffs, setting her empty bowl down. “You could have seriously gotten hurt, Crimson. She is such a terrible influence; it makes me furious just thinking about how she used you.”

“Moonlight…” Crimson tilts his head to her, keeping his face relaxed and comfortable, “she didn’t use me. With or without me there, she’d be doing what she does regardless. It could’a ended much worse, but it didn’t, I made sure of it. Those humans could have easily torn us to shreds, but they didn’t... I made sure of it.”

Moonlight turns her dismal gaze away. “… And what if it did turn out worse? What if something terrible happened, and you didn’t make it?”

“You can conjure them what ifs all day, Moonlight, but the fact is that I survived with nothin' more than a few scratches. Ain’t that what matters?” he leans closer to her, resting his weight on his right elbow. He tilts his head to stare more directly at her face, the side that she gives him anyway. Her lips purse and she keeps her gaze away from his, unresponsive to his question. “… Moonlight.” Her eyes shift left but quickly return to their original position. “… Yer oatmeal was amazing.”

The mare turns her head, squinting at him sourly... but due to the goofy smile stuck on his front, she can’t hold the expression for very long. Her lips quiver, breaking unwillingly into a small smile as she adjusts her glasses. “… Thank you.”

“No, thank you for the meal. All them fruits you added sat just right in my belly, and tangerine juice’s actually much tastier than I figured. I can see why you like it over boring ol’ orange.” Moonlight’s smile grows, now using her hooves to begin playing with the lock of hair on the left side of her head. “Now that I’m fueled, I was wonderin’ if you had any more tests I could tackle.”

“Oh, y-yes, actually, there are a few. … Un… fortunately, they’re not as exciting as a strength test, they’re more-so measurements and statistics.”

“I’m down fer anythin’. You just say the word.”

“Wonderful! I’ll go get some things we’ll need. You can stay here if you’d like, or come back inside if you wish. We can work out here or inside, anything you choose is fine by me.”

“Think I’ll stay out here.”

Moonlight nods, coming off of the bench while she takes all of the used dishes into her magic. She walks back into the house, sliding the door closed behind her.

Crimson is left alone again, but now he at least has a full stomach. He knows he was not being generous when he complimented her oatmeal, it was genuinely delicious. Something about the food that this land has, whether it be his imagination or not, is exceptional. He cannot speak for the carnivorous side of the food chain yet, but the fruits, veggies, and grains he has eaten are so good that it barely make sense. ... Maybe it's magic. Magic seems to be the answer for most things in this land it seems, and Moonlight using it for pretty much everything she does only serves to promote his assumption. Perhaps not a fully sound opinion, but he feels that the other races of pony certainly missed the most useful gene in the pool.

Now filled with energy, Crimson doesn't stay sitting down for very long after Moonlight leaves. He stands up, stretching himself left and right and rotating his neck. He had been eyeing the rock line for a while now, more specifically the three enormous boulders at the very far end. While confident he could lift them, he didn't want to do it in front of Moonlight, not because he doesn't want her looking at him, but on the off-chance that he strains himself too much, she wouldn't have to bare the emotional toil of watching him eat shit.

Crimson quickly glances between the rock line and the glass sliding door, wondering if he's in the clear to test his might. ... No sign of Moonlight in the living room or the kitchen.

"Fast," he mumbles to himself, jogging over to the third-most immense chunk of earth. He stands in front of it, the rock marked to be 404 pounds. He takes little time to respect the fact that it's half his size before he crouches down and plants his hands around the bottom of it, holding it firmly, and puffing out a breath as he lifts it off the ground. His eyes flash with golden energy and his muscles flex, giving them copious definition.

The cold chunk of stone prods its jagged edges at his chest as he holds it up successfully with no struggle. He then crouches, planting it back down onto the grass.

He inhales deeply and his eyes slowly lose their golden sheen. Before continuing to the next rock, he turns his head like a child who stole a quarter from their parent's desk, towards the glass door... still no Moonlight.

He steps over to the next rock, the second to the last, marked to weigh 523 pounds. The size difference between this rock and the previous one is shockingly stark, it stands nearly as tall as him with only a foot or-so in difference. It doesn't deter him, and in fact, the challenging size only serves to motivate him. Following standard procedure, he crouches down and clasps his arms around the bottom-middle section of the rock. His cheek presses against the side of it, and thankfully, this one is much smoother and pleasant to hold in comparison to the previous contender.

"Hhr!" he huffs, pursing his lips as he forces the rock up. His eyes resume their glowing nature and his body tenses. The giant mass of earth is lifted high and raised above his head as if it were made of foam.

He feels it...

He feels his Arch coursing through his veins, fueling his muscles with mountainous strength. Microscopic golden orbs in his body, each burning as bright as the sun, strap onto the fibers of his muscles, allowing them to flex, extend, and contract much more greatly than they usually could. His Arch works both willingly and autonomously, where in most cases, it is both.

To raise this huge rock several feet off the ground and hold it against his chest, he mindfully channels his Arch to increase his strength, but while he channels it, it passively performs its own duties to ensure maximum efficiency, such as automatically pocketing more oxygen in each cell in order to fuel his muscles for the task of extreme or prolonged exertion. The golden orbs shield his muscles against stress, tearing, and fatigue, but it burns energy from his body to do so, and only to the degree in which he has trained it to.

Arch, a harmonious, well-oiled machine. An astronomical gift that works under his command and as its own entity to perform feats that few can, and in rare cases, none can.

Kpf! The rock hits the grass with a muffled thud when Crimson sets it back down. He lets a breath out steadily, and his eyes slowly fade to their hazel selves. He steps to the final contender, the boulder that stands as tall as he is, marked at a weight of 631 pounds. With one quick glance to see if Moonlight is coming, he crouches back down.

...

"I-Impossible..." she whispers to herself, mouth hanging in stupor at the sight she is witnessing. She looks down at the backyard from the second-floor window of her bathroom, discretely spectating Crimson perform spectacles beyond the realm of what should be plausible. Her eyes widen and she gasps frivolously, watching him lift the boulder off the ground and into the air.

He stands firmly, leaning back a bit to hold it against his chest and cheek, before heaving it up with a hop so he holds the boulder above his head. She can see his irises radiate that hauntingly graceful energy.

Her awestruck state fades when he sets the boulder down and he gives it a pat. ... It looks like he's talking to it, giving it a few words of appreciation or something. He turns around and walks back towards the bench, but not before he shoots his curious gaze to the bathroom window. Moonlight ducks quickly, emitting an 'eep' while planting her back against the wall under the window and holding her forelegs across her chest.

Crimson stares at the window for a moment longer, then he shrugs, walking towards the bench and sitting down again. He still has some energy to kill, but he's content on just waiting for Moonlight now that he's asserted dominance over the rock line.

He glances up towards the sky, seeing the sun making its slow trail across the heavens. "... Hold a damn minute..." he suddenly mutters. "... Celestia..." he squints viciously, "... moves the sun!?"

His attention snaps towards the glass door when he hears it slide open. Moonlight steps out, carrying a few thingies in her magic. She notices his stupefied front, causing her to stare back dubiously, "... Is everything okay?"

"..." He glances upwards, then back down to her. "... Yeah, Celestia moves the sun."

"... Yes?" she looks at him as if he was speaking in tongues.

Crimson comes to realize that this occurrence is common-place in her land, making only him seem like the odd one. "... So, uh... what'cha got there?" he asks, scratching the back of his head.

Moonlight comes to the table, setting a few articles down on it but keeping one still held in her magic. She has a clipboard and a quill in her twinkling hold, and she had set down a strange wooden box of sorts that has black rubber strings attached to it. Another item she placed down was a roll of measuring tape, and the last item being a needle. "A few items that will allow me to gauge the physical aspects of your body," she replies, but what is hard to miss is her strangely wobbly tone. "I-I hope you're not afraid of needles..."

"Terrified of them, actually."

Moonlight shakes her head at his jest, "The needle should be scared of you, if anything."

Crimson snickers, "What makes you say that?"

"A few things. Stand next to me, please," she directs, standing a few feet away from the table while bringing the measuring tape into her magic. Crimson stands up from the bench with an exaggerated grunt, walking over and standing right in front of her. "Back straight, chin up, eyes forward," she demands, but her soft voice makes the directions sound more like requests.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, moving his body enthusiastically in the exact order she said. The measuring tape is levitated next to him, snapped straight and held in place.

"Two-hundred and eight centimeters," Moonlight reads out, "... unbelievable."

"Is it?"

"W-Well, yes! The tallest human currently in the latest edition the Equestria Wildlife Index is recorded at one-hundred and sixty-five centimeters! You have that well-over!"

"I suppose I'm a bit taller than average, people back home would compliment my height all the time."

"What is the average height of a human where you come from?"

"Well, I ain't no anthropologist or nothin', but most folks I've met gauge around five-foot-ten for men, 'n five-foot-seven for women. Ain't sure what that equates to in centimeters, but about this tall," he puts a leveled hand to his upper then lower chest as an example. "'Course, people were taller or shorter on occasion, but it's kinda the 'catch-all.'"

"You beat even your own species in height! Oh, um, and one-sixty-five centimeters would equate to five feet and five inches."

"Ah, thanks. Considerate as you are intelligent, Lighty."

Her cheeks tint lightly as she reaches to readjust her glasses bashfully. "I-In regards to humans on Equestria and the humans from your world, your height is baffling."

"You think I'm tall? You want tall, you should'a seen my brother 'n my father. Now THEY were tall. Them bastards were over seven feet tall. About yae-high," he puts his palm just over his head.

"... Woaa!" Moonlight's eyes glimmer in awe. "Imagine..."

"Yeah, they were quite somethin', alright. ... So, uh, what's next?"

"Oh, um," Moonlight's gaze returns to the world, blinking twice, "... this."

"Gy-woh!" Crimson's eyes widen when his feet suddenly lift off the ground, feeling his body tingling at the encapsulation of her pink aura. Moonlight's eyes squint and she sticks her tongue out in thought, holding him in the air effortlessly.

After a moment, she sets him back down onto his feet carefully. "V-Very sorry," she murmurs while writing into her clipboard.

"That was somethin'."

"You weigh two-hundred and twenty-eight pounds," she states while scribbling.

"Y... Yeah. ... How the hell did you figure that out?"

"It was an educated guess, but I'm happy to hear that I was correct."

"Hot damn. I mean, it's been a while since I've been on a scale, but you guessed my weight just by holdin' me in yer magic?"

"It's a skill I learned over time."

"I'm more surprised you can even feel my weight, you picked me up like if I was nothin'."

"Of course. Things don't become weightless when manipulated by magic."

"So it was you that got them huge-ass rocks in line there."

"W-What makes you say that?"

"No need to be modest, Moonlight. Yer magic is powerful stuff. Real powerful stuff. You can pick heavy objects up like no one's business." He brings his index finger to his chin, reflecting for a moment. "... But I reckon you aren't using your body to lift stuff up, right?"

"Indeed. I'm using..." she stops speaking and writing simultaneously, "... Hh-Hey, what is that supposed to mean?"

Crimson's eyes widen at her flustering, "Hoho, Moonlight, c'mon now. I didn't mean it like that. It was an innocent question, I swear."

"No, no, be honest. I know what you meant, I'm not dumb."

"Moonlight," Crimson places his hands at his hips, staring softly at her pouting front. "Don't think for a second I wanted to slide a low-blow. On the contrary, I find that you're quite pretty." Her eyes dilate to pen pricks at his words. "Seriously, I was just assumin' holdin' stuff with yer magic wasn't the same as physically pickin' stuff up."

Moonlight clears the frog in her throat, gathering some mental pieces before she speaks up, "Y-Your assumption i-is correct, yes. M-Magic, um... you... it works differently by..." she stops again, staring at the grass. "... D-Do you really think I'm... pretty?"

Crimson nods, smiling warmly. "Wouldn't have said it if it weren't true."

"... Eheh... Um..." The items in her magical hold suddenly give way when her horn sparks out and the aura surrounding the items fades away. She gasps as everything falls to the grass, her face reddening terribly while she forces her horn to ignite again and pick everything up.

Crimson witnesses this with peak amusement, keeping himself from further egging on her shyness. "I think I figured it out. Magic works based on focus, don't it?"

"... Focus," Moonlight repeats and nods, shaking a small amount of dirt off of her clipboard, "mental focus... t-that's how magic works. T-The stronger your mental focus, the stronger your magic is."

"A very straight-forward concept."

"..." Her eyes are refusing to stare back at him, but she continues speaking. "... Is... is that how Arch works?"

The question takes Crimson by surprise, causing him to fall into thought. "Eeh... kind of. A part of it is mental focus, but a big part of it is, uh... how I 'feel,' I guess." Moonlight appears hugely curious, signaled by her ears standing tall. "See, Arch Angels are kind of counter-productive in the sense that--"

"Arch Angels~" Moonlight coos, echoing the title subconsciously in adoration. The man stares silently back at her. "Oh, um! I'm sorry! Please, continue!"

He smiles, waving his hand dismissively to show he does not mind. " ... Where was I, uh... ah. Right. Arch Angels. That's what I am. I should have asked my dad when I had the chance, but I've got no idea where that name actually comes from. I reckon it has to do with what I look like when my Arch is around me. As I was sayin', Arch Angels are counter-productive in the sense that our Arch hurts us. It doesn't do it on purpose, but more-so as collateral damage. When usin' my Arch, I feel like it forces my body to perform above and beyond my limit, which is useful, but causes me pain to varying degrees."

"... Magic can do the same thing if treated lightly. While focus is a big part of magic, one's will comes in to play as well. I... wouldn't compare it to the extent of your Arch, but unicorns can experience mental and bodily anguish if we overdo our magical abilities. Headaches, migraines, nose-bleeds..."

"Huh. Guessin' Arch and magic ain't too different after all."

"That is something I hope I can research more on. I-If, um... if you don't mind, of course."

"Not at all, girly."

"M-May I ask, how do you activate your Arch? You mentioned something about feelings?"

"Yeah, fer the lack of a better word. It 'turns on' dependin' on how I feel."

"Like if you were angry or upset?"

"That, but other things too. I noticed that when I was a kid, I spent a whole lotta time around my sister. Being with her made me happy, and that happiness let me use my Arch fer a whole bunch'a things. Reckon every emotion out there has got some sorta affect on my... uh..." He trails off, raising his left brow as he sees Moonlight scribbling into her clipboard. "... You writin' all of this down?"

"Yes! It's too fascinating not to!" She lowers the clipboard, smiling up at his skeptical front. Her smile wavers at the look on his face. "Um... it is okay if I write this down... yes?"

"Go right ahead."

"B-But, this-- ... I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."

"C'mon now, Moonlight. Don't worry yerself one bit. Maybe a bit surprised that you're this into it, but I really don't mind."

"Yay!" she exclaims, putting her pen back onto the parchment of the clipboard. "Thank you, thank you! Y-You had said that you didn't know the origins of the term Arch Angel, but you went to say that your physical appearance gives clues as to why you might call it that. Does your appearance change upon channeling Arch?"

"Sorta. It depends on how hard I'm doin' it though. You've already seen one part of it, my eyes. Not sure if you've ever heard the saying, 'the eyes are the windows to the soul.' When channeling Arch, I can feel this... weird burn deep down inside of me, like if my soul was on fire. The facts of it might be less abstract than that, but that's my take on it. Maybe the change in my eyes is due to somethin' else more science-like, but I wouldn't know. Anyways, other changes are more drastic, like growin' out wings and stuff."

"Wings?" she repeats excitedly. "Could... could I have a demonstration?" Crimson purses his lips and scratches the back of his head, looking away unsurely. Moonlight is quick to get the hint, lowering her head to give herself less height. "Y-You do not have to if you do not want to..."

"It's not that I don't want to, I'd be glad to demonstrate fer you... it's just... I don't know. It don't work like it used to when I was a kid. As I got older, usin' my Arch just sorta... hurts me. Sucks up a lot of my breath and energy to bring all that out. Still, it's varying degrees, and I can do most of my Arch stuff without them wings appearin'. I've only ever done it when it's really necessary."

"... Like when it gets really dangerous?"

"Exactly. If someone or somethin' is in trouble, you best believe I'll use every part of me to keep 'em safe. Don't care how much it hurts. Even when I first got to Equestria and my Arch was actin' screwy, it still managed to do what I trained it to do."

Crimson sees the contemplative air that Moonlight is now taking. She's internalizing his words, just the way he wanted her to. He smiles down at the thoughtful mare, seeing that he incited the exact reaction he wanted. "Moonlight." She remains gazing at the grass near his feet. "Moonlight, look at me." It takes a brief struggle with herself to do what he asks, but she warily does so. "... I wasn't lyin' when I said I'd keep you safe if we went after the anomalies. If things get real dangerous, I'll be there to protect you."

"It... it isn't that I don't believe you couldn't protect me," Moonlight turns her gaze away, "... I know you can. I saw how easily you lifted the really big rocks earlier."

"You saw that?" Crimson asks bashfully.

She nods, "I believe in you, Crimson. ... I just... don't believe in me."

"That makes one of us. Moonlight, you're intelligent, you're wise, and you've got a bank of info waitin' to be shown to the world. If there's anyone out there that can get the job done, and get it done right, it's you."

"... But, I..." Moonlight begins, but fails to keep speaking despite Crimson waiting for her to continue.

"... This house," Crimson crouches down, coming just above eye-level with her, "is beautiful. All the love and care you put into it is amazin'. It's worth protecting, and I don't think you can do that by stayin' here. The way you feel about yer home, that's how I feel about you. You're worth protecting, and I can't do that if you won't take a leap of faith. I believe in you wholeheartedly, even if you don't believe in yourself."

Moonlight, stuck in her silence, feels a burdening weight inside of her. The growing despondency on her face displays the small crack in her shell, the one that he needed to finally break it open. There are obviously many things she wants to voice right now, countless concerns and excuses... but she can't bring herself to speak even one. She is melting under his gaze, her shell is cracking further through his comforting eyes.

With a slight tilt of his head, he reaches forward, cupping her cheek into his hand. She squints at his touch, breathing unsteadily from the emotion welling in her chest. Gently caressing her cheek with his thumb, he smiles at her, a smile which sheds off the hardest layer of her indecision. She can't hold it together anymore. The isolation, the self-wariness, an anchor in her soul is yanked by the chain by Crimson's unrelenting hand, burdening her no longer.

Moonlight steps forward, burying herself into his left shoulder. Crimson returns the embrace and hugs her closely.

The sounds of birds chirping, the gentle jingle of the wind chimes near the glass door, and the soothing sound of gently flowing water, it all breathes life into the environment in which they share. Encompassed by the whispers of nature, they remain together for an uncounted length of time.

They finally break their embrace, but Moonlight's hooves remain at his sides as they stare into each other's eyes. "... Want to finish up those tests?" Crimson asks with his unfaded smile.

"... I would love to."

‎

~~~~<

‎

Crimson lays in bed, hands behind his head with one knee arched. He stares at the ceiling in silence, listening to Moonlight's quill scribbling over a piece of parchment. Moonlight herself sits at her desk, where she is writing a formal letter to Celestia. She constantly scrutinizes it to see if she made a mistake, then continues writing. After some more quiet writing, she sits back and releases a yawn, patting her muzzle gently with her hoof.

"Done, I reckon?" Crimson asks, still looking at the ceiling.

"Mhm. Hopefully she gets back to me soon... it's been quite a while since I last wrote her a letter. ... I hope she doesn't think ill of me."

"Don't think she would. She sent me to you because she cares, after all."

"Indeed... she never stopped caring about me for some reason. I trained under her wing after university, and I was placed as the Head Researcher for the Royal Research team. It was a great experience, and Celestia and I grew close to each other... but I left Canterlot. I wanted to distance myself from everything there... and unfortunately, that meant her as well. She still wrote me letters after I left, and I wrote back to her... but at some point, I stopped bothering."

"Why'd you leave Canterlot if things were goin' so well?"

"It's... was what Celestia and I agree on. Now, here I am, actually thinking of heading back after all of these years. This is such a horrible idea..."

"Moonlight, it ain't a horrible idea. It's the only place you and I know that could help out with the research on them anomalies. Even if goin' to Canterlot turns out to be bad idea, it's my idea, so you can blame me if things don't go well."

"How encouraging."

"You know me," Crimson says, tilting his head to look at Moonlight. "Besides, I'm sure Celestia ain't upset, she spoke highly of you."

"I hope so," Moonlight encases the letter with her magic, tying it closed with a red string. "If I am being truthful, I don't think I could meet her face to face if she was... angry at me."

"She ain't, and I'd bet good money that she'd love to see you again."

"... Well," she eyes the rolled up scroll distastefully, "... here goes everything." Her horn glows with its pink aura, and with a poof, the scroll is blinked out of existence.

"Woah," Crimson sits up. "... Did you really send that letter to Canterlot?" Moonlight nods in response. "Holy shit. It's really that easy?"

"N-No, it's actually quite complicated. Send-scroll spells are very difficult to master, especially when the distance is vast."

"But you just sent it like if it was nothin'."

"As a Royal Researcher, I've had many years of practice..."

"... Huh. Guess I can't argue with that." Crimson catches Moonlight yawn again, causing him to sigh through his nose subconsciously. "Time for bed, I reckon."

She nods, finishing her yawn. "It may take a while for us to get a response, depending on how busy she is. With everything that has been happening, I'm almost certain it will be a few days... maybe longer when she realizes it's from me..."

"C'mon, girly. Don't be your own worst enemy." Crimson moves the blankets on the other side of the bed, leaving the bed open and ready for her to lay down. Moonlight downheartedly gets up from her desk, taking her glasses off and levitating them to her nightstand. She shuffles into bed and covers herself up with the blankets, sighing deeply. She shuffles around and turns onto her side, facing Crimson. He is still on his back, resting with his hands behind his head. His eyes are closed, but upon Moonlight gazing over to him, he smiles. "G'night, Moonlight."

She snuggles into her sheets, covering her muzzle with them to only leave her eyes revealed. "... Goodnight, Crimson."

Act 4: Return to Your Roots

~ Equestria, Moonlight's Home ~<
February 1st, Sunday, 7:31

‎

Knock, knock, knock

Crimson's eyes pry open at the sound of fairly forceful knocking. He sits up and rubs his left eye, listening again for the sound.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock

"Hnn," Moonlight moans, turning onto her back from her side. Her sleepy eyes barely open, staring forward blankly. "... What is that?" she murmurs in her barely-waking state. "Did a deer get in again?"

Crimson furrows his brows at her outlandish assumption. "... Deer? Moonlight, I think someone's at your door."

"... The door?" She slowly sits up... then her eyelids break open in realization. "The door!? Somepony's at my door!?"

"That's what I reckon," Crimson says as he stands up from bed, leaning over it to push the semi-translucent blue curtains that drape over the circular window. He peeks through it, discretely looking down to the front porch of the house.

"Why would anypony be at my door? No one ever visits me," she worriedly whispers as she levitates her glasses to herself, getting them on and adjusting them with her hoof. "Except for maybe the mail mare, but she never knocks. She always leaves my mail inside the box."

"Huh. They look like the guards from Canterlot." He scratches his head. "They've got a wagon 'n everything. I thought you said it would take a few days to even get a response, let alone an escort."

"W-What do you mean?"

"Take a look fer yerself."

Moonlight gets up, stumbling on the bed to move towards Crimson. She leans her head next to his, peeking out to see exactly what he had described. Four blocky pegasus stallions donning golden armor stand at the front of her house, where one stallion has unstrapped himself from the silver and gold-etched carriage they have with them in order to knock on the door. Moonlight retracts from the window, whispering to herself, "They're here already!?"

"Heh, yeah. These guys got here quick. Must'a left before the sun was even up to arrive this early." Crimson retreats from the window and smiles at the frowning unicorn. "Maybe Celestia got yer letter and was loads-excited to hear from you again. I wouldn't put it past her that she deployed an escort the minute she could."

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock

"B-B-But, now!? She wants me to come back now!?"

"Suppose that's why them guards are here."

"... I'm not ready for this," she states, rearing away from the window while staring into the void.

"Maybe or maybe not, but one thing's fer sure: I believe in you, Moonlight. You got this."

Lacking a response, Moonlight's muzzle scrunches and she climbs off the bed, trotting hastily towards her desk. She opens the bottom right drawer and levitates a navy-blue cloth out. Crimson quickly realizes it's a hood and cloak once she gets it on herself, and it covers her entire body, save for the ends of her hooves and tail. There's even a little hole at the top of the hood for her horn to come out of. Everything about the garb is inconspicuous, it shades over her eyes and hides her form very well.

Now, she stands there, facing the door to her room, rooted in anxiety.

"... Moonlight." Crimson reaches over, pulling the hood up then back to reveal her face again.

"... I'm not ready for this," Moonlight repeats, looking up to meet his unenthused face, becoming more bashful under his stare.

Crimson smiles, crouching down to be nearly at eye-level with her. He brings her in for a hug, wrapping his hands around the back of her neck and head. She quickly couples into his chest, almost poking him with her horn. After a brief few seconds, they part enough to look each other in the eyes. "I'll be with you every step of the way," the man soothes.

Moonlight throws herself back into his embrace, resting her chin on his shoulder and closing her eyes tightly. Crimson is happy to hold her again for a moment longer.

She is flooded by the same surreal sensation that she swore overtook her yesterday evening. It mixes oddly in her mind - the terrible anxiety she is feeling actively combats the comfort she is receiving.

Knock, knock, knock

"Miss Wish, are you home?" calls a stern, grumbling male voice from the outside of the front door.

Their second hug is cut much shorter than the first, having to respond to the demanding press of the guard pony. The duo break from each other, with Moonlight staring up at the man with complete uncertainty.

Crimson steps aside, lifting his hand towards the door to gesture for her to proceed. Reluctantly, she exits the bedroom and makes her way downstairs to the front door, skipping any morning routines that she would much rather get done. Crimson follows behind her, stopping at her side when she opens the front door with her magic. She cautiously glances left and right, stepping out into the blue-hued morning.

The sun is just now rising over the horizon, poking out from the sea that lies a few meters out from the front of Moonlight's home.

The guard who has been knocking stands firm with a deadly-serious face, and he looks at Moonlight when she presents herself at the door. His eyes slowly slide towards the tall human that stands just behind her... and his face actively keeps from contorting in judgement, marked by the twitching of his eyebrows. After a momentary glare, he returns his gaze to Moonlight, bowing his head and closing his eyes with great respect, "Miss Wish."

"G-Good-- Good morning... sir," Moonlight responds awkwardly, looking between him and the other three guards staring over with their stone-cold faces.

"At your command, Miss Wish, we shall escort you back to Canterlot."

His words ricochet an indefinite amount of times in her head. They are really here to take her back to Canterlot, the place that she has spent many years avoiding. Her ears fall to her head and she fails to respond again, taking the same disquieted look she had in her room.

"Hey," Crimson leans in and murmurs behind her, causing the guards to recoil like springs at the sound of his voice. "Whatever happens, I'll be with you. Every step'a the way."

Moonlight's eyes lift to see the addlement in the guards. Crimson speaking caused their stern, hard-ass expressions to hit the ground faster than a stalling plane.

"... Hoooly shit!" a guard still attached to the carriage cries out. "The human can talk!"

"Can it, private," the guard in front of Moonlight scowls back at him.

"... Should I... p-pack my things?" Moonlight asks, turning her face away from the guard.

"No, ma'am. Not necessary. Per Princess Celestia's instruction, she shall equate you with basic necessities, and anything else you may request once settled in. Your belongings here will remain. You must only bring yourself."

Moonlight looks back at Crimson warily, to which he nods with a smile. While the mare finds some semblance of solace in his expression, the guards are further oppressed by his facial flexing.

Once she absorbs enough comfort to think critically again, a realization hits. She looks back to the guards with furrowed brows. "What about my home? I completely forgot about it when I wrote my letter to Celestia... I can't just abandon it. I need to find a home-sitter, or... um..."

The guardpony continues when she trepidly trails off. "Per Princess Celestia's instruction, she will routinely deploy a team of maids to tend to your home while you are absent. This will occur once a week every Monday. Indefinitely. Until you advise otherwise, miss Wish."

"Huh, she really thought of everythin', didn't she?" Crimson adds, crossing his arms over his chest. Of course, his comment draws more sour stares from the guards.

"... I'm not surprised... unfortunately." Moonlight sighs defeatedly, "Nothing gets past her... so..." When a breeze of silence runs past everyone, she quickly realizes that the final step must be taken by her and her alone. "Mh, s-should we... board the carriage then?"

"If you and your human are ready to return to Canterlot, then please do so, Miss Wish," the guard responds without moving an inch of his body.

"'Yer human?'" Crimson repeats critically, taking one step towards the guard. The guard snaps his attention to him, shifting to a defensive posture instantly. The rest of the guards appear just as ready for confrontation as their comrade. "I ain't a dog, partner. Best keep that in mind."

"I strongly suggest you to watch your tone, human," the guard snarls.

"'N I strongly suggest you find a fat one to sit on."

"Puh-- Please!" Moonlight cries, pausing both Crimson and the guard immediately. "He's not my property! Address him as you would anypony else. Please."

The group of tense guards gawk at the man as he himself returns a sharp stare... but shortly after Moonlight's words, the guards resume their stoic posture, and the stallion in front of her bows his head, "Of course, Miss Wish. We apologize."

Moonlight exhales deeply, letting her eyes and ears drop while feeling the rhythm of her unsettled heart beat like a drum. "... Why am I doing this," she whispers solemnly, walking towards the carriage. Crimson's worry is prominent on his face, keeping his gaze on her while he follows.

The guard stallion trots with haste towards the carriage, extending an attachment at the side of it to drop a fold-in staircase. Appearing familiar with this process already, Moonlight uses the steps without a second thought, taking them one by one until she boards and sits on the left seat.

Crimson skips the stairs, opting for grabbing the side of the carriage and leaping in. Though no damage is done to the carriage, it shakes left and right under his weight, and the guards do not appear very impressed. He sits next to Moonlight, taking the middle and right seat at the same time due to his size.

Once boarded, the stallion slides the fold-in staircase back into its slot then heads back to hitch himself into the carriage reins. "The trip will estimate around three hours," he calls without looking back. "Please make yourself comfortable, miss Wish. At your command, we will return to Canterlot."

"..." Moonlight looks to the left, off the side of the carriage and away from Crimson. It is as if she knew he'd try to give her a smile or some sort of reassurance, but she chooses to look away. With a wobbly sigh, she slouches back into the carriage seat. "... Please proceed."

"Wings at the ready," the guard commands his team, and the four of them extend their powerful feathered appendages. "Forward." The carriage is pulled by the strength of these burly pegasi once they begin running across the straight dirt road in front of Moonlight's home. They flap their wings en-cadence as they run faster and faster, until finally, they lift off the ground and soar into the air. They make a wide u-turn in order to fixate themselves onto a path towards the city on the mountain.

Even from out here, miles and miles away, Crimson can see it presenting its unmistakable silhouette. It's positioned so perfectly on that mountain-side, he assumes you can probably see it from any point in Equestria.

He looks towards Moonlight again. She is still looking away, mulling in her disquiet. He assumed from the start that she was socially wary, but it was never this prominent.

He comes to think that perhaps her anxiety did not show itself very much before was due to being in a safe, comfortable place. Maybe that same comfort rubbed off in her process of warming up to him.

Whatever the case, his lack of foresight into these factors had led him to believe her anxieties were not as bad as they truly are. In fact, he feels that it might actually be a lot worse than just 'bad', and it might get even worse now that she's heading back to the city of marble and gold.

Crimson feels his teeth clenching in growing remorse. Maybe this was a bit too early. Maybe she did need a few days of mental space before this happened... but again, it is now tears in the rain. They are already on route to Canterlot, to whatever it is that waits for them there.

Though the ugly face of regret shows itself, he knows this might still be for the best, especially if there is some form of unidentified danger causing country-wide turmoil. There are many ponies and resources that could help them better understand this danger, and hopefully, find a way to deal with them.

Crimson recalls that Moonlight made it a point to inform Celestia in her letter that he was an intelligent human, so he hopes there will not be any undue surprises. It should just be a matter of standing before the princess, making it clear that they have arrived, and getting situated. He might need to rent out a place in the city, and Moonlight is probably going to stay somewhere in the Castle since that is where she previously had a room, but with any luck, they should be able to get researching on the anomalies by tomorrow.

They have a few hours till they reach their destination, so he figures he might as well try to relax. Moonlight seems to be doing that already since she's dozing in and out from how sleepy she is. Crimson crosses his arms and leans back into the seats, looking off to the distant horizon with his mind on overtime.

‎ ‎

~~~~~<

‎ ‎

After some time spent soaring through the skies, Moonlight had fallen back to sleep. She had woken up much earlier than she usually does due to the unanticipated arrival of the Royal Guards, so it came back at her full-force after they had began their trip. It worried Crimson for a while, he had feared that she might fall off of the carriage due to her random movements, or because the carriage might have tilted and tossed her off. Luckily, nothing has happened, almost as if she was magically bound to the seat somehow. She's sound asleep, looking much better this way than she did while awake hours ago. Maybe sleep is what she needed in order to ease the nerves... hopefully.

Crimson's attention shifts to the city they are closing in on. The amount of movement and bustling going on surprises him, he doesn't remember Canterlot being nearly this busy when he first came here.

Carriages, both grounded and flying, are found everywhere, moving ponies from place to place. There are lots of ponies entering and exiting buildings, walking along the sidewalk, and generally being. Crimson assumes today is a special occasion or something, but there's nothing around that can obviously point it out. He feels he is wrong about his assumption, that maybe this is just how busy Canterlot is. Though, considering what happened before, his reservations are deeply set.

The pegasi flying their cart slowly yaw, turning widely in order to change direction towards the Castle. Crimson's brows raise, again impressed by the greatness of the Canterlot Castle. As they close in on it from above, he admires every nook and cranny that it has, with floors upon floors, balconies and watchtowers littered throughout, and many bridges that connect some parts of the castle to others. Now that he can properly admire his environment, he makes very sure to do so.

They fly down towards the front of the castle, prepping to make a landing on the grass next to the massive golden doors that enter it. As they make their descent, Crimson reaches over and places his hand on Moonlight's head, gently stroking her mane. With a quiet moan, she shuffles in place and opens her eyes. He pulls his hand away as she sits up, and her eyes lock onto him first before glancing around at her surroundings. Then, in an overbearing wave of pure dread, her pupils dilate to pin pricks. "... We're here already?" Her horn glows, using her magic to slip the hood from her robe back onto her head.

"Yeah. I'll be right behind you," Crimson assures. She doesn't respond to his soothing words, and instead she keeps her head tilted down, hiding herself under the floppy hood of her robe.

With a sigh, Crimson sits up and turns his head forward when the carriage makes its soft landing on the grass. The guard stallions that have pulled them continuously for almost four hours are exhausted, but they still stand proud and serious. For acting like hard-asses, Crimson can appreciate that they are at least good at their job.

The stallions unhinge themselves from the reins, and the leader of the squad comes around to pull the staircase out from the side he sits.

As the guard gets the staircase down, Crimson notices that there are a lot of ponies around the Castle, even if it is bordered off from the rest of the city. There is a lush, expansive garden next to the castle that seems to span for a mile. A number of garden-tending ponies that are supposed to be working are instead staring at him. The guards that patrol the front of the Castle, and some that are simply wandering about, all focus their eyes on him and Moonlight.

Adding even more spectators, there are some maid-looking ponies and high-class-attire-wearing fancy ponies standing around, and they are all staring. Every single one. He does not feel as if he is exaggerating either. They are all looking at him and Moonlight, wide-eyed, willingly interrupting their daily lives to scope in on the scene before them. The staring here is monumentally worse than the staring he got at Dodge. He can hear some of the whispers coming from the many mouths speaking at once...

"Who is that?"

"A researcher's scribe perhaps."

"Do you think they work for the Head Researcher?"

"Impossible. Haven't you heard the rumor going about?"

"Wait! Look! What is that thing next to the scribe?"

"Are your eyes dysfunctional? That is clearly a human."

"What is a human doing inside the Castle walls!?"

"Hm, actually... that human appears familiar to me."

Once the stairs are set down, Moonlight stands from her seat, prompting Crimson to do the same. The man leaps down without taking the stairs, landing next to the guard stallion.

Slightly repulsed, the stallion takes a few steps back and keeps his focus on the hooded unicorn. "Would you like an escort?" he asks her with humbleness.

Unresponsive, Moonlight takes the staircase down by herself, keeping her posture discrete. She stops at the guard's side, whispering without looking up, "N-No... thank you." She slightly turns her head, motioning towards Crimson. "Please... follow." She begins walking instantly after, making him follow behind her without further instruction.

The eyes of ponies around follow them every step of the way. The weight of their stares, despite shielded by a layer of cloth, press down on the blue unicorn heavily. She can hear their whispers, their assumptions and judgement, but luckily none of them seem to be the wiser. Most of the attention is being deflected towards the lumbering man, which he doesn't really seem bothered by. He walks behind Moonlight, keeping his face forward as she leads him.

Two guards posted at the front entrance to the castle scrutinize him as they proceed inside. The mumbles of the spectators drowns away upon entering the castle, where they enter a grand lobby. A single mare is posted at a wide desk at the far end, with staircases on either side that lead up to somewhere. There's also large golden doors to the left and the right, which also lead somewhere unknown to him.

The desk receptionist keeps her eyes planted on the duo as they move quietly across the lobby. Moonlight walks towards the staircase to the right of the receptionist, taking each step slowly and carefully, effectively making the dense silence and the staring of the receptionist harder to endure.

Crimson shifts his attention to the gawking mare behind the desk, lifting his left brow at her. Her expression distorts uncomfortably when punched by his stare. She darts her eyes from the scrolls on her desk to the man a few times before leaving them locked on him. The face she now makes is that akin to a person being accused of a crime they committed. She looks terrified.

Finally making it up the stairs, Moonlight continues her trail through a great hall at the top. This hallway is just like the one he remembers Celestia leading him through, but only in structure. This is definitely a different place in the Castle, which he assumes because both sides of this hallway have beautiful stained-glass windows rather than just one. This hallway appears to be a connector that forks off into three more directions.

Soon enough, Crimson loses his sense of direction in the maze that is this humongous castle, so he opts for admiring his surroundings, walking behind Moonlight and mindlessly taking her gracious lead.

They don't share a word the whole walk, but he certain it's for the best... well, her best. She had whispered to him and the carriage pony after getting off, making it abundantly clear she doesn't want to overtly use her voice. She's hiding under that silk robe, gathering questioning glances from ponies around. Roaming or posted guards, maids, other custodian types, and ponies of class, they're everywhere in the castle... and Moonlight probably knew that already.

Crimson is moving to the assumption that she doesn't want anyone to know who she is, which doesn't make a whole lot of sense to him. She's the Head Researcher, she has a respected position in this city-- no, this country. Why would she ever need to hide? It's not like she's committed a crime or anything of that nature. Maybe she just doesn't like the attention. Being an esteemed part of the most important society in Equestria probably comes with a lot of eyes following your every move.

He'll mull only to himself for now. Moonlight is leading him towards the end of another hallway, but this time, the embellished door that greets them stands testament to what it houses, the throne room.

She approaches the door, moving to open it herself, but she flinches in fear when the two guards posted at the sides cross their spears to block her path.

"Who goes there?" the guard questions fiercely, glancing between the tall man and the hooded pony. Both Crimson and Moonlight respond non-verbally, with the man balling his hands into fists and the trepid mare moving to lift her hood slightly to reveal one shimmering eye. The guard's eyes open widely in cognizance, "... Head... Head Researcher Wish? Is that really you?"

"Shh!" she sounds suddenly, looking around for anyone that could have heard him.

"I-- Err, eeh..." The guard in gold looks over to his partner in silver armor, who is equally befuddled. They lift their spears back to their sides and bow their heads. "M-My apologies, Head Researcher W--"

"Shh!" Moonlight leans forward, staring at him with her trembling pink orb through her glasses.

The guard swallows and nods, visibly disoriented by Moonlight's demeanor. Without further question, he uses his horn to grasp the extravagant door behind him, opening it wide for her entry.

Moonlight can see her, sitting atop of her throne there at her lonesome at the far end of the room. Celestia is eyeing her back, motionless save for slow blinking, waiting patiently for their incoming interaction. Moonlight's lips tremble and her head lowers, letting the hood fall back down over her face completely.

With one cautious step into the throne room, she makes her way in with Crimson following behind. No matter how low she keeps her head, no matter how she tries to hide herself, she feels the eyes of the princess staring right through her hood.

Soon enough, the duo stand before the young ruler of Equestria without uttering a word. Celestia's calm gaze shifts between both of them, but finally stops on Moonlight. The tension Crimson feels in this very moment is cumbersome, despite being ignorant to the history between the two of them. Moonlight's unwillingness to look up and meet Celestia's eyes speaks volumes even though the unicorn herself says nothing.

Finally, Moonlight's trembling forelegs bend, bowing down to the princess on the throne. Crimson sees this and elects to do the same, coming down onto his left knee and lowering his head. He bows not for the princess, but for the sake of the mare next to him. The last thing he feels he should do is cause a scene for Moonlight by being disrespectful to the country's ruler.

Now keeled over, there is silence to greet them. No response from the princess. The duo keep their heads bowed, unseeing to Celestia's reaction. Instead, they hear her, listening to the sound of her rising from her throne and make slow, paced steps down the staircase of her throne. The muffled clack of her golden slippers against the carpet draws closer, until Crimson sees her hooves appear at the top of his peripheral vision.

"Rise, my subjects," she calls compassionately. Her voice sounds anything but upset or unnerved, the complete opposite of Moonlight.

Crimson lifts his head and stands up, resuming his full height over the princess, yet Moonlight remains bowed, muzzle towards the ground. Both Crimson and Celestia look at Moonlight, seeing her body shivering under the robe that covers her.

Celestia shifts her attention to the man, driving him to look back at her. Her irises, the radiant pink color that they contain, remind him somewhat of Moonlight's. The princess's face is easy and calm, but the shine in her eyes advocates solemnness towards the mare who can't even look at her. Crimson reads it fully, glancing quickly at Moonlight before looking back at her.

These two ponies need some alone time, and that's exactly what he'll give them. He takes a few steps backwards and nods once. In turn, he receives a grateful smile from her. That smile of hers is all he needs to let him know that she's aware of his sapience, so there's no need for his interruption now.

After taking a few steps back, he turns around and walks along the red carpet towards the exit of the throne room, pushing the large, cold golden door open and stepping out, making sure to close it gently behind himself.

The two guards protecting the doors outside move their attention to him. They scan him quickly before looking forward again, acting as if he did not exist.

Crimson glances between both of them, putting his hands in his pockets and smirking. He thinks this a perfect opportunity to relieve some of the scorn he feels for the Royal Guard. He skips in his mind, wondering who to annoy first. He speaks up simply to the both of them, "... Howdy."

Her Favorite Place to Be

~ Canterlot Castle, the Throne Room's Doors ~<
February 1st, Sunday, 10:44

‎

The guards trade glances with one-another, conceding their confusion through their unspoken exchange. They then move their furrowed stare to the human.

Crimson crosses his arms, looking between them boredly. “Not ones for greetings?” he asks sarcastically to the silent shields of the throne room door, and again, they do not reply. Instead, they set their sights forward as they return to their stagnant posture of attention. “Hmm,” Crimson muses as he strides forward and turns around, shifting his eyes between both guards.

He scrutinizes both of them briefly, they’ve got that hard-ass attitude that he’s coming to know the Guard for. He catches that the guard on his left is an orange pegasus stallion with yellow eyes, and seen from his short-cut tail, white hair as well. He is wearing silver armor with golden details, and the crest on his helmet is white. Interestingly, his facial expression isn’t as severe as his comrade's, it even comes off kind of relaxed. The other guard to the right is a unicorn stallion wearing pure gold armor with a red crest.

“So which one of you two gets a bigger pay? I reckon it’s you in the gold. Gold's worth more than silver, right?” As expected, neither of them respond to him. “… Well, it’s yer lucky day, Goldilocks,” he says as he walks towards the gold-armored stallion. He stands before the guard, absorbing his entire field of vision. The other stallion in silver armor shifts his eyes to watch. "I'm willin' to bet I can get'cha to laugh."

“Unwanted physical contact with another individual is considered assault, human,” the guard in gold aggressively blurts.

Raising his brows in amusement, Crimson squats down, leveling his face with the stallion's. “Oho, I wasn't gonna tickle you or nothin', that's cheatin'. I was gonna do this.” He brings his right hand up to his face, pressing the nail of his middle finger against his thumb as if he was gonna flick something. His mouth forms a closed ‘o,’ and as soon as it does, he flicks his cheek and opens his mouth, causing an obnoxiously loud ‘puoah’ to resonate. The stallion flinches back slightly at the sound, and Crimson exhales sharply through his nose, smirking cheekily. “That was cool, right? Like a water drop in a cave. Want me to do it again?”

The guard stallion fixes his posture and huffs, returning to his preserved stance.

“That don’t sound like a no to me,” Crimson forms his mouth into a closed ‘o’ again and brings his flicking hand towards his cheek.

“Cease immediately,” the guard commands sternly.

“…” Crimson holds his hand next to his cheek. “…?”

“…” The guard squints.

…

… Puoah

“Hrh,” the guard leans forward, tilting his spear towards Crimson slightly.

The man moves back and lifts his hands, “Alright, alright. The water drop ain’t yer fancy, I get it. ... Mmm… what about acrobatics? You like acrobatics?”

The guard says nothing, returning his spear to its perfectly vertical position.

“Get a load’a this. This used to make my sister laugh every time.” Crimson steps back a few paces and turns around, giving the guard his back. He lifts his hands into the air, palms up, then leans forward and brings his legs up, kicking into a handstand. He balances himself artfully, tucking his head down to his chest to stare at the guard upside down. "I'd turn my world around, just... four... you," he crosses his legs to form the number four, then he extends his right leg forward, pointing his foot at the guard. The gold-armored stallion seldom entertains the performance. "Damn," Crimson smirks. "Thought I'd get you with that. You're pretty good at holdin' that face. Means you're good at yer job. I think that merits a round of applause," he says as he begins to clap the soles of his feet together.

The gold-armored stallion's lip quivers briefly, but his front fortifies itself again.

"Gah, almost had ya'," Crimson says pseudo-despondently. "... What about this." He tilts his right leg forward, leaving his foot hanging a few inches from the gold-armored guard's face, and he begins to wiggle his toes. The guard purses his lips and tilts his head away in disgust.

To the surprise of both Crimson and the golden-clad guard, an audible snicker comes from the stallion in silver armor off to the left. “Mm?” Crimson stops wiggling his toes, bringing his right leg back up. He looks over to the silver-armored guard, seeing that he has a fairly wide smirk on his face. Crimson proceeds to handstand walk like some sort of eldritch entity towards the snickering stallion, handstanding right in front of him. “There somethin’ funny, partner?”

The silver-guard chuckles with his mouth closed, failing to keep a straight face in the presence of whatever this man is currently doing. He looks down slightly to meet Crimson's blood-rushed face. “You should join the circus, ya’ bogan.”

"Is that a compliment?"

"You'd make it big in the industry with your talent."

Crimson grins. "I'll take that as a compliment then."

"You're an odd one, mate. You's the only talkin' human we've heard of, 'n you're a proper clown."

"A funny one or one of them creepy ones that stalk children?"

"Somethin' tells me you're the former."

“Really now,” Crimson says in surprise. He drops his legs forward, landing back onto his feet and standing straight up, then he turns himself around to face the silver-armored guard again. "Well color me impressed. I thought you pony guards were all museum pieces like that fella over there,” he points his right thumb to the guard in golden armor, who is currently looking over in spite. “I’m surprised to see you’ve got a sense of humor, rookie.”

The silver-guard’s smile doesn’t waver as he shakes his head, “Nah, mate. Rookie’s that lad over thea. Gold’s standard enlisted guard armor. I lead them wankas when Captain or First ain’t around.”

“You didn’t bother correctin’ me when I assumed Green-As-Grass over there was above you.”

“I am not green,” the golden-guard growls at Crimson, “I’ve been enlisted for a year and a half. If I was green, I wouldn’t have the privilege of Throne Watcher, a privilege that Second Lieutenant takes too lightly,” his scraggly voice resonates through the halls of the castle.

“Oy, pipe down, ya’ mongrel,” the silver-guard furrows his brows at him. “Don’t need Princess hearin’ up on us now.”

The golden-guard mumbles something under his breath and looks forward, gripping his pike more firmly.

The silver-guard returns his attention to the man, grinning again, “'N why’d I correct you ‘n give the chance for some entertainment away? Keepin’ me mouth shut let ol’ Corporal there get the hecklin’. Gotta say, he needs some work on keepin’ his cool.”

The golden-guard scoffs audibly.

“Can’t be too hard on ‘im,” the silver guard shrugs, “it’s his first week in stationary patrol as a Throne Watcher. It’ll be too soon when he realizes that this shit’ll get loads borin’. Any form of entertainment to break the mold's welcome t'me.”

“Glad I could be of assistance," Crimson tilts his head and crosses his arms over his chest. "Standin’ in one place don’t come off as too much fun.”

“You bet yer arse, especially when you've been at beatin' at the bugger for three years. Glad you showed up, mate. I like you. Who’m I havin’ the pleasure of?”

“Call me Crimson. Pleasure to meet’cha, mister Second Lieutenant.”

“Bulletpoint. Friends call me B.P, shorter than that mess. Got a question f'you, lad. ... You the one that cleaned staff sergeant's clock a few days back?”

"Talkin' about a guy I punched 'fore I got nabbed? Or the one I kicked?"

"Aah! So it was you! Left a knotty wallop on staff serg's head, ya did. 'N the first sergeant ya' kicked? Medical leave from a bruised liver. Gnarly shite, mate."

"They deserved it. 'Staff sergeant' fuckin' sprayed me with that canned chemical when I ain't even done nothin'. His fault I'm here to begin with."

"Ye, bloke always jumped the fence with that stuff. Thinkin' he sprayed his own pa' with it too. Heh, but you didn't hear that from me."

Crimson takes two fingers to zip up his lips.

"You gonna be ‘round Cantalot for long?"

After a brief silence, Crimson sighs, putting his hands into his cargo pants pockets. Bulletpoint sees the attitude of the man shift instantly, setting aside his lighthearted spirit. “... Not sure yet," the man explains. "Lot of shit goin' on as of this morn'.”

“Ah, I get'cha. ... Well, mate, ‘f you’s around 'n got nothin' on ya' list, head down to the fields behind the Castle. After trainin’ or patrol, catch me there ‘n we can fetch a pack'a stubbies. You’s seem like a fine bloke.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” Bulletpoint nods. Crimson rubs his forehead, turning his eyes away in thought. “Sure could use a drink. Reason I’m here right now is that there’s been wind of magic anomalies ‘r something like that. Dangerous. Killin' animals 'r somethin'.”

“Yeh, yeh! Heard about it, crazy fuckin’ shit with that. The Robes here at the Castle been in a tizzy. … Ah, speakin' of Robes!" his yellow irises beam suddenly. He leans in closer, prompting Crimson to do the same. "Moonlight!" Bulletpoint whispers into his ear, "that was her, wan't it? In the flesh! She’s back! Like she’s REALLY back! ‘N you were with ‘er!"

Crimson rears away from the stallion and nods. "Sure was. Reckon you know her."

"'Course I know 'er! We go way back, me, her, 'n a couple of other blokes from Cannalot."

"You know her personally then."

"Yeh, she made it in as a Robe the same year I entered the Guard. Old friends, we were. Her comin' back is pretty big news, ya feel. The Robes lost a valuable piece of the team when she left."

“Yeah, uh, 'bout that...” Crimson mutters as he glances around cautiously, “just keep this between you ‘n me, but I don’t think Moonlight wants folks to know that she’s… well… here yet. Reckon you've gotten the hint already, but... try to let yer friend in the gold there know that he should keep his mouth shut.”

Bulletpoint thinks on his words for a moment, then he exhales with a wry nod. “Yeh. Don’t blame the poor sheila. Whatever it was she gone through, it was case enough fer 'er to leave the city. Miss her like crazy.”

"I can imagine. All I can tell is that she's got a big fear of this place.”

“For a good reason, reckon. I ain’t knowin’ much of the details, but if anypony tries to give you their tale, tell ‘em to fuck off. The true story is held by Lighty ‘n Lighty alone. ‘F you wanna know what happened, I say you ask her yeself.”

“I'll dig in the details later, I just wanna know what happened to her."

“… Like I said mate, ask her. Wouldn't be right havin' anypony else pull that wool up. What I'll say is, what happened to Moonlight drove her away from Cantalot. That's sayin' somethin'. She loved this damn city. It's her home after all." His eyes shift away melancholically... before he glances firmly to Crimson again. "But, lad, with all this said... if I was you, I'd avoid tryn'a bring it up. Prolly ain't the best for her right now.”

"Don't worry, I was thinkin' the same thing."

"Right as. In time, mate, she'll prolly open up to ya. Somethin' about you rubs me the right way--"

The heavy golden doors to the throne room opening interrupts Bulletpoint, and with second nature kicking right in, he stops talking and immediately fixes his posture and expression. The doors swing wide, Crimson can see both ponies sitting next to each other on the red carpet at the far end of the throne room, with both of them staring back towards him.

Bulletpoint tilts his head, signaling the man to enter. Crimson keeps his face fixated on the mares ahead, walking forward into the throne room. The golden doors close behind him by the blue magic of the gold-armored stallion, isolating him inside with his objective. He continues his silent stride until he stands before both of them.

Celestia has Moonlight under her wing, coupled together like a mother shielding her daughter. Moonlight's hood had been pulled down, allowing her bloodshot eyes and tinted pink cheeks to be clearly seen. Crimson expected for her to drop some pent-up emotions upon seeing Celestia again, and even though he anticipated it, seeing her like this is driving a stake straight through his heart. It seems that she's done crying though, only drying tears and sniffles remain from her release. Her glasses are also missing from her face, they lie on the carpet in between both her and the princess.

"We meet again, dear Crimson," Celestia speaks softly, smiling at him in a way only a caretaker could. "Moonlight has given me your name. Is it fine with you if I call you by it?"

He nods, "By all means, princess." He keeps his gaze focused on Moonlight, he assumes she's not quite ready to compose herself just yet, as she rests her glistening eyes on the ground instead of looking back at him. He shifts his attention to the sun goddess, "Didn't take too long, did it?"

"For you to return to me?" Celestia smiles a bit wider when she asks, receiving a nod from the man. "I, too, was surprised when I received Moonlight's letter yesterday evening. It happened much sooner than I had anticipated."

"You 'anticipated' this?" Celestia nods at his question. "... You knew that sendin' me to Moonlight would make her come back to Canterlot?"

"Not for the reasons you would expect. The moment I saw you in the formation, I knew you were special... just... not this sort of special. My initial thought process was that Moonlight wouldn't have the proper resources to study a human such as yourself at her home."

"But I thought Moonlight already studied humans back at her house. Them rocks I lifted, didn't you say other humans lifted 'em too, Moonlight?"

Moonlight's eyes move to him, but then return to the ground once Celestia speaks up for her, "She did study humans before, but not at her home. Those rocks were a few of many, and they were once property of the Canterlot Castle Gardens, but upon Moonlight finding a new use for them, I allowed her to keep them for her future endeavors... including endeavors that would occur away from Canterlot. I knew she always had an interest in humans, but I was never able to find one that I felt would best fit her. ... Seven years later, here we are."

"... Seven... years..." Moonlight murmurs dejectedly.

Crimson crosses his arms, thinking deeply before speaking up, "You had this all planned out from the beginning."

Celestia nods. "There were many subtle attempts in the past to get Moonlight to return, but she always found a way to keep herself put. No matter how I felt, I would never disrespect the wishes of my pride and joy. Having her willingly return was the only option. Now that she has, she may continue her marvels in magic study without limitation."

"Couldn't start to imagine the possibilities," Crimson ponders aloud. "Just catchin' sight of that magic box in her bedroom was somethin' else."

"O-Oh," Moonlight stutters, giving him a forming smile. "M-My... ANA."

Celestia giggles eloquently. "Ah, yes, ANA. I remember that construct. Even though you sent the blueprint to our Researchers, they have yet to figure out how it build it." She tucks Moonlight closer to her, slipping her forehoof out of its golden slipper to caress the little unicorn's mane. "And you," she looks towards the man. "Crimson. You have my infinite thanks for guiding Moonlight back to Canterlot so quickly."

"I want what's best for her and her work," he states. "Reckon this place is better than any for that."

"Your consideration for Moonlight knows only my gratitude, Crimson... though," she looks away dismissively, "I do hope you are prepared to give Moonlight the aid she requires." The man furrows his brows, remaining silent to let her elaborate. "As I had said, I am thankful Moonlight has returned so soon, more-so in the face of an anomalous danger, but I urge you to understand the situation you now find yourself in. Because you are a being of sapience and free will, you are no longer forced to remain at Moonlight's side as her property. I will grant you citizenship of Equestria, and you may live among us as long as you prove cautious to those around you. You have already caused one incident with the Royal Guard. I hope it does not happen again."

"Yeah. Long as yer kind treats me as an equal, we won't have another scrap."

"A mutual agreement." Her eyes trail down towards Moonlight, who is still leaving her gaze placed on the carpet below. "If you wish to stay at Moonlight's side, you will agree to give your mind and body for her and her team. There are few I can entrust with the duty of keeping my Royal Researchers safe, and I will not leave them in the hooves of incompetence. If this does not appeal to you, you are free to walk away."

The words spoken by Celestia visibly distraught Moonlight. Crimson sees it in her shimmering orbs. She is looking up at him, like an innocent younger sibling whose parent is demanding the older sibling to play together. He now gives the princess a stern glare. "What kind of dangers do y'all go up against?" Moonlight's ears to perk up.

"On-field threats, such as bandits, thieves, raiders and the like are the most prominent dangers. Other hazards include the environment or animals. Domestic threats are few, but should not be dismissed. Decoys, assassins, burglars. You will be required to be attentive to your surroundings even at your home turf. The Royal Guard is quick to inform, and even quicker to react."

"This imply I'll have to join yer Guard if I wanna stay with Moonlight?"

"No. You do not have to officially join the Guard, but you are expected to abide by their orders, just as any other citizen of Canterlot. If you will be assisting Moonlight in her work, you will be around them often."

"Understood."

"Then, do you agree to give yourself into servitude of the Royal Consortium, the body that encompasses Equestria? Along with the benefits and responsibilities of such a position?"

"I agree," he states fully resolute. "I'll do my part in keepin' Moonlight safe, you can count on it. But I'll need a place to stay, reckon there's a place 'round here that's good for that."

"I've already restored Moonlight's ownership of her old room, which lies in the first floor annex of the East Tower. The annex has compartment rooms accommodated for residence. You may stay there, which I recommend. Residing there, you will always be nearby should Moonlight require something."

"Sounds good."

"The paperwork one usually signs when joining the Consortium workforce shall be handled for you, given the special circumstances. If any changes occur to your employment, you will be notified via signed letter from me."

"Got it."

Celestia nods. "Then, I have duties I must now attend to. Moonlight shall show you to your room. Be aware that your duties of servitude begin as of now, and you shall be compensated accordingly every fortnight. ... And as for you, Moonlight," Celestia removes her wing from around her, shifting herself to face the little unicorn directly.

"It brings me so much joy to finally have you back. If I could cherish you in this moment forever, I would. I can only hope that you remain here... with me. The last thing I would ever want is to lose you again." Sniffling, Moonlight simply nods. "Are you certain that you do not want help with settling into your room? You need not fumble with those dusty boxes, dearest. I can assign five maids to accommodate you immediately." Moonlight timidly shakes her head. "... The offer is still open. If there is anything else you need at all, do not hesitate to ask." Celestia levitates Moonlight's glasses up, placing them gently onto her face. Moonlight's trembling lips form a solemn smile, the anxiety swallowing her is repressed into the shadows by the warm light that is her mentor's embrace... but only for the moment.

Once they separate and Moonlight is tasked with slogging her emotionally heavy body to her room, everything feels cold again. The halls feel everything but inviting.

‎

~~~<

‎

After another trail through the expanses of the Canterlot Castle, Crimson and Moonlight step through an arch way that leads into the bottom floor of the East Tower. Just outside this room is a staircase that leads up to the rest of the tower, but down on the first floor is where they venture. This spacious rotunda-like annex is shaped like an octagon, with three wood doors on each side, totaling to six, and one larger, decorated, blue double-door on the opposite side of the arch way entrance. It looks like another royal chamber with doors like that, all spruced up and detailed.

Moonlight checks her surroundings, cautious for any on-lookers. She slips off her hood with her magic once she assures no one else but Crimson is around. "Well... we're here."

"Looks like it."

"... Um... C-Crimson?"

"Mm?" he turns his head to look down at her.

"... I-If you don't mind me asking... why did you decide to stay with me? Even after Celestia told you it wasn't required?"

"Thought I wouldn't?"

"... I'm... I'm just curious."

"Be honest, Moonlight. I'd like nothin' more than to know what you're thinkin'."

She adjusts her glasses to give herself a moment to collect her thoughts. "... It's that... there was no reason for you to accept the task. Celestia gave you citizenship of Equestria. Worse than that, there's potential danger in the line of work that you're taking on being with me."

"Danger or no danger, there's a simple reason why I'm stickin' by your side."

"Th--... There is?"

"Yuppers. It's that I care about you, Moonlight. I wouldn't just wave goodbye 'n book it first chance I got. We're a team now."

"B-But, dangers, Crimson. Dangers! How can you put yourself in danger for me when you've only known me for a short time?"

"A short time is all I needed to see that you're good at heart. Call me whatever you want, I still believe you're someone who's worth the risk." His words manage to bring out a bashful smile from her, but it seems that she is having a hard time trying to respond to them. Crimson looks forward, towards the fancy doors. To break the silence, he speaks up again. "I take it your room's the one with the doors colored like you?" he asks, looking down at her again, seeing her nod in response. "Think you could give me a tour?"

"I-It's nothing to admire at the moment. If nothing has changed since I left, it's just a bunch of packed-up things inside boxes."

"Well, hey, I could help you unpack. Get everythin' situated for you in half the time." Moonlight smiles wryly, nodding again at his offer. He discretely notices that she accepted his help but not the maids. This fact alone makes him simper in return.

She walks to the elegant doors, levitating a long blue metal key out from the inside of her robe and slipping it into the padlock that binds both handles. Once undone, she levitates the lock and key back towards herself, then she envelops the doors with her magic, opening them simultaneously inwards. The doors groan in protest at being bothered from their prolonged stagnation, but they open without a hitch.

The inside is illuminated only by the sunlight punching through a massive window at the top of the room, shining rays of light that highlight the dust particles that dance in the air. Crimson sees that this hardly a room, but instead an entire observatory. It is incredibly spacious, with a ceiling that extends incredibly high. There are two floors to this room, where the second floor is more of a large balcony that overlooks the first floor. As Moonlight had said, there are boxes stacked on top of each other all over the place, with very few objects still set out rather than packed up. A few ground-mounted desks with sinks sit on the first floor, and the most prominent feature in the room, a sizable telescope that aims at the window panels on the second floor.

Moonlight looks around timidly, a rush of old memories come back to her all at once. Nothing has moved since she left, and she even assumes that the door hadn't even been opened at all once the guard had locked it seven years ago. This grand room, left unused and abandoned, waited for its rightful owner to return.

Crimson stands at her side, putting fists on his hips. He intentionally snaps her out of her musing by speaking. "This place is huge."

"Um... y-yes, it's... quite something."

"Why do them tables have sinks? Those're sinks, right?"

"Yes, they're lab tables. M-My room is... kind of like a second laboratory."

"This was where you mainly worked?"

"N-- No. As nice as that would be, Royal Researchers are required to go to the research labs to do work. But after my day was finished, I'd return to my room and perform my own experiments just for fun."

"'Just for fun?'" he chuckles, looking up to the second floor. "... What's up there, with that big ol' spyglass?"

"My bedroom. You can't see it from here, but there's a bed, some closets... things like that."

"That's one hell'uva window up there. Bet you get a real good view of the stars at night usin' that thing."

"... It's one thing that I missed from this place."

Crimson looks around, bouncing his eyes between all of the brown, dusty boxes that litter the room. "Got a lot of unpackin' to do, huh?"

"There were a lot of things I couldn't take with me..."

Crimson walks forward, picking up a box that sits next to a lab table and setting it on top. He turns to face Moonlight, leaning against the lab table and patting the box, smiling as he says, "Feel like gettin' started?"

Moonlight exhales deeply through her nose, smiling back at him and nodding. She levitates a seemingly random box over to herself, getting it open and taking out something from inside. Crimson sees that she got out two white face masks, offering one to him while placing the other onto herself.

‎‎ ‎

~~~<

‎ ‎

Crimson wipes his forehead, clearing it of dust and sweat. He places one last graduated cylinder out onto the left-most lab desk, in between several other flasks and measuring beakers. He aligns it perfectly, with the side marked in milliliters facing the front, just as the others are. Moonlight's instructions are starting to become habit.

Moonlight herself is sweeping up some clumps of dust, magically manipulating a brush and a dust pan to pick up the final remnants of dead cells that polluted the air.

Crimson sighs in satisfaction, looking around at the handiwork put in by both of them. After a whole afternoon of cleaning, picking stuff up and taking stuff out of boxes, new life has been breathed into the room. It looks completely new, as if it was finished being constructed yesterday and polished today.

Crimson feels comfortable in here now that everything is set up. His favorite part is the decorations placed way up in the ceiling; dangling stars and moons on nearly-invisible strings that softly glow and shift to different colors. They'd be much more visible in the dark now since the day has been traded in for the night, but Moonlight turned on the lights to the room as the sun went down.

Moonlight had been multitasking with her cunning magic, mixing her cleaning and dusting with unpacking and placing. She didn't even need to look in order to put things in their place, like she already knew where everything went. Crimson found himself smiling when he was watching her move everything so naturally. Of course she already knew where everything went, this is her room, along with everything that she owned. This, of course, does not include the things she left behind in her home outside of Baltimare, but he assumes it was not a lot since there was so much to unpack.

Crimson pulls down the damp white face mask that protected him from the floating grey menace, letting him finally whiff at fresh air. He watches Moonlight now, seeing her carefully sweep the last few clumps of dust into the pan, sending the grey collection into a trash bag that she's been filling up the entire time.

He didn't exchange many words with her during their cleaning session, other than asking her where she wanted something placed. He did ask her whether she could get the maids from the castle to help out, or even do the cleaning for them, and while Moonlight said she could, she would rather clean herself. It did not surprise him that she would want to do the cleaning herself, considering the spotless state that her other home was in. It was incredibly convenient that her room had its own supply closet, filled with several-year-old janitorial equipment that was somehow still usable.

Besides, it was nice to get to do something with Moonlight, specially something that she seems to enjoy. She looked so focused and confident while tending to her room, it is almost like she forgot she was in Canterlot.

Moonlight removes her face mask and tosses it into the dust-filled trash bag. She glances over to Crimson, seeing that he is leaning against a lab table and watching her with his own mask down. "Mask, please?" she asks while looking at it.

Crimson reaches up and takes his mask off from under his chin, tossing it up and towards Moonlight.

She catches it in the air with her magic and levitates it into the trash bag. With a methodical spin of the bag, she ties it up and sets it down next to the doors of the room. "Whew. Finished."

"We make a good team," Crimson opines playfully.

"I concur," she replies amidst a giggle, looking at the man's form up and down, then down at herself. "We are certainly a mess."

"We sure are. Pretty usual fer me, 'cept it's usually dirt 'n mud and not dust. There some place we can get cleaned up? I recall there bein' a bath house in the Castle... somewhere."

"If I remember correctly, it closes at nine."

"Time is it?" Crimson asks as he looks towards the comically large, ten-foot tall circular hand-clock that Moonlight mounted above the doorway to the room. It ticks with a surprisingly docile sound for its size. "Dagnabbit. Nine thirty. Just missed it."

"Oh, that's okay. There's a shower bath here in my room. Just upstairs," she points her hoof towards the second floor.

"This room really does have everythin', doesn't it."

"Just about," Moonlight admits bashfully. She waves him with her hoof to follow her, and he leans off the lab table to do so. They ascend the carpeted staircase, heading up to the 'bedroom' section of this humongous dwelling. The rest of the second floor is carpeted as well, in contrast to the standard marble floor found downstairs and nearly everywhere else in the Castle. Moonlight had already furnished her sleeping space with the contents she had stored in the boxes up here, which contained her bed sheets, pillows, some changes of rather fancy clothing, and other personal commodities, such as a killer whale plushy named Soap that now rests on the middle of the bed.

"That room there," Moonlight says while looking at a slightly opened door on the wall next to the staircase. She opens the door and flicks on the lights with her magic, presenting the freshly-dusted and cleaned tile bathroom. "I set out some bottles of shampoo and soap that I bought but never opened. Please feel free to pick which ever one you like."

"Appreciate it, but you go right ahead 'n get yourself cleaned up first. I can bask in my musk for a little longer."

Moonlight nods thankfully, making haste towards the bathroom and closing the door behind her. Crimson already figured she wants out of her grimy state as soon as possible, more-so than he does.

He watches the closed bathroom door for a moment longer before turning around and resting his eyes on the bedroom. He finds the entire design of this room odd, yet appealing. He walks forward, being careful not to touch anything with his dirty self, moving along the right side of the bed, in front of the standing closets that hold her posh clothing.

He makes his stop by the balcony, that which peers off to the first floor of the room. He has a great view of the three lab tables, the entrance to the room, the wall clock, and pretty much everything that isn't directly under the second floor balcony. All of this was made just for her.

Crimson's tired eyes bounce between different parts of the room, looking, but not seeing. The surrealness of the entire situation is overtaking him as it first did when he arrived, causing him to trail off in thought. He still isn't sure how he got to this land, and he isn't sure how he's gonna get back to Earth, but as long as he's here, he's going to try and make it count.

For now, he attempts to piece together some sort of plan to return to Earth. Some type of idea that will guide him home as he works with the Guard and Moonlight. He thinks generally on this situation, and the first thing that pops into his mind is...

... "Dahlia."

He wondered if he'd even have the time to think about this, but here it is. And he does not like how it feels.

The guilt he feels for having effectively abandoned Dahlia is chewing his conscious. He knows he should set aside some time to look for her, or try to present the idea in general to Moonlight. Though, judging by her reaction at simply Dahlia's mention, the thought of spend time and resources to do this would not turn out well in his eyes. The back-tickling feeling that the Consortium is not truly on his side yet hovers over him.

"You will give your mind and your body," Crimson thinks to himself morosely. A ray of light dawns upon him, settling one single idea in his mind. "This is all movin' so fast..."

"..." Crimson looks down at himself, noticing that at some point, he started leaning on the railing of the balcony. "... Shit," he utters, leaning off of it to see that his arms got dust on the rail. He reaches his hand to wipe the dust, but realizing that his hands are grubby, he stops. He squints at the two splotches of dust he left with hatred.

The door to the bathroom opens. Crimson looks back quickly with wide eyes, failing to have heard the shower turn off. Moonlight steps out with a towel around her mane, keeping her eyes focused on the carpet under her.

"Moonlight, I, uh," Crimson starts, admitting to his crime, "I accidentally left a mark on the rail here."

"... That's okay," she responds halfheartedly. "I'll get it in the morning."

Crimson's brows furrow, watching her move sluggishly towards her bed and climb onto it. It looks like her enthusiasm plank-dived right to ground floor. The Moonlight that walked into the bathroom and the Moonlight that came out are two different beings.

"Go ahead and shower, if you'd like," she calls simply, laying down on her side and hugging the killer whale plushy.

"... Somethin' the matter, Moonlight?"

"... Just a little tired. The left shower nob is for the warm water."

Keeping his eyes focused on her, he walks over to the side of the bed, standing at her side. Her half-lidded pink orbs stare into the void, briefly shifting to look at him when he appears in her view. "Is Soap gonna keep you safe while I'm showering?"

She nods. "He always has. ... I missed him a lot." Her voice is muffled as she speaks against the plush in her arms.

"Good to see old friends back together again."

She shuffles in place, burying herself deeper against the plushy. "... There's a red towel I hung on the shower door. That one is for you."

With concern in his expression, Crimson nods in acknowledgement and steps off towards the restroom, keeping his eyes on her until she leaves his peripheral.
‎

‎ ‎

~~<

‎ ‎

‎
After a thorough cleaning session in a very posh and comfortable shower, Crimson gets himself dry with the maroon-colored towel that was set out for him, then he gets his messy, torn up cargo shorts back on. He did his best to dust them and throw away all the particles that flew off, but it definitely needs a thorough cleaning soon. They're starting to smell like... sweat and jungle.

He slips his sandals back on, then he examines himself in the slightly foggy mirror. He uses his nails to slide his hair back, and after a quick self-inspection, he goes for the restroom door.

... Moonlight's asleep already. Her glasses are titled along her face, being pressed on by the side squished in between her head and the bed.

Knowing that she has a tendency to shift quite a lot in her sleep, Crimson takes it upon himself to keep her glasses safe. He walks over to her and crouches down at her side, reaching in with both hands to gently slide her oculars off without causing too much disruption. She hardly even noticed. Crimson stands up and places her glasses on the nightstand closest to him.

He gazes at the little mare despondently, forced to repress his worry for her until the morning. She wasn't acting herself just before she fell asleep, and he safely assumes it happened when she started showering. Being alone with nothing but one's own thoughts can be dangerous, as he knows too well. Whatever it is that she's keeping in another shell, Crimson will try to crack it tomorrow.

Right now, sleep is what she needs. She was woken up much earlier than usual, and the nap she got in during the carriage ride probably wasn't good enough. Without wanting to disturb her or invite himself unexpectedly, Crimson opts for letting Moonlight have her own bed tonight.

He directs himself down the staircase and towards the doors to her room, hearing nothing but the clap of his own sandals against the marble floor. He grips the right door's cold handle and pulls it open. Surprisingly, it's light and easy to move, and it isn't emitting the obnoxious creaking that it did when Moonlight first opened it earlier.

Once open, Crimson throws one last glance towards the second floor. He can't even see her from down here, but his mind recalls what she looked like before he stepped down.

He reaches for the light switch panel next to the doors, flicking them down and turning off the lights to the quarter. The glow-in-the-dark star and moon decorations hanging from above shimmer beautifully, just as he expected them to. He can't help but admire them for a moment.

He steps out into the rotunda, closing the door behind himself. He glances between the six doors that Celestia had offered as residence to him. He doesn't give it too much thought, picking the door to the right, closest to Moonlight's room. He opens the light wooden door and pushes it in, scrutinizing the inside. The light of the hallway illuminates the darkness from inside, accompanied by the weaker moonlight ushering in a sleepy blue hue from a window to the right of the bed.

A bed, a standing closet, one nightstand, and a desk with drawers. By anyone else in Canterlot, the standards of this room are rather basic, but to Crimson, this room is luxury. The unnecessary amount of decals and furnishings on furniture and walls is off-putting to him, but since he isn't losing anything staying here, he can't complain.

He steps in and closes the door behind him, cancelling his main source of light to give the moon it's sleepy-blue reign, amplified by the purples and blues of the room's color design. Without much else to keep him, he kicks off his sandals and leaps into bed. It bounces him quite a bit before settling down and keeping still.

He puts his hands on the back of his head and stares up at the high ceiling, letting his mind put down tracks for random trains of thought. He isn't sure what tomorrow has in store, but he's ready to tackle whatever comes towards him. He's sure it's better than being in a collar.

The Robes

~ The Weave, Crimson's Rift ~<

‎

"... Already?" Viola asks, looking up at her brother with a frown. As they sit together on the staircase of the porch to their home in the Rift, she squeezes his arm tighter, unwilling to let him go.

"Yeah. I can hear birds chirpin' outside the window." He looks down into her beautifully-glowing golden iris, smiling tenderly at her. "I'll be back before you know it." He plants a kiss onto her forehead, one that sends shivers throughout her entire body as the warmth of his embrace suddenly fades.

With a crestfallen sigh, she couples her knees up to her chest, hugging them and bracing herself to fight off the incoming isolation.

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, East Tower First Floor ~<‎
February 2nd, Monday, 9:12

‎

Crimson's eyes crack open unevenly, burning from exhaustion and sleep deprivation. He knows staying in the Rift to spend time with his sister does not give his physical body rest in the waking world, much less sleep, but every second spent with her is a treasure he would never trade for the best sleep in the world.

Besides, he knows he can hardly sleep properly anyway. This bed that he is currently in, with all of its thick and plush blankets and pillows, did not have the effect he thought they would. The only good night of sleep he has had recently was in Moonlight's bed back at her home, and that in itself was a pleasant surprise. He finds it strange that this bed feels very similar to that of Moonlight's. Maybe they are the same type, considering Celestia's subjects constructed Moonlight's home and probably furnished it. Something about Moonlight's bed just felt... different.

He decides that he's stayed laying down for long enough. With a big yawn and some kicks to stretch his legs, he rises from the bed and rubs his tired eyes. He slips into his sandals and wiggles his toes to make sure they're on firmly.

The sun punches through the window of his room, illuminating him and his body with its incandescent glow. Curious, he steps towards the window to see what lies outside of it. Even though he is considered to be on the first floor of the Eastern Tower, the room he is in is elevated quite a distance from the ground outside. Other parts of the Castle which tower into the sky block some of his view to the left, but he has a good view of a grassy field to the right, where a bunch of equipment and obstacles are placed throughout the yard. It appears to be the Royal Guard's training field, most obviously indicated by the guards themselves who are down there, some wearing their armor and some wearing only grey shirts.

With enough sightseeing, he turns for the mirror that sits above a drawer cabinet, eyeing himself as he fixes his hair with his fingers. He then heads for the door and makes his exit, closing it behind him and stepping out into the rotunda. He hears distant movement and chatter from other parts of the Castle, but the rotunda itself is quiet and undisturbed.

Crimson fixes his attention on the regal blue doors that enter Moonlight's room. He is not sure what time it is, but he assumes Moonlight is still asleep.

He walks to her doors and clicks open the right one, opening it and peeking inside. The room is illuminated only by sunlight, giving its usual sleepy-blue appearance an amber color. He doesn't see any signs of movement from the lower floor, and all of the flasks he placed on the lab desks are untouched. Looks like she's still asleep.

He steps in and closes the door gently, heading towards the other end of the room where the staircase is. As he moves towards the stairs, he glances up at the big wall-clock behind him to see it reads about nine twenty-five. It isn't terribly late, but it certainly isn't early either.

He walks up to the second floor and focuses on the bed, exactly where the little blue unicorn rests. She didn't even get under the covers. She is sleeping on top of the sheets, hugging Soap firmly as if he was going to get up and run away. Her softly sleeping air breathes the essence of pure innocence. He finds it a shame he has to to bother her. She cannot be sleeping in as late as she used to.

Crimson steps towards the bed, sitting down at its side and reaching his hand to Moonlight. He gently caresses her mane, and she responds by tucking her chin into her chest, hiding her face behind her plush. It looks like she isn not fully asleep right now, more-so resting with her eyes closed.

"Mornin', Moonlight," he calls softly to her.

"Hnn," she huffs, wanting anything but to have to get up.

"Rise 'n shine."

"... The maid isn't even here yet," she weakly mumbles.

"The maid?" he echoes, retreating his hand from her head.

"Mhmm... the maid. What time is it?"

"It's almost nine thirty."

"... She should be here any second," she sighs into her plushy.

With miraculous timing, a knock is heard downstairs on Moonlight's door. Crimson's brows raise, impressed at the codified event. Looks like she's aware that she can't be sleeping in, she was just waiting for her own version of an alarm clock.

"Could you get that for me, please?" Moonlight moves her head to reveal her right eye from behind the plush, looking at him.

"Sure thing," he nods and rises from the bed, heading downstairs to respond to the door. He opens it and looks down at the pony who had knocked.

"Gud morning, miz Moonlaait! Breakfast iz--"

Crimson's eyes widen at the sight of the mare who wears maid attire and is delivering breakfast on a metal shelved trolley. "... Kimi?"

The lavender-maned mare's eyes nearly pop out of her sockets. Kimi stares up at the man completely befuddled, looking as if she's about to faint. Her cheeks redden deeply as she tries to speak, "Ha-I, ha-I..."

Crimson smiles and rubs the back of his neck, bashfully chuckling, "Well, now. Good to see you again."

"Y-You ztill remember my naame!" she whispers excitedly, barely loud enough to be heard by him.

"Of course I do. I remember everythin'."

Her eyes tremble as she registers his words. Her mouth opens to speak, to give an excuse of some sort, but in her stupor and apprehension, nothing seems to be coming out.

"You did a great job," he smirks. "My hair's never smelled so good."

"Ho-uy, I-I..." she stops trying to fumble words and inhales sharply, letting the breath out slowly, "Thank yu. If is okei fo' me to azk... were you... healthy? In ze head?'"

"Ah. Yeah. Guess you can say I wasn't. I got sprayed with some sorta purple bottle that them guards have before you took me in."

"Hooo," Kimi coos in realization, piecing together why he wasn't as responsive and aware back then as he is right now, having made it easy to mistake him for a dumber human. "Ze 'mimis' potion. Zat explains much to me now."

"Regardless of what happened to me, I'm glad you had the courage to do what you love," he crosses his arms with the same grin. "Despite what yer sisters think."

She slowly internalizes what he says, causing a wobbly, terribly blushing smile to form on her face. "Ehehehe~" she looks away, giggling like a school-filly.

"Say, I thought you were a spa pony or whatever you call 'em. What're you doin' dressed up like a maid? You look nice in them clothes, but I'm just curious."

"I-I," she clears her throat, composing herself as best she can, "I-I svitched pozitions. A-After our... night togeza, I finally realized zat my zisters and I ver not meant to be in ze same vorking room. I gained ze courage to speak against zem zat night, and zats when I spoke to Celescha aftawards. Zea was a need for anaza maidpony, a-and I took ze job as soon as I could!"

"Stellar. How's bein' a maid workin' out for you?"

"Iz sooo match betta zan bein' a spa pony! I do miss being wif za humans, bat dis is match betta overall. I don't have do deal wif my zistas anymoa."

"Glad to hear it. Your sisters were givin' you quite a lot of shit for no good reason."

"Zey do it because I'm ze younga one..."

"Really? That's the reason why?" She nods in response to his disapproval. "Damn. I hate to be rude, but yer sisters are kind of, uh..."

"Betchez?"

"Heh, yeah. Bitches. Take pride knowin' you're better than 'em, instead of droppin' to their level. Don't you ever let anyone tell you you're worth less than you really are."

She nods happily, keeping her eyes resting at his feet as the warmth in her heart builds from his words. "... I-It iz veri nice to see yu again. A-Are you... going to be around ze Cantelot for a while--?"

Suddenly, a little bell attached to her chest on her uniform glows with white magic and it rings itself, causing her to jump slightly in realization, "Hoh! Ze breakfast!" She looks up to him, smiling timidly and bowing slightly as she backpedals, "I-I'm sorri, but I mast go now. Otha breakfasts await otha ponies! Please leave ze cart hea when you'a done! Anoza maid vill get it for you!"

"Got'cha. Thanks, Kimi. It was great seein' you again too."

She nods quickly and turns to trot off, but then freezes in place. She turns her head back toward him, calling humbly, "I-I neva got yoa name."

"Crimson," he salutes her with two fingers.

"... Crimsun," she repeats to herself warmly, a smile slowly grows on her face as she makes haste off and away.

Crimson pulls the cart which contains two cloche serving dishes and two glasses of orange liquid, assuming one to be for him and one for Moonlight. He closes the door and turns around--

"Woh!" he recoils, nearly bumping into Moonlight as she was standing incredibly close.

"Who was that?" Moonlight asks somewhat firmly.

"One of the Castle's maids. She stopped by to bring breakfast, just like you said. I actually know her. Crazy bumpin' into her like this."

"Already making friends, are we?" Moonlight asks with a wry smile, using her horn to levitate the serving dishes and the cup with orange liquid onto the closest lab table in the middle.

"Yeah, guess you can say that. She knew yer name too, so I reckon you know her."

"She didn't look familiar," Moonlight shakes her head. "Celestia must have given her my name."

"Ah," Crimson scratches the back of his head, feeling a little pressed by Moonlight's very interested look. "So, uh, what's fer breakfast?"

"Today is Monday, so that would lead me to assume pancakes and eggs."

"Sounds great right about now. Is that orange drink there tangerine juice?"

"Indeed it is."

"Damn. Talk about bein' a favorite."

"Celestia remembers too many things about me."

"Ain't that a good thing?"

"... Sometimes." Moonlight takes a stool, prompting Crimson to do the same. They sit down on the lab table as they open up their cloche covers and set them aside.

The aroma of the food tickles Crimson's nose. The syrup used to coat these smiley-face strawberry pancakes with whipped cream smells delectable. He takes the fork and knife that rests on the sides of the food and he digs in.

Moonlight uses her horn to manipulate her utensils, eating very cleanly and regally. It seems that Canterlot etiquette quite hasn't left her yet, even if she had spent many years away from it.

She notices that Crimson is staring at her with a goofy smile as he eats, drawing mild disconcert into her. "... Is... is there something on my face?" she blushes slightly, putting her left hoof onto her cheek.

"Nah, nah, you're fine. Just find it kind'a funny." She tilts her head curiously, allowing him to continue. "You're here knowin' the exact time the maids were gonna show up, and you know your way around the Castle. Not much has changed since you left, huh?"

"It looks that way," Moonlight says as she stabs a piece of pancake. "But it makes sense. Why would the Princess change a system that works?"

"Good point. Don't fix what ain't broke. We're better for it too, so we can get started sooner rather than later. What's the plan today, miss Wish?"

"... Today..." she begins, pondering one last thought before continuing, "... today, I need to ask you a favor."

"Shoot."

"Before anything can get started, I need to rebuild my ANA device. I wasn't able to bring my original with us, and going to retrieve it would take an unnecessary amount of planning with the Royal Consortium to get us a transport carriage booked. So I'm going to remake it, and possibly better this time. The two things lacking for that are the blueprint and maybe the materials. I'm certain I have the materials here in my room, but I still need the blueprint."

"Can't you just whip one up real quick?"

"The ANA's blueprint is an amalgamation of years of planning and pieces. Some of the finer details that make it function I have forgotten. I could try to remake another blueprint from scratch using the major parts that I remember then substitute the things I don't, but that would take too long. It would be preferable if I had my original plan... if that's okay with you. Y-You don't have to get it if you don't want to..."

"It ain't no problem, girly. Be happy to fetch it fer you. I just thought you said it'd take forever planning with the Royal whatevers to get a carriage."

"Oh! No-no, I'm very sorry I wasn't clear. The blueprint is here, in the Castle."

"Aaah. Yeah. I remember Celestia sayin' something about the Robes bein' unable to figure out your blueprint."

"... Th... The Robes?" Moonlight asks incredulously. "Who taught you that?"

"A guard I met while you 'n Celestia were havin' yer talk. His name's Bulletpoint."

"Oh!" she jumps in surprise. "Oh my goodness! Y-You spoke to him?"

"Yeah, while you 'n Celestia were havin' a moment. He noticed you but didn't mention it until I got him talkin'. Says he missed you a great deal."

The little unicorn visibly deflates. But before Crimson could ask what is wrong, she looks to him with a plastic smile a chuckles. "He, um... he likes to drink a lot. I wonder if he still drinks while on duty."

Crimson digests her demeanor, understanding the distance she is trying to put in the subject. He smiles half-heartedly in return. "Well, if I had his job, I think I'd be the same. ... So, where can I find the blueprint?"

"In the labs of the Royal Researchers. I'll give you some directions on a piece of paper that you can follow to get there, as well as a few other locations in the Castle that might be useful to you."

"Wait. If the blueprint is in the research labs, why can't you come with me?"

"... Re... Reasons," Moonlight quickly stuffs a piece of pancake into her mouth.

Crimson rests his right elbow on the table, leaning his head on his knuckles to look at Moonlight to his left. "Are the reasons for that the same reasons you wore that floppy hood around all day yesterday?"

Moonlight chews on her food slowly, looking down at her plate with a guilty face.

"Moonlight, you're gonna need to show yourself to others at some point. I'm pretty sure half of the Castle already knows you're here. And I reckon you've got some friends out there that miss you mightly."

After swallowing her food, Moonlight huffs, "It's... that..." Crimson raises his brows, waiting for her to continue. Moonlight turns to face him with her ears falling to her head. "Please, just give me a little time to sort myself out."

Crimson nods in understanding, taking the last of his egg into his mouth.

"... A-And could you do me another favor while you're headed to the labs?" He looks at her again as he chews, prompting her to continue. "The Royal Researchers. I, um... i-it's been a while since I've been here, and I don't know if our lineup changed. ... Could... you get the names of the ponies there when you see them?"

Crimson nods again, swallowing his food and gulping down the last of his juice. With a satisfied sigh, he sits up from his stool. "Righty'o. Just hand me them directions and I'll be on my way. You gonna be here at your lonesome while I'm out?"

"I will, but that's okay. I need to get materials situated and measured, so I'll need to be focused." She uses her magic to open a drawer on the lab table and take out a quill, inkwell, and a sheet of paper. "Hopefully they haven't changed the design of the Castle or anything while I was gone," she murmurs as she sketches out the directions to the labs.

‎

~~~<

‎

Venturing through the Castle is easier than he expected it to be. Aside from being constantly stared at and avoided to an extent, the ponies that wander these grandiose halls are aware of his presence, making his life a bit easier. He isn't sure if word spread by Celestia's mouth or by the living chatterbox that is Canterlot's high-society, but he is completely fine with the exposure.

As he walks through a set of archways, he looks up and down from the piece of paper that Moonlight gave him, matching the structures in the doodle to his surroundings. "Looks like the place."

This section of the Castle dedicated to the Royal Researchers is one long hallway with a massive, actively-rotating gyroscope at the end, standing before a long rectangular window that allows sunlight to beam behind it and cast a constantly shifting shadow into the hall. Along the sides of this large hall, several more rooms without any sort of door are placed evenly throughout the left and the right, each room being a lab of its own tasked with a different set of studies and tools.

Crimson doesn't see any of the researchers as of this moment, assuming they're probably inside the rooms doing whatever it is that they do. He pockets Moonlight's sketch and he walks towards the first room on the right, peeking in through the open archway.

He sees a unicorn mare, with pink hair and a yellow coat, sitting by herself at a lab table using her yellow magic to write into a scroll. She looks quite serious, contrasting her very bright and lighthearted appearance. She wears a hooded robe similar to Moonlight's, silver in color rather than dark blue.

Crimson knocks on the frame of the archway to get her attention unobtrusively.

"I already know you're there," she suddenly vocalizes. Her voice sounds very, very condescending, and she speaks very quickly.

Crimson's brows lower, wondering if what she said was directed to him.

As the mare keeps writing, seemingly absorbed in her work, she calls again, "You going to stand there and watch me all day?"

"So you were talkin' to me," Crimson crosses his arms.

"Do you see anypony else around?" she questions sarcastically.

"I ain't botherin' you, am I?"

"Not any more than the extent you already have."

"Good," Crimson retorts passive-aggressively as he walks around a few lab tables, towards the front of the mare. Once he stands before her, he looks down at the scroll she hasn't stopped writing in, then up to her front. Her terribly rude attitude by itself is slightly off-putting, but its amplified by her young and innocent appearance.

Her pink orbs shift up to him quickly, then back down to her scroll as her brows furrow. "What do you want?"

"Your reaction to me is certainly somethin'."

"You will excuse me if I fail to take interest in you."

"I take it you're already familiar with who I am."

"Of course. The whimsical human everypony is talking about."

"What's yer name, miss?"

She stops writing suddenly, squinting at her scroll. Crimson raises his left brow, wondering about her sudden reaction. To his surprise, she lifts her head up to him, eyeing him bitterly. "Why are you bothering me?"

"Cause you were the unfortunate soul who was first seen by my unlikeliness in these here labs, ma'am," Crimson smirks. "I've got a few things to ask you before I can get out of your hair."

"Are you a tourist with privileged access to any part of the Castle? How are you even allowed in the Royal Research labs?"

Crimson shrugs, "the guards outside didn't try stoppin' me when I was comin' in."

The mare sighs through her nose, rolling her eyes before looking back down at her scroll again.

"The sooner you help me, the sooner I leave you alone."

"Why don't you go bother Magnifying Glass instead?" she asks in a mumble, continuing her writing.

"Magnifying Glass? That another researcher?"

"Yes, he is. It would be preferable if you disturbed him instead of me."

"So there's only two of you here?"

She sighs in annoyance, "As of this moment? Yes. That is not speaking for the Minor Scribes that don't have any business in the labs, they patrol the Castle."

"How many Robes are there normally?" She lifts her head again, squinting at him as he says 'Robes.' He becomes aware to the fact that the term 'Robes' might not be the most positive of inflections. "... Or, uh, Royal Researchers. Whatever y'all call 'em."

"There are five of us," she replies, still squinting at him searingly. "Three are currently in the Las Pegasus laboratories performing coequal studies."

"What're their names?"

"The Second-Head Researcher is Mace Collateral. Under him is Running Water, the Head Scribe. Then Lightheart Trot. She's a regular Scribe, just as Magnifying Glass and I."

Crimson nods in acknowledgement. "'N what's yer name?"

"Why do you want to know?" she deflects the question strictly.

"A friend of mine wants to know. You might'a heard of her, she's the Head Researcher."

"... You... You're referring to Moonlight Wish, correct?" she asks, to which he nods affirmingly.

"So you do know her."

"Of course I know her. I used to work for her. She's a very prestigious researcher," the mare states as if Crimson was supposed to know this already.

"Don't that mean they're actually six of you, not just five?"

"That would be the case, if she wasn't officially marked for relief."

Crimson's brows furrow as he presses his knuckles on the lab table, leaning closer to her. "... What does that mean?"

"To summarize a painfully long story into a single sentence: It was believed Moonlight Wish committed suicide, thus leaving her position as Head Researcher available."

"The fuck?" Crimson squints.

"Your reaction and previous statement lead me to assume that is not the case."

"Of course it fuckin' isn't. Why would someone like Moonlight kill herself? What brain-dead moron conjured such a stupid fuckin' tale?"

"The origins of the rumor are unclear, it has been circulating since she had left many years ago. I always found it preposterous as well. It would be very unlike her."

Crimson rubs his chin, throwing the ideas presented to him around in his head. He isn't sure if Celestia or Moonlight herself are aware about this, but he's making it a point to relay it to them for clarification soon. She is right, Moonlight doesn't come off as the type of pony that would move to hurt herself, much less end her own life.

But he realizes that there is always the possibility that he is wrong. He understands that there is too much he does not know for him to be jumping to conclusions. Though, from what he has seen, she does not have any self-destructive tendencies.

Pushing aside his rise in temper from the outlandish rumor, he is grateful that this seemingly fussy and angry mare he's talking to has been nice enough to answer his questions.

Just as soon as she drops her gaze back to her scroll to finally continue writing, Crimson speaks up again, causing her to sigh irately. "Right, well, thanks for the info. I'll be out of your hair now... miss..." he leans his head towards her, prompting her to tell him her name. She only lifts her sharp eyes to look at him without uttering a word. "... Not one for greetings?"

"No."

"Not even yer first name?"

"No," she repeats the same way.

"What's wrong with me knowin' yer name? It's not like I can use it to hurt you."

Her muzzle scrunches as she returns her gaze to the scroll.

"... You don't like yer name? Think it's embarrassing or somethin'?"

"I am not going to tell you my name, and that is final. You can leave now."

For a gritty and stern mare like her, this is certainly a sensitive spot. Bad move for her, revealing that she has an insecurity under all of that angry frowning. It only makes toying with her that much easier. So, with a grin, Crimson sits up from the lab table and coos, "Anythin' for my bubblegum-colored dame. ... Hmn. Think I'll call you Lil' Miss Bubblegum. That's got a nice ring, don't it? You aren't married right? It'd be Misses Bubblegum in that case--"

"No," she interjects harshly.

"Ah, I see. Single then. It'd be Miss Bubblegum."

"Do not call me that."

He shrugs theatrically, "I ain't got another way to refer to you, Miss Bubblegum."

"Mrr, hrrh," her head lowers as she grumbles her anger out. "... Just... leave. Now."

"Yeah, yeah, f'course! I'll be on my way. Do know I'm grateful for your help, and... apologies for havin' taken up yer time... Miss Bubblegum." He chortles on his way towards the archway. The pink-maned mare keeps her dilated, burning eyes fixed on him as he moves to leave.

Once Crimson exits the lab and steps out into the hallway, he steps right in front of another pony who was about to walk towards the same room he just came out of. A unicorn stallion with a silver coat and blue silver-streaked hair is standing in place, staring up at Crimson in awe. He's wearing the same hooded robe as the other mare, except light blue in color.

"Huh?" the stallion suddenly murmurs, despite no one having said anything.

"I take it you're Magnifyin' Glass."

"Huh? Uuh," he stammers, shifting his eyes left and right small distances. "... Uh, I, yes! Yes. That's, uh, that's... that's me! Wow! You're the human!"

"Name's Crimson. Just got done talkin' to yer friend over there, she told me yer name."

"Oh--oh, I heard. I was, uh, uhm... listening in on you two. After I heard talking coming from her lab, I just... just had to see what the commotion was. You, um, uh... were really making her angry."

"Yeah, I was. Gotta kick outta her."

"I would--would never do something like that, she's... she's scary."

"Bubblegum? You think she's scary?" he asks, getting a nod from Glass. "More adorable than anythin'."

"Don't--Don't let her hear you say that!"

"I SWEAR THAT I WILL COME OUT THERE!" the mare yells furiously from the inside of her lab. "GO AWAY!"

Glass's eyes shoot open as he stammers away, running towards the middle lab room on the other side of the hallway and shuddering inside. Crimson rolls his eyes and walks towards the same room, standing at the archway as he sees the stallion hiding behind a lab desk. They eye each other, with Crimson giving Glass's trembling look a very unimpressed stare.

After giving Glass a minute to cower in fear, he finally comes up from his hiding and clears his throat. "S-Sorry. She, um, she... she scares me."

"Yeah, I see that."

"Any--Anyway, what brings the talk of the city to--to the Royal Research labs?" he chuckles nervously.

"I'm here to fetch the blueprint for the ANA device."

"The ANA device?" he pauses briefly, scanning the ground before looking back up to the man, "... The one Moonlight Wish made?"

"That's the one."

"Why? Even the Second-Head Researcher couldn't figure out how to ah-assemble it. It--It's not like you're going to use it for anything. Are you?"

"Not me, but the maker herself is."

"Wuh-huh!?" his eyes dilate in shock, "What!? Muh-Moonlight is!?"

"Yeah?"

"Does--Does that mean she's HERE!? At the CASTLE!?"

"Yeah. Thought you said you were eavesdroppin' on me 'n Bubblegum's conversation."

"Only the latter part of it!"

"Hm. I thought lots of folks already knew she was here."

"N-No! No, no, not at all! I had no idea! All I've ever heard about is you!"

Crimson scratches the back of his head, realizing that he might have just blown Moonlight's cover in some way. "I, uh... yeah. Don't go around tellin' anyone about that, alright? She's takin' time to herself right now, she'll be the one to let others know she's here, not you or me."

"Er-ehhr," Glass stammers, nearly choking on his own saliva, "ye-yeah! Sure! No problem at all! I won't say a word!" His eyes look up to the ceiling, glistening with some sort of emotion mixed between shock and adore. "Wow! Moonlight's back! That's--That's... that's great news! Eh-uh, t-tell her I said hi, would you?"

"Yeah, will do. Now, about that blueprint."

"Hoh! Oh--Oh, sure! It's in Second-Head Collateral's office! In a file in his desk! Come with me! I'll get it for you!"

Crimson nods in appreciation, following behind him as he leads him to his objective.

‎

~~~<

‎

With the blueprint in a manila folder and an uneventful trek back to the Eastern Tower first floor, Crimson opens the right door to Moonlight's room, startling the little mare as she was tilting a beaker to pour green liquid into another.

"Pardon, didn't mean to startle you none," he excuses himself as he steps in and closes the door.

"I-It's okay, I didn't expect you to be back so soon. I see you have the blueprint."

He holds up the folder as he walks towards her at the middle lab table, holding it out for her to take it.

She envelops it with her magic, floating it to herself and opening it up. "Perfect. Now I just need to organize my materials, then I can get started with remaking my ANA device."

Crimson looks at the chemistry flasks she has set up on her table, which contain a myriad of liquids and bubbling substances. "Are these here meant for the ANA device?" he asks, receiving a verbalized affirmation. "... Looks more like potions 'n tonics than workin' on an electrical box."

"The ANA device is magically powered. It also detects magic using its own magical properties. In essence, it's a magic box, not an electrical one."

"Ah. That explains why I didn't see it plugged into nothin' back at yer house. The lamps 'n stuff were, just not the box."

"Mhm! The electrical components are the dials, but it's a very simple circuit that powers itself using magic also."

"You make it sound so easy, but I heard the Second-Head Researcher had a hard time."

"The Second-Head? ... Oh! That reminds me!" Moonlight smiles as she gazes up at him, looking quite anxious all of a sudden. "Did you get the names of the researchers currently in position?"

"Ah, yeah. I got their names. You aware that like half the team's out right now? In 'Las Pegasus' doin' whatever it is they're doin'?"

"The team must have entered division procedures, since the magical anomalies are present in wide-spread Equestria."

"Ah, so y'all are coverin' more ground."

"Precisely. Now, could you inform me of their names?"

"Mmn," Crimson rubs his left brow, "Forgot to mention that I got their names except fer one."

"Except for one...?" her ears drop to her head as she slowly begins to frown.

"Yeah. It was some mare, pink and yellow. She didn't wanna give me her name."

"Oh. A mare?"

"Yuppers. I got the names of everyone else though." It looks like the weight that previously pressed her was lifted off, along with her posture brightening itself. He smiles at her relief, crossing his arms as he recalls the names he was told. "First was Second-Head Mace Collateral."

"I knew he'd make it as Second-Head," she beams. "An older gentlecolt, but he is very wise and intuitive. He was here many years before I became a Royal Researcher!"

"And you somehow beat him to the top spot?"

"... Eheh," her posture deflates again. "... H-He wasn't very happy about that. Even I think he deserved it more than I did."

"Bull. Celestia picked you, right?" he asks, and she nods to his claim. "There you go. She saw somethin' in you that she didn't see in anyone else."

"... That's one way to look at it, I suppose." She adjusts her glasses and clears her throat before moving on, "And the other names?"

"Right. Next was Running Water."

"He's mister Collateral's right-hoof. I'm sure he's taken Collateral's old position as Head Scribe by now."

"Sure has, which sets us at the regular scribes. Lightheart Trot was one of 'em."

"Mm, I'm not familiar with her," Moonlight muses as she taps her cheek. "She must be new."

"Then there was that mare who didn't want to tell me her name."

"Pink and yellow? Pink mane and yellow coat, correct?"

"That's the one."

"She always was self-conscious about the silliest things... kind of like me, in a way."

"I'm sure you two got along real well."

"I'm not certain if she enjoyed my company, but I certainly enjoyed hers, and her work ethic. She's a very straightforward pony."

"I'll bet. What's her name, anyway?"

"We always called her Swirl. She said it was the closest approximation to her real name that didn't make her want to 'assassinate her parents.' Of course, she was joking about assassinating her parents. ... Well, at least we assume she is. I believe she has yet to do it, since she still has her job and isn't in the Canterlot dungeon."

"Swirl, huh?" Crimson repeats thoughtfully, to which Moonlight nods affirmingly. "Strange. That name don't sound anythin' to be embarrassed about. It's kinda cute."

"Cute," Moonlight echoes, entering visible contemplation. "... So you... think she's cute?"

"In her own way, yeah. Her attitude might need a little adjustin', though. Anyways, the last fella on the team's named Magnifying Glass."

Moonlight's musing expression suddenly lights up. "Magnifying Glass?"

"Mhm. Told me to tell you he said 'hi.'"

"... He knows I'm here?"

"Yeah, uh, about that... I might have let it slip that you're here in Canterlot to him." Moonlight's eyes shimmer as he speaks, seeming like she isn't actually paying attention to what he's saying. "But at least he said he wasn't gonna tell no one that you're here. Hopefully he's a guy who keeps to his word."

Crimson notices the starstruck expression she has on, getting the hint that he might be talking to a wall right now. She twiddles the left lock of her mane with her hoof, puckering her lips as she lets her mind trail off.

"Moonlight?" he waves his hand in front of her face, garnering her attention once more. "Moonlight? There somethin' I need to know about this Magnifying Glass fella?"

"... Um," she shuffles in her stool, looking down at her hooves timidly.

"I'm all ears, Moonlight. If you've got somethin' you wanna talk about, I'll rightfully listen."

After a bit of internal debate, she looks up at him, "... You... won't tell anypony about this, will you?"

"Swear on my life that I'll keep my trap shut."

With another brief silence and a sigh, she leans closer to him and speaks softly, "He, um... Magnifying Glass. Do you remember me telling you I used to write to my pen-pals?"

"Yeah, I remember that. Figure he was one of 'em?"

"H-He was," she nods repeatedly, "among several others of course, but he was one of them. He, um... um..." Her bashfulness slowly overtakes her courage to speak, but luckily Crimson seems to catch the drift.

"I'm ripe to assume you 'n him had a little... connection?" Moonlight nods wryly to his supposition. "... Well, hot damn," he smirks at the shy unicorn, "Little Lighty's got a love interest."

"I-I wouldn't... I wouldn't call it a love interest, merely an... interest for... associating?" she smiles wryly.

Crimson crosses his arms, smiling at her goofy-like, "So yeah, a love interest." His smile is slow to waver, but with the sight of Moonlight's growing dejection, his front eventually changes to seriousness. "What's wrong, Moonlight?"

She doesn't immediately respond, leaving a thick tension in the air as she slowly reels in her thoughts. "... It's... nothing. Just... that part of me is being loud again."

"'N what is that part of you sayin'?"

"... It's saying I'm going to screw everything up if I try anything."

Crimson steps closer to her, standing at her side and coupling her against him. She takes the embrace, resting the side of her head against his waist and sighing despondently. He uses his left hand to gently caress her mane, keeping his face fixated forward onto nothing. "You're nothing short of a working miracle, Moonlight. I'm positive you won't mess anythin' up." A small smile grows across his face, thinking back at the strange, spastic demeanor Magnifying Glass had. "Hmh. If anythin', he's gonna need to be the careful one. Guy looked like he lives in constant whiplash."

Moonlight exhales sharply through her nose, smiling at his prodding. "He is a little strange, I'll agree. But he was very kind and helpful when I first joined the Royal Researchers. He was there two years before me, and he helped me get adjusted to everything. He is a genuinely nice pony, and... well... he..." Moonlight snuggles her head closer to his side, feeling a deep warmth emanating from his embrace, enough to give her courage to continue, "... he confessed to me years ago that he had feelings for me. Unfortunately... some things... didn't go quite according to plan. I had to leave Canterlot... but I'm glad he stayed in touch with me, despite everything I did."

"What happened that caused you to leave Canterlot?" Crimson looks down at her void-gazing eyes.

"... It's... a long story," she sighs as she leans off of his side, prompting him to stop his caressing and let go of her. "I'll tell you all about it some other time. For right now, I need to get started on these projects."

"Yeah, I get'cha," Crimson acknowledges, walking along the lab table to stand across Moonlight. He thinks back on a certain subject, one he swore he'd try to get clarified with Moonlight, but... maybe it isn't the best time to bring up negative conversation. Instead, he looks back at her with a small smile, "I was thinkin' about explorin' the Castle for a while. You don't mind if I leave you to yer lonesome for a bit?"

"N-Not at all!" she smiles encouragingly at him. "In fact, it would be preferable if you did. I really need to focus all of my attention on my blueprint, and I don't want you sitting here doing nothing bored out of your mind. Plus, getting to know your surroundings could never hurt!"

"Yeah, that's what I was thinkin'," he states, walking towards the doors to her room. "Righty-o, I'll be back soon."

Moonlight waves at him with her hoof, smiling as she watches him open one of the doors and step out. Once he closes it and she's left to her lonesome, she inhales deeply, letting her smile drop for solemnness. She looks down at the blueprint on the lab desk, preparing herself mentally for the task ahead.

The Guard

~ Canterlot Castle, the Grand Halls ~<
February 2nd, Monday, 13:49

‎

Crimson meanders through the halls of the Canterlot Castle with the paper directions Moonlight provided. The ponies around, the guards, the maids, and random upper-class snobs, they don't bother him, they keep at a distance, just the way he wants them to. He isn't particularly interested in small talk with anyone, neither is he looking to explore every nook and cranny of the Castle. Right now, his objective is simple: relax for a while while Moonlight does her thing. He figured the best way to do that was go outside, where the air of the cool noon awaits him.

It takes him an uncounted amount of time to reach his destination, but he eventually walks through a large opened doorway at the far end of the Castle that leads to the expansive yard out back. Fresh air encases his mostly-exposed body, save for the cargo shorts shielding what matters most. It smells very dewy from all of the moist and glistening green out on the field, twinkling with sunlight as they sway gently from the calm wind.

His eyes jump between all sorts of training equipment, obstacles, and pony guards as they perform their routinely exercise. There are also many generic living barracks, appearing copied and pasted several times to form a rectangular resting zone for these busy troops.

Crimson spots a shady tree a good distance out, clear of the Guard's traffic, and deems it the best contender for his relaxation.

As he walks towards the tree, he catches eyes from guard ponies around. The ones training and moving don’t interrupt their routines to stare at him, but the more idle guards don't hide their interest. He ignores everything around him, looking for nothing but to slack off under the shade.

Crimson sits down at the base of the tree, resting his back against it and exhaling through his nose. It feels good to just relax with no impending responsibility. He had hoped to get more time to himself like this after the debacle involving the Black Spurs was over, but sometimes things just don't go according to plan. He won't let it bother him though, especially now, when he's finally able to loosen up.

Now that he's doing nothing but idling, his lack of sleep is seriously starting to bother him. He's able to ignore it well enough while busy, but now it's effortlessly dragging him in. He lets his burning eyes close completely, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of his eyelids providing moisture to his eyeballs.

That is, until he hears a collective "Ooo" call out from a pack of guards just ahead of him. His eyes break open to look towards the sound, and he realizes he has a front-row seat to some stationary training going on. Quite a few ponies are standing in a big circle, with two ponies in the middle of this circle fighting each other.

It clicks immediately, this regiment of training that he himself partook in many times while in his old gang. Good old-fashioned sparring.

The two ponies in the middle wear their staple gold armor and they strike one another with bare hooves. Looks like two stallions going at it, and they are delivering some rather righteous blows. They're definitely not holding back for this, which probably explains the armor.

Crimson’s brows raise in amusement, enjoying the show as he relaxes.

They batter each other, standing face-to-face breathless and exhausted. This particular spar must have been going on for a while now, both contenders look about ready to throw in the towel. That's a good indicator of an equal match-up, where only the slightest mistake on either party could end the match.

And there it is, the window of opportunity that was required to win. The session ends when one of the stallions ducks under a slow but powerful right hook, springing up and upper-cutting the other stallion right in the chin.

Crimson grins as the loser hits the dirt with his head rattling in his helmet.

A rather decorated guardmare in silver and gold armor, similar to the Bulletpoint fella's but a bit more lavish, blows a whistle to officially signal the end of the spar. The victorious stallion helps his defeated opponent up, helping him balance himself and giving him some words of respect. They bow to each other and step out of the circle while the other guards around cheer and stomp their hooves on the grass, entertained and humbled at the sportsmanship.

A heartwarming sight indeed, it's like the Guard in itself is its own family.

Crimson's left brow raises when he spots the silver-armored guardmare who blew the whistle turning to look at him. Her face contorts in bemusement, giving him a rather critical stare.

Another guardstallion in similar silver armor strides up to the mare, telling her something excitedly. The mare ignores what he says, prompting him to repeat himself more seriously. The mare does nothing but tilt her head towards Crimson, signaling the confused stallion to look over as well, and now they both stare at him.

The mass of guards parade themselves in a group as they talk to each other and laugh, but the two silver-armored ponies begin making stomping paths towards Crimson. He crosses his arms and slouches, dragging his back downwards along the tree until he almost lies flat, making himself look as sleazy as possible just to spite their stern gazes.

Finally, they stand before him. The snow-colored mare with blonde hair and blue eyes, and the teal-colored stallion with grey hair and brown eyes. Crimson looks upwards to meet their stare, saluting with two fingers, “Howdy.”

“That was a shitty salute," scowls the stallion. "Don’t ever do that again."

Crimson lifts his left hand and gives him a middle finger. "How's this one?" He can tell this stallion has no idea what this means, but the fact that it makes him angrier regardless is good enough for him.

“You enjoying the show?” asks the mare with less hostility, but still condescendingly.

“Sure am," Crimson replies, letting his hand drop. "That was some solid tusslin’ going on. Them's some good troops there."

“Thanks. We do our best to keep their hides in line. You must be the human Celestia informed all of us about. Gotta say, it’s weird seeing you in-pony.”

"I bet. Don’t worry ‘bout me though, I’m just here to watch.”

“Pssh, not like you could survive out there anyway,” the stallion remarks, looking away in a dismissive manner. "Interrupting my fucking promotion too."

“You're right, I'd probably get smoked out there,” Crimson gives the bitter stallion a tired smile.

“You sound awfully confident for someone who just put themselves down,” the mare remarks.

“Just mindin’ my manners, ma’am," Crimson sits up a bit, leveling his eyes with hers. "Don’t want anyone makin’ a fool of themselves."

“A wise guy, huh?" the stallion squints. "What? Too afraid of getting your ass placed on a plate and served?"

"The other way around, partner. I don't wanna hurt nobody. Ain't in my nature to get rough with people who don't deserve it. Less you ask for it."

"Ch, you're reeeaally full of yourself," the stallion grumbles, leaning his head towards Crimson. "If you’re so righteous, why don’t you get your two-legged ass up and show me how great you really are?”

The man stares back lazily, debating to himself whether to entertain this stallion.

“If you’re too chicken, of course, we understand,” the mare says with a grin, enticing Crimson further.

Making up his mind, the man shrugs and rises to his feet, towering above the two ponies that are attempting to haze him. The two aren't shooken by his height, remaining confident and full-hearty.

“I won’t get in trouble for doin’ this right?” Crimson asks.

The mare chuckles lightly, “Nope, we’ll let onlooking ponies know you’re not just getting your ass tossed around by the Royal Guard for no reason.”

“Alright,” Crimson grins, pointing at the stallion and then himself, “You ‘n me then, hoss.”

The stallion blows some air out of his nose, staring up at him harshly. “Let’s go then, monkey-boy,” he mutters as he turns around, walking back to the sparring circle. The mare follows him, and Crimson tags along last, heading back towards the big pack of guard ponies. It appears that a new spar is getting ready to start, but the stallion in silver armor steps into the center and forces them out.

“Aww, but I’ve been waiting all morning for my turn!” one of the contenders protests.

“Too bad. Move," the silver-armored stallion demands, acquiring his helmet from another guardpony who was holding it for him. "That’s an order.”

The two contenders groan in annoyance, stepping out of the center, mumbling curses to each other against their superior. The unusual interruption catches the attention of every guard in the circle, even garnering eyes from guards at other parts of the field.

“Who’s Banter looking to trash now?” a random guard asks.

“Dunno. Probably some recruit or something,” another replies.

“No... look,” a guard points her hoof.

The group of guards now direct their attention to the towering man, who stands on the outskirts of the pack. The ponies closest to him clear out, making a path for him to enter the circle. Their eyes are wide and trembling as they witness this disparate human from merely feet away. Whispers begin to spread all around while he makes his way into the center, standing a few feet away from his challenger, Banter.

The silver-armored mare nudges Crimson's left thigh, "So, uh, we don't got any armor that's going to fit you. You sure you wanna fight Banter without any protection? He's probably not gonna hold back. He has a tendency to do that."

Crimson shakes his head dismissively, "I'm good. No armor needed."

"You sure?"

He nods.

With an indifferent shrug, the silver-armored mare returns to her original position in the previous spar as the referee. She clears her throat and calls loudly, “Alright, listen up! The human has consented to spar without armor! Therefore, we're rolling with regular rules! No weapons, no magic, no crying! Three knockdowns per contender! If your opponent gives in or can’t stand back up, the spar is over! Contenders, do I make myself clear!?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Banter huffs firmly, keeping his eyes locked onto the man.

"Sure thing," Crimson nods twice, returning a lazy stare to his opponent.

"Are you two ready!?”

“Let’s go!” Banter shouts as he spreads his wings.

“Ready,” Crimson replies, standing there with his arms to his side.

“Spar!”

Like a flash, Banter darts forward. Crimson feels a rock-hard hoof crash into his stomach, solid and completely unblocked. He stumbles backwards, coughing out some spit from such a quick and unexpected strike.

Banter dashes away after the strike lands, landing on the grass while giving a wicked grin as he whispers, “This’ll be quick."

The crowd watches with anticipation.

Crimson fixes his posture, staring at Banter with tired eyes. He walks forward, raising his fists up in an oddly relaxed, some-what defensive position. Banter darts forward again, and he gets ready to intercept.

A turn of plans: Banter drastically tilts his wing angle to loop around in a sharp backflip just before he collides. With this new trajectory, Banter gets his hoof under Crimson’s lax guard and strikes his abdomen again in the same spot.

Crimson drops his hands and holds his stomach, grunting and taking a step back.

The guards around yammer and blurt randomly:

"Is the human even trying!?"

"Damn, I felt that one!"

“The human didn’t know what he was getting into.”

Banter doesn’t retreat this time, he keeps up the pressure. His quick and agile form dances at Crimson's front, delivering a multitude of completely unblocked aerial punches and kicks. A strike to the liver, a strike to the diaphragm, a stomach blow, strike after strike, he doesn't relent until he has thoroughly battered his punching bag.

Banter winds up his hoof while Crimson’s discombobulated self staggers, looking to end their one-sided caper. He brings it in, releasing a cry of victory as his hoof crashes into his opponent's face.

The guards watch with wide eyes, some even gasping and wincing at the loud bash of the impact.

Crimson shuts his eyes and staggers back, tilting backwards... but he doesn’t fall. He throws his body forward to balance himself out, leaving his head to hang and his hair to shade over his eyes.

The silver-armored mare directing the fight squints, looking at the man as he simply stands there, shoulders slouched and head hung.

Banter's grin of victory slowly turns to annoyance and confusion, lacking the understanding as to why this man is still on his two feet despite the vicious beating. He cocks his arm back again, “Rr, ryaah!” and he swings, decking the human on his other cheek, rocking his head to the side.

Crimson staggers back a step but doesn’t fall, slowly turning his head to face the ground under him again.

“Rrgh," Banter's eyes narrow in frustration, "just fall down already! RYAH!” he strikes his face again, and again, and again, and again. “FUCKING! RRGH! FALL! DOWN! HRGH! MAKE IT! EASY! ON! YOURSELF!”

The silver guardmare takes the whistle into her wing, bringing it up to her lips, ready to blow it at a moment's notice… but her sharpened eyes watch quietly and intently. The surrounding guards have pity in their expressions, witnessing the brutality before them.

“FUUCK!" Banter screams, panting in anger as he readies to strike him again. "Just... lie... DOWN! RYAA! – Grh!? Huh!?”

Banter’s hoof is halted suddenly, caught by Crimson’s hand.

His hand closes... very tightly.

"Uh-wuh?" Banter tries to look at Crimson's face, but his head is still hung and shaded over by his red scraggled hair.

His hand tightens, and keeps tightening. An unnatural strength begins to crush Banter’s hoof.

“H-Hey! Let-- Irk! Let GO! Ack! Fucking let go of me-- Rhk! RrhAaAa!” he begins to desperately kick and flap his wings.

“You’re fast,” Crimson says, lifting his head as he smiles at the flailing stallion. He stops tightening his grip, now only holding onto Banter’s hoof like a vice. Banter and the surrounding guard ponies look at the towering human with silent, dilating eyes. Crimson uses his free hand to wipe off some blood trickling down the side of his mouth before continuing, “But ain't got shit fer power. Yer frequent punches don’t equate to much if there ain't a spine behind 'em.”

"Ha-I..." Banter's panting form trembles at the man's wake.

Crimson swings his arm up, twirling himself 180 degrees. He brings Banter along with this movement, and he starts to spin him in circles above his head, over and over and over and over.

“WAaAAaAaaaAa!” Banter cries as he is spun like a lasso.

The guards around lose their shocked faces as they witness this bizarre spectacle. Their composure slowly breaks into a grin, then a chuckle, until they finally burst out laughing.

The silver-armored guardmare drops the whistle from her lips, attempting to stifle a snicker of her own.

After a good disorientation, Crimson stops spinning him. He extends his arm out to hold Banter out like a hunter who just earned himself some game, then he drops the stallion onto the ground, cleaning his hands together to gesture he's ripe and finished.

Once she sees that Banter is out of commission, the silver-armored mare blows her whistle, signaling the end of the spar. Some of the guards cheer and continue to laugh:

"That was insane!"

"What did we just watch!?"

"Poor Banter!"

"Somepony get a barf bag!"

"Is it bad that I kind of want to be spun around like that? It looks like fun!"

Crimson leans down and offers the nearly-vomiting stallion a hand, giving him a friendly smile.

Banter looks away with furrowed brows and lets his ears fall flat onto his helmet. Three stallions come up to him and aid him out of the ring, all appeasing to him and giving Crimson angry glares.

Crimson watches Banter's group of guards carry him away, welling with an ounce of guilt. "... I tried to warn 'em."

The silver guardmare trots into the circle, standing before Crimson and smirking up at him. “That was a crazy display you put on for us, guy. The way you played the second-in-command like a toy, I don't think he's too happy about that."

"I'm thinkin' he'll manage."

"You're either dumb as a rock or just stupid tough, but I’m guessing you were taking those punches on purpose.”

Crimson nods with a smile.

"Your face looks good despite all of those punches. Hardly a scratch. It looked like the hits were actually hurting you, until the very end there, when you stood in place and let him wail on you. At that point, it was too obvious. The way your body was moving? Your posture? You were standing with your legs shoulder-width apart, springing yourself to make it look like the punches were pushing you over. Saw right through your little facade in a second."

"Looks like I gotta work on my actin'."

“What you did was pretty ingenious actually. What you said to him was exactly right, he hits fast, but not very hard. Banter always prides himself too much on his speed, he doesn't focus on the strength behind it. Sure, he's in silver for a reason, but even the best need to be reminded that there’s still training to be done. This might finally be the lesson he needed to learn, so thanks for that. I’m Snowfall Winter by the way. Captain Snowfall Winter. Like, Captain of the Royal Guard Snowfall Winter.”

“It's a pleasure, Captain of the Royal Guard Snowfall Winter,” he mimics facetiously.

Snowfall sizes him up, anticipating the reply containing his name, but she is instead left in a moment of silence. “… So... yeah. This is the part where you tell me your name. It's common courtesy, if you were unaware.”

“Alright. But you gotta spar with me first,” Crimson points his thumb at himself.

Snowfall tilts her head, seeming intrigued by the challenge. "A spar? With you?"

“Technically not a spar, but that's what I'm callin' it. I'll tell you my name, all you gotta do is land one clean, unblocked hit, ‘n you win. I won’t fight back.”

Snowfall's expression lights up with interest, “That's it? That's all I have to do? Banter's right, you really are full of yourself."

"One unblocked hit," he reaffirms the condition.

"Alright, fine. You’re on.”

The surrounding guards look in addlement as they watch their captain taking off her regal armor. She tosses the pieces to some random guards, and they catch them with fumbling hooves.

Crimson and Snowfall take their distance, eyeing each other with grins that give off different energies, Crimson's coming off as playful and goofy where Snowfall's is confident and competitive.

One of the other guards in golden armor places himself where Snowfall did when she was directing the spars, taking on the task of referee. “The spar against Captain Snowfall and the human will commence when the contenders are ready! Are you both ready?”

“Ready,” Crimson says, raising his fists up firmly. It becomes apparent to the spectators that he had lifted his guard before when sparring Banter, just for looks. His guard appears solid now, like two pillars protecting his front.

“Ready,” Snowfall replies, spreading her wings akin to how the previous contender had done.

“Spar!”

A white blur, left and right, Snowfall becomes distorted lines as she weaves at an insane rate. She's easily faster than Banter, so much so that the spectators have a hard time keeping up.

THUMP!

The blurring stops when a strike is made before anyone had blinked. Snowfall’s hoof is located at Crimson’s left forearm, saving his chest from a direct blow. The punch was hard and strong, the perfect blend of speed and power, but alas, the strike was blocked.

Snowfall and Crimson, frozen in place for this brief moment, stare into each other’s eyes, narrowing them competitively.

Snowfall enters a flurry of blows, using both her hindlegs and forelegs as she twirls and spins in a powerful rush. Crimson quickly analyzes that this move-set is the same one that Banter had used, but it takes merely a second of being under-fire to realize this is Snowfall's own dance, and Banter was only mimicking it.

The guards watch in awe, taking in the opportunity to witness their captain at her peak. For many of the newer recruits around, this is a feature presentation.

Crimson’s eyes are opened wide, staring straight forward without shifting anywhere as he is pedaling backwards. His hands and arms move like a blur, blocking every single strike that shoots at him like some advanced automaton. The sound of colliding flesh is heard like an automated weapon, and the stallion who is directing the spar squints his eyes, trying his best to keep up with the rush.

Violent bashing of bone and skin, Crimson's arms are quickly becoming bruised from the abuse. Every crash of her solid hooves against his guard sends shocks of pain through his entire body until his nerve-endings shock their last. Sensation in his forearms is slowly fading, along with his ability to keep his guard up. While his face remains firm and unfazed, time feels as if it's slowing down, and this blitz is going on for an eternity. Unending punches and kicks with the force and damage of a sharp stone, forever and ever and ever--

Catch!

The guards around gasp.

Snowfall remains still, only flapping her wings after her final attack was intercepted. A spinning roundhouse thrown above Crimson's guard and towards his face is caught by his left hand at the middle of her hindleg. Unlike her attacks from the beginning of the rush, this kick was slow, sloppy, and terribly executed, leaving it as a perfect opportunity to step on the smoldering flame that became her barrage and drive it to a halt. Now, she breathes heavily in place, keeping herself hovering in front of him with the tiring flap of her wings as her leg is clasped by his unrelenting grip.

He twirls her around and latches onto her, pressing her back against his chest as he holds her in a chokehold but without the choking, only the grappling. "You can call me Crimson, by the way,” he coos into her ear.

The guards spectating are speechless. Snowfall doesn’t bother struggling or moving, she simply pants, staring into the nothing while she rests against the man's warm body, festering in her defeat.

He finally lets her go and she falls promptly onto her four legs. She turns her head, staring at him with a squint.

“The spar is over!" announces the star-struck stallion refereeing. "The human--err-- Crimson! Wins!”

The guards rile themselves up and stomp their hooves on the ground:

“Iiincredible!”

“You think he’s cheating somehow?”

“Oo! Oo! Can I spar next? Please!?”

“Nono! Me!”

“It was MY turn!”

“You gassed yourself out pretty quick, which was your downfall," Crimson states. "Though, the attacks were solid. I felt every single one of those, and they sure did fuckin' hurt," he smiles wryly as he presents the damage she caused to his forearms, bruised to the point of trickling blood.

Some guards gasp at the sight, whispering among each other:

"Haaardcooore!"

"Tender!"

"Is he alright?"

"Ew, that looks horrible!"

Crimson puts his fists on his hips, chuckling at Snowfall's bitter expression. "Hey, if it helps any, I liked the boldness of your strategy. My arms are beaten meat. I reckon if I were anyone else, my guard would'a dropped and I'd be on the ground right now. But, in the words of my sister, I'm just as stubborn as a rock." Snowfall shoots a wry squint at him. "I can see why you're the captain. You’re pretty good,” he says as he gives her two gun-hands.

After seeing her huff at his attempt to conciliate with her, Crimson crouches down next to her and ruffles her blonde mane. Snowfall feels like a child being given a motivational speech by their parent after losing a soccer game. In retaliation to his overly confident ruffling of her mane, she almost bites his hand... but then gives him a tilted smile to show she isn't actually upset, garnering a snicker from him.

“Embarrassed in front of my own Guard. You owe me a rematch,” Snowfall says in a perky but determined manner.

“You bet. We’ll have one eventually, but for now I reckon some of your other troops want in on a sparring session. I think I'm retirin' for the day."

"Next time you and me go at it, you'll be retiring on a stretcher. Get outta my circle, punk," Snowfall bumps his thigh with her side as she returns to her post again as the referee.

Crimson smiles at her and complies with her directive, exiting the circle by stepping between ponies that smile at him and hop in place as he passes them. He heads towards the tree again, hoping to actually relax this time--

"'N where're you headed, mate?" calls a stallion approaching from his peripheral vision.

Crimson stops and looks towards Bulletpoint, "Was lookin' to take a load off under that tree there."

"Ye?" Bulletpoint smiles proddingly and leans his head closer. "Is that all you got'a say for yeself?"

"Is there somethin' else I should be sayin'?"

"Considerin' ye shat on the two highest rankin' officers in the Guard, I'd reckon you'd have lots t'say!"

"Saw that, hm? I don't remember seein' you in the crowd."

"Just got done with me mornin' post, mate. Was headed to me barracks t'stash me armour, got that done, 'n I'm comin' back out t'see you in the middle of the sparrin' circle spinnin' Banta around like a bloody maniac."

Crimson rubs the back of his neck, putting up a guilty smile, "If it looked like I was havin' fun, then you'd be right. Maybe a bit overboard."

"Overboard? And Banta? One in the fuckin' same, mate. Nah, you did me 'n a few friends of mine a favor puttin' that cheeky fuck in his place."

"Sounds like this Banter fella is problematic then."

"Problematic in't really the word for him, it's more like..." Bulletpoint taps his cheek, "... he's just an ass'ole."

"Don't gotta convince me of that."

"Oh, ye!" Bulletpoint suddenly beams. "Speakin' of friends, I was actually headin' to a friend of mine's right now. You said you was lookin' to relax? This chick's the best for that."

"She in the Guard too?"

"Ye, but she's mornin' post like me, and we're done for the day. Lucky cunt lives in the Castle instead of the barracks, so hangin' with her means we hangin' in luxury. Plus, I stash all me beer in her fridge, considerin' I can't keep the shits in me barracks. Down for taggin' along, mate?"

"You had me at beer."

"Ah, that's the spirit! Knew I was gonna like you. C'mon, think she's already at her room right now," Bulletpoint waves his left wing as he begins to walk.

Crimson pockets his hands and follows behind him, turning his head back to the sparring circle one more time. Amidst two mares grappling each other in the center and the cheering crowd around them, he catches glimpse of Snowfall gazing at him. When the two make eye contact, she smiles slightly and squints at him, lifting her hoof to her eyes then pointing it to him in a manner that says, 'I'm watching you.'

Crimson replies with a two-finger salute before he faces forward again.

Camaraderie

~ Canterlot Castle, the Grand Halls ~<
February 2nd, Monday, 16:03

‎

Throughout the Castle's halls, Bulletpoint has been talking on about something involving potatoes and wing feathers, but Crimson has only been focusing enough to vaguely take in the ramblings, instead keeping his attention fixed on his surroundings.

The direction they've been traveling heads directly to the East Tower where Moonlight's room is located, and that's exactly where they arrive, but they don't enter the first floor rotunda. Bulletpoint takes the staircase to the right side of the hallway, the one the leads to the upper floors of the Tower. Crimson muses at Moonlight's regal blue doors, hoping that she's fairing well with whatever it is she's doing. He'd go and check on her, but he figures it's best to allow her unbroken concentration.

They ascend one floor up and take the hall they come across, where this hall acts as a junction for the West Tower across the Castle. Here, many doors made of wood and steel are placed evenly, parallel to each other all across this extensive hallway. It's safe to assume that this is a sort of hotel-like residence for attendants of the castle, such as maids or scribes.

Bulletpoint leads Crimson to the first door on the right, seeing nothing particularly special about it in comparison to the others, but from Bulletpoint's "'Ere we are," it's the right place.

"She home?"

"Yep." Bulletpoint clicks the door open and pushes it in. "After you~"

"Eeh... she won't get upset if you just walk in?"

"Nah, lass could give less of a fuck." He sidesteps and extends his hoof towards the doorframe, allowing entry to this dimly lit, odd-smelling room. "After you, mate."

Crimson puts his hands in his pockets and walks in, jumping his eyes around the room. Aside from being dark and strangely, but not unpleasantly, pungent, it's rather cozy. Upon stepping in, the elevation of the floor dips down a few inches, where polished wood flooring covers most of the room save for the carpeting in the living room. Said living room is directly to the left, where three couches of varying sizes sit very close to each other in front of a coffee table, which stands a multi-colored lava lamp that illuminates the room with its fair-reaching glow.

The kitchen is directly to the right, unseparated to the rest of the home by any sort of wall. Other than an island with some chairs, there isn't a dining area to be seen. There's two doors to the right, just off to the side from the kitchen, which are probably a bedroom and a bathroom since there's no other indicators of that elsewhere. It isn't the biggest living space ever seen, and it only has one bedroom, but that's to be expected from a personal quarters.

Bulletpoint nudges Crimson's side, "What'cha think o'the place?"

"I like it, it's comfy in here... and it smells like a mix of burnin' herbs and scented candles. Where's yer friend?"

"Asleep maybe. Wan'me to wake her up?"

"Nah, nah, I'm good with just waitin' here. ... Say, what's that vase thing with the glowin' globs?" Crimson points to the gently churning lamp.

"Magic lava lamp," Bulletpoint states. "Nutty, ain't it?"

"Never seen anythin' like that before. It's nutty, alright."

"Give me a sec-- Oi!" Bulletpoint suddenly shouts, attempting to get the attention of the resident. "You in hea!? Ya' got company!"

Crimson cringes at the absurd volume of his voice, mumbling to himself, "Guess we ain't waitin' then."

"When you're hangin' with the Guard's most nimble scout, fast response times are all you know," Bulletpoint psudo-strokes his confidence. "None'a that waitin' shit, ya dig."

"Thought you were one of them patrol ponies, not a scout."

"Ye, that too, but scoutin's my Specialist role."

"Mm. I've actually had a few questions regardin' the whole system here in Canterlot. Reckon I can get a few of 'em answered with y'all."

Crimson and Bulletpoint's attention is directed to the sound of a flushing toilet behind a door, the one closest to the wall and away from the kitchen. It opens up, and out from the bathroom steps out a yellow-coated, pink-haired pegasus mare wearing a blue knotted scarf.

She adjusts her scarf as she moves, sighing out in a stress-relieved fashion before her high-pitched, slow and sleepy voice calls, "Chiiill, B.P, I was, like, taking a peepee~" Her possibly purposeful rhyme is accompanied with a tiny smile. Her mellow, lazily-lidded light-pink eyes shift immediately to the tall man standing in her room. Her relaxed gaze is quick to beam at his sight. "Oh?"

Crimson's brows furrow in disbelief. ... There's no way. This couldn't be her... but it looks just like her. An alter-ego maybe? A clone? "... Miss Bubblegum?"

"... Eh-ah-wha?" she tilts her head, face turned like a lost and lonely lamb.

"Pfhah!" Bulletpoint releases sudden burst of amusement. "Fuckin' what? Miss Bubblegum? Mate," he nudges Crimson's side, "that's Strix Plume, I call her Essie. Essie, this is Crimz'n."

"... Who... who's Miss Bubblegum?" she asks, squinting her eyes in deep thought.

"Aheh," Crimson puts his index knuckle under his nose, stifling a chuckle, "pardon, I thought you were someone else for a minute."

"OoOooh~" she coos rhythmically, "you're talking about my sister, aren't you?"

"I reckon so, if she looks exactly like you. But now that I'm gettin' a better look at'cha, you ain't got a horn."

"Mmhm~ That's my big sis, Swirly~"

"... Swirly?" Crimson's lips quiver, trying to break his resolve.

"Yu-huh. Swirly Cutie, that's her wubly, adowabul name~" she murmurs as she tilts her head left and right.

Crimson exhales sharply, turning his head to look elsewhere before he loses his composure.

"Hoy-oi, mate," Bulletpoint raises his brows to Crimson, "If you wanna be alive for long, you don't let Swirly know that ye found her name out. I'm speakin' from experience."

Crimson clears his throat and nods. "Don't worry, I won't let her know."

"Miss Bubblegum," Strix hums with a tiny smile. "I like that name~"

"You do?" Crimson asks in astonishment, getting a sleepy nod from her in reply. "Truth be told, I was callin' yer sister that just to give her a hard time. Ain't really gotta use it anymore since I know her real name."

"Aww!" Strix hops in place, rather adorably at that. "That's, like, a waste of a cute nickname!"

"Heh, well," Crimson rubs his forehead with a smile, "you've also got the pink hair goin' on, just like yer sister. What if I called you Bubblegum?"

"Raaad~" Strix wiggles her body at the rhythm of her word. "I like your hair, dude. It's, like, this really sinister, intimidating shade of red... kind of like your name. Your name is Crimson, right?~"

"My middle name, yeah."

"Can I call you... Crimmy?"

"Quite a juxtaposition to the traits you just mentioned."

"I know right? That's why it's sooo cooool~ It, like, subverts your expectations!"

"You can call me whatever you like, Bubblegum."

"Ahaha, I love nicknames~ ... Duude, Crimmy," she begins, scanning her eyes up and down his frame, "you're, like, super tall... and tan... and so hairless," she speaks with her tiny, unwavering smile.

"Describes me pretty well."

"Like, I'm wilding out right now. The no-hair thing humans got going on really trips me out, and, like, I've never seen a human this close before!"

"A first fer everythin', I reckon."

"Can I give you a hug?"

With interest present on his face, Crimson looks down at Bulletpoint to see if he's got an opinion on the matter, to which he shrugs and lets the man choose for himself.

Deciding well for it, Crimson squats down and opens his arms up, motioning with all of his fingers for her approach. Strix happily trots over and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his and snuggling into him as she emits a soft coo of enjoyment.

She smells... odd, like a mixture of a natural earthiness and vanilla-scented candles, but it blends together with the rest of the room, making the scent quickly fade in acclimation. Her body is strangely warm even though she's lean and firm. Something this small producing this much body heat is quite unusual. To contrast her lean body, her coat is soft and a little thicker than usual, making the combination of softness and firmness come off as strangely exotic.

He definitely has time to feel her though, as she holds onto the hug for longer than anticipated. Much longer than anticipated. She even begins to gently rock him left and right, quietly humming a tune in her careless bliss.

Crimson turns his eyes towards Bulletpoint, giving him a wary smile that signals he isn't sure if this is normal or not. Bulletpoint himself returns a cheeky, seemingly-aware grin, raising his brows over and over to mock the man's ignorance. "Trust me, mate," the smirking stallion begins, "she'll be there aaall day if you let her."

"Uh... Bubblegum?" Crimson asks.

"Mhmm?~"

"Could I have a beer?"

She breaks the hug immediately, gasping as if she just realized something extremely important, "Hoh, of course! How rude of me not to offer a drink!"

"Even though them shits is mine," Bulletpoint mumbles facetiously.

Strix rubs Crimson's shoulders, keeping her unfading smile. "Let me get one for you~" she murmurs as she comes off of him, walking towards the kitchen with a fairly lazy step... which, Crimson notices that isn't actually making any sound. Her hooves step along the wooden floor, but emanate no noise. "Take a seat on the couch, dudes, make yourselves at home. Mi casa es tu casa~"

"Whatever the fuck that means," Bulletpoint utters.

"Means, 'my house is yer house,'" Crimson adds.

"'N of course you'd know," Bulletpoint nudges Crimson's side.

They both take her offer, moving to the couches in the living room. Crimson takes a seat in the biggest couch and effectively takes up two cushions, and Bulletpoint sits on the single-seater off to Crimson's left.

"This ain't even your house, Essie," Bulletpoint calls proddingly.

Glass bottles clacking together jingle in the kitchen as Strix acquires two from the lot, taking one bottle into her left wing and one bottle into her right. She closes the fridge door and promptly makes her way back to the living room. "Swirly says that it's our house... so, like, technically, it's my house too, dummy~"

She gives Bulletpoint his drink first, then she moves to give Crimson his, and he nods in appreciation as he extends his arm out to take it from her.

Her unwavering smile finally fades away into a frown of concern when she catches sight of his forearms, only now noticing their awfully beaten state. "Duuude, your arms! ... What happened?"

"The madlad took a fuckin' beatin' from the cap'n, that's what happened," Bulletpoint answers pragmatically.

Strix turns her attention to Crimson, visibly wondering if Bulletpoint's claim is true.

"Take a seat 'n I'll tell you all about it," the man pats the sofa cushion next to him.

Strix shakes her head repeatedly, "Not with your arms looking like... like... like a spoiled eggplant! That looks like it really hurts! -- Wait, I'll nab you some bandees from the bathroom!"

"Hey, it's alright, I--" Crimson stops himself as the petite pegasus lifts herself with her wings and hovers back to the bathroom, entering and rummaging inside. He watches her disappear behind the bathroom door, then he looks down at his arms. He examines them with mild concern, then he looks at Bulletpoint, "Are they really that bad?"

"They look fuckin' dire, mate. They were kinda bad before, but looks like they're gettin' worse. Essie's right, shit looks like a mess of rotten peaches. How isn't that hurtin' you?"

"I, eh... tend to get hurt a lot. For better or for worse, I've gotten so used to dealin' with pain that it practically lost its function."

"Fuckin' A, lad. Nerves of steel took to a new level."

"Daamn." Both Crimson and Bulletpoint hear Strix huff from the bathroom. She trots out steadily and heads towards the door to her room, "I'll be back real quick, dudes!"

"Where ye off to?" Bulletpoint asks curiously.

"Going to the supply closet down the hall. I, like, for real don't have any bandees in my bathroom! Watch Crimmy for me, B.P! Don't let him out of your sight!"

"Watch him? The fuck--?" Bulletpoint barely has time to respond before she exits the room and closes the door behind herself. "... Fuckin' chuckle'ead."

"Heh," Crimson reclines back into the couch, thoroughly entertained by the display. "So... that's yer friend, huh?"

"Ye, that's Essie. Always been kind of an odd one, but there's a charm in that, ey?"

"Agreed full-heartedly. She yer girlfriend or somethin'?"

"... That why you looked at me when she wanted to hug you?" Bulletpoint smirks.

"Yeah, actually."

"Pft, girlfriend. Me 'n Essie? Nah, mate. Wouldn't even think about it, especially not these days. She's like a sister to me, ya feel? Known the lass since I was a colt."

"Like a sister, hm?" Crimson muses dubiously, using his bare hands to uncap his bottle of beer.

Bulletpoint follows his lead, using his hoof to effortlessly knock the cap off of his own. Crimson tilts his bottle over to toast, and Bulletpoint tilts his in return, "Cheers." They both take a swig of the perfectly chilled beverage, enjoying the sensation of its contents racing down their esophagi. With a sigh and a wipe of his mouth, Bulletpoint continues, "Eyup, like a sister. Now, if we're talking Swirly, that's a different tale."

Crimson's brows raise in amusement before he takes another swig, letting the stallion continue.

"See, Swirly wan't always the serious type. Reckon you met her?"

"Sure did."

"So you know how she is, then." Crimson nods to his claim. "I'll start ya' from the beginnin'. I came from some shit'ole up north, next to a famous sight called the Neighagra Falls. About a mile East off of that beaut of a sight, I lived in some town that don't even have a fuckin' spot on the map, and everypony was poor as shit-all. Me mum was a whore, dad was a drunk farmer that bed whores. You can probably guess I was the result of mixin' the two. Lived me life as the mistake that I was. Constantly hungry, sleepin' on the ground, dealin' with ass'oles. Life was shite, 'n I had to deal with it till me tenth birthday."

"Damn. Sorry I'm havin' you bring back these memories, BP."

"Nah, mate, could give less of a fuck. Way I see it, you either move on, or you stay fucked."

"Amen to that."

"Anyways, I reckoned me life was a burnin' garbage bin for long enough, and one of me neighbors thought so too. She was a real angel, that mare. She was the only pony I can eva' rememba bein' close to. So when I turned old enough to ride the train by meself, she payed for me ticket and I moved to Cantalot to finish school, hopin' to get me life turned around. That's where I met Essie in phys-ed class, 'n through her, I met Swirly. Now, me bein' a little cockstain from a shite family, I was a troublemaka'. Funny thing was, so were the lasses. Mind, we was just kids, but, me, Swirly, and Essie always made'a mess of things. At school, at the park, at home, you name it, we's always gettin' in trouble and misbehavin' like a bunch'a mongrels."

"Bubblegum and Swirl? Troublemakers?" Crimson furrows his brows. "You, BP, I can see. Them? They don't quite come off as the delinquent type."

"Best believe it, mate. They was wild. 'Course, now they mellowed out 'n shit, but when they was rabid, we had a different fancy, ya feel?" He takes a hearty swig of his beer, popping his lips off the top loudly, contorting his face briefly as to swallow the copious amounts of bubbly liquid. "Swirly... she was a 'lil different. Always kind of competitive and hung around colts a lot. Bein' a unicorn 'n all, she wasn't the statue of physical prowess, ya dig. Still, she gave everythin' she did her all, even just to spite wankas that put her down. Maybe she was compensatin' for her name, but I couldn't tell ya. Her 'n I didn't really get along at first, but since I made friends with Essie 'n stuck with her, Swirly 'n I were forced to be around each other outside of school 'n shit. I couldn't count the details, but one thing led to anotha... the lass 'n I got comfy."

"Hmh," Crimson smirks with levity. "Hard to believe you're talkin' about the same hissy unicorn that yelled at me earlier today. These were different times."

"Oh, you bet. ... You really go 'n call her miss Bubblegum?"

Crimson nods cheekily.

"Where even at?"

"In her office, I think. At that place with the fancy desks that have sinks on 'em."

"Ye, the Royal Research Labs. I'm surprised you're still alive, mate."

"I reckon if she wasn't workin' on somethin' important, the outcome would'a been more tragic fer me."

"That's what I'm thinkin'," Bulletpoint chuckles warmly, just before trading his lightheartedness for an air of despondency. "... She 'n I spent years togetha. Essie's always been a flower about it too, and even helped us out when we'd get our necks in a twist. She'd always know what to say to get Swirly 'n me to make up after a bullshit argument. That's why I was never able to see Essie as anythin' but a sister. She became the family I never had."

"Good to see you 'n Bubblegum still kickin' it. ... But what about you 'n Swirl? The way you're makin' it sound, it don't seem like you two are a thing anymore."

"Eh," Bulletpoint shrugs and looks away, finding something interesting on the carpet somewhere.

"Not very convincin', B.P."

"Things changed, I'd say. She's still around, I still talk to her. I mean, this is her fuckin' residence. She lets me 'n Essie stay as long as we keep the place clean, so I'm clear to say she don't hate me. ... Just..." he cuts himself off to sigh and take another sip of his drink, "... guess things changed."

"Ever tried talkin' to Swirl about what might have changed?"

"Hooh, mate, I've tried. Tried more than several times. Nothin' ever came from it, and she's a busy lass these days. Me pesterin' her don't help nopony."

Crimson hangs his beer bottle by the end of his fingers, gently twirling it in circles from the top as he contemplates. "... You still wish you 'n her were a thing?"

Bulletpoint flaps his lips and shrugs, "At this point, I don't ev'n know. Maybe I do, maybe I don't... maybe... maybe I--"

The door to the room opens up, interrupting Bulletpoint as both him and Crimson look over. Strix comes trotting in with several rolls of toilet paper and bundled bandage wrappings in her mouth and wings. "Mmm-bph!" she calls, bumping the door with her flank to close it. She carelessly tosses the toilet paper rolls and bundled bandages into the restroom, save for one bundle that she's aiming to use.

"Took ya long enough," Bulletpoint says teasingly, shifting his demeanor a little too quickly.

"Sorry, dudes!" she apologizes as she makes her way towards Crimson. "The supply closet was, like, locked! So I had to get a maid to open it." She stands before the man, placing herself in between his knees as she uses her right wing to reach out and take his left arm, the arm that doesn't hold his drink. "Let doctor Strix fix you up~"

Crimson sits up and lets his arm become taken by her feathered appendage, which admittedly feels very bizarre. Unlike birds and other winged creatures, the feathers on these ponies are pretty big and easy to count, and they feel quite fuzzy.

She uses her mouth and her hooves to manipulate the bandage wrap, twirling it around his wrist first before moving down to the rest of his forearm. From the slight sting Crimson feels with these wraps, they're already pre-treated and only require placement. Him and Bulletpoint watch her perform her methodical motions, until she uses her teeth to bite off the wrap and tie it all together. She then reaches with her wings and rests them on his right arm, but she waits before pulling it towards her, allowing Crimson the ability to pass his drink off to his left hand.

She continues mending him, and he focuses on the expertly-done wrapping on his left forearm. He twists his wrist a few times, swishing the beer gently, getting a feel for the bandages. "You an actual doctor?" Crimson asks.

"Something like that~" Strix replies sleepily, "I'm a field medic." She bites down the end of the wrap and ties it firmly, gently rubbing his shoulder with the tip of her wing, "Good as new. They're not, like... too tight or anything?"

"They're just right. Appreciate it, Bubblegum."

She nods sets the bandage wrap down on the table. She climbs up onto the couch and sits next to Crimson. "So, what was that thing you were saying? It had Captain Snowfall in it?"

"Right," Crimson takes a swig of his beer to finish it off before setting the bottle down on the coffee table. While he speaks, his eyes are captivated by the gently churning lava lamp that shines the dim room an assortment of colors. "So, I was havin' a stroll around the Castle, lookin' for some place to relax. Figured outside would be the best place fer that. Made it out to the fields back there, with all them guards, 'n I sat down under a shady tree."

"The one that's, like, near the barracks and the sparring circle?"

"The same one. I'm sittin' there and almost fall asleep, but from the noise, I realize that the sparrin' circle's not too far off. Open my eyes enough to see the action, 'n before I know it, I'm draw in by the pre-zen-tation. So there I am, watchin' and havin' a gay-ol time, but next thing I know, Snowfall 'n this fella called Banter stride up to me, and the Banter fella wants to tussle."

"Banter," Strix murmurs. "Wanting to fight you def sounds like something he'd do."

"Should'a been there, Essie," Bulletpoint exclaims. "This bloke took Banta out for a joy-ride. Spun him like a ragdoll over his head so hard, he nearly chucked his breakfast."

"Hehaha! You spun him?" Strix chuckles happily, getting a nod from Crimson. "You spun him, like... like... WooOooOoo!" she wiggles her body in a manner that hardly represents what happened.

"Heh, yeah, somethin' like that," Crimson exults. "I tried to help him up afterwards, but he blew me off. Some pack'a fellas came in and helped him out instead."

"Ye, Banta's 'lil posse. They're like his fan club. Them fucks are almost as bad as Banta himself."

"Sounds like I pissed off more than one person," Crimson mulls.

"Considerin' they hang onto whatever comes out'a Banta's cheeky fuckin' mouth, I'd reckon so too."

"But, like," Strix gently pushes Crimson's shoulder with both of her hooves, trying to recapture his attention, "what about Captain Snowfall?" The pushing is soft and easy, but Crimson moves his body to playfully exaggerate the motion.

"Mm, right. So, after I got done with Banter's little ho-down, yer captain asked me fer my name. Told her I'd give it to her if she beat me in a spar. Wasn't really a spar, since I wasn't fightin' back, but the deal was, she had to land one hit. Just one, and she'd win."

"Right embarrassed the captain of the Royal Guard, he did!" Bulletpoint points at him excitedly.

"Wuuh? Nu-uh!" Strix's dazzled self shifts in place excitedly.

"I'm tellin' ya, Essie, you should'a seen him! Cap'n couldn't land a hit, then, at the end, Crimz'n grabbed her like one of them vines do ya' in the Everfree!"

"Well," a small smile grows on Crimson's face as he rubs the back of his head, "That... ain't really what happened." Bulletpoint furrows his brows, waiting for the elaboration. "Heh, so, uh, Snowfall actually beat me. It's why I told her my name at the end."

"The fuck? How, mate? You lit'relly blocked every hit!"

"Not all of 'em. When she first started attackin' me, I blocked the first... what was it... three or four? Somethin' like that. The next hit, a real sly uppercut, actually hit me on the tip of my nose. It wasn't the cleanest hit, but it connected. So, by my own rules, I lost at the very beginnin'. I was lookin' to stop after that 'n take my loss, but I noticed she kept hittin' me... reckon she actually didn't realize she landed a hit. So, I kept blockin' her attacks, 'n needless to say, that tricky little uppercut didn't get me again."

"So..." Strix ponders, "your forearms got mushed up 'cuz you kept taking hits from the captain?"

"Sums it up."

"You're wicked~"

Bulletpoint slowly shakes his head as he chuckles, "You done left the cap'n's pride in shambles, 'n she didn't even lose."

Crimson shrugs, "Way I see it, she didn't lose to me, she lost to herself."

"Fuckin' A, wait till she hears this tale. She'll prolly be right pissed."

Strix gently pushes Crimson's shoulder again, just as she did before, "You killed that beer, dude. Want me to fetch you another?"

"If it ain't a bother."

"Mm-mm~" she shakes her head, climbing down from the couch and heading towards the kitchen again.

"'N get me another too, Essie!" Bulletpoint cries, swigging down his current one until it's finished.

"Mm-hmm!"

"So," Crimson begins, "I've been wonderin'."

"Ye?" Bulletpoint reclines in his seat.

"Remember I said earlier I had questions about Canterlot?"

"Ye. You meanin' stuff like the Princess?"

"Yeah, stuff like that. More-so like the order of power in Equestria."

"Mn, Essie?" he looks over his shoulder, seeing her return with a beer in each wing. "Think you've got this spectrum."

She gleefully hangs each bottle for their taking, followed by the sound of simultaneous popping of both beverages when they open them at the same time.

"Thanks, Bubblegum," Crimson smiles at her.

"No biggie!~ ... Aaalright, so... the order of power in Equestria. That's a funny thing to be interested in."

"Just tryin' to familiarize myself with the world around me. You're more knowledgeable in this than B.P. apparently."

"Mmm-hm," she nods, climbing back onto the couch and sitting next to him again. "My duty in the guard is, like, Information Specialist and stuff, so... I know lots of weird and kookie things~"

"Color me impressed," Crimson raises his brows. "That's one surprise outta many you got, I'd reckon."

"Yeah, dude~ Do you wanna know another surprise?"

"Lay it on me."

"Did you know, I was born with, like, -- well, the doctors call them birth defects, but I call them gifts -- but, pretty much, my hoof bones are smaller and shaped weirdly, and I've got dense fur on the ends of my hooves, so when I walk around, I don't make any noise. It isn't any trouble for my health, but it does make sneaking in and out of places pretty easy~ It's why Snowfall chose me as Infiltrator and Information Specialist~"

"I noticed that. Walkin' on the wood floor in the kitchen, I couldn't hear yer hooves at all. Thought I was goin' crazy for a minute."

"Gets annoyin', you best believe," Bulletpoint huffs.

"Yeah?" Crimson ask in return.

"'Cuz, fuckin' Essie loves sneakin' up on ponies 'n ridin' them in for a startlin'."

Strix giggles and closes her eyes, "You're too easy to scare, BP~ Like this one time, I-- -- Uhp, oh! Wait, I'm getting distracted... ehehe, sorry, Crimmy~"

"Don't fret, we ain't in no rush."

"... What was the question again? ... Hoh, I remembered! The order of power." She looks at the man to catch his approving nod. "Yeah, so like, Equestria is ruled under Celestia and Luna. They do all the laws and stuff, with the help of the Royal Consortium, which is just, like, a fancy name for a bunch of snobby ponies that think they're better than everypony else."

"Wait..." Crimson halts her, "... Luna? There's another princess?"

"Mm-hmm~ Luna, the Princess of the Night. You maybe haven't seen her because, like... she's only out at night. Oo! This one time, it was two in the morning and I was really hungry, so I went to the master kitchen to get some munchies. I opened one of the fridges, got a box of strawberries out, and went for the door... but as soon as I opened it... boo! Luna was right there and she scared me!"

"... What?" Bulletpoint furrows. "Luna scared you? Real shit?"

"Real as real can get, BP!"

"That how it went down?" he asks doubtfully. "Luna went 'n rode you in for a scare?"

"Well... it was more like, she didn't expect me to be there, so I scared her so bad that she screamed big time... and her scream scared me. It was super loud! You know her Royal Canterlot Voice? It was even louder than that! ... But anyways... like, yeah, the two sisters rule Equestria and stuff. Hehe~"

"And under them must be the Royal Researchers?" Crimson inquires.

"Mmm... almost," she tilts her hoof left and right. "It's... kind of a weird tree-type thingy. After the princesses, the Heads of Bodies are next, which are the Captain of the Royal Guard and the Head Researcher. Then it branches into more and more ponies. They're all in charge of their own little pieces, but Celestia rules them all when she needs to."

"Gotcha," he says before downing a swig of his drink. "So there's two Heads of Bodies, you call 'em?" Strix nods happily at him. "I've gotten pretty familiar with the Robes already, so what about the Guard?"

"What about it?" she asks curiously.

"What's the deal with the silver armor versus the gold? I've seen some pretty important ponies wearin' it. Is it somethin' given to high ranks?"

"Mmm... mm-mm," she shakes her head slowly. "Gold is for everypony in the Guard, no matter the rank. What does change is the rank on the breastplate and the color of the crest on the helmet. Red is lower-class, blue is upper-class, and white is Specialist. Anypony who has silver armor has a white crest. And you might be thinking, 'But Bubblegum, how do you get the pretty silver armor?'" her merry high-pitched voice tries to copy his deeper tone.

"You must be clairvoyant."

"Haha, I knew it~" she leans against his side and bounces herself off it. "So, like, we get two tests that we need to get good grades on, and if we don't, we faail! One is a physical test, and the other is a skill test. It doesn't matter what rank you are, if you do good, you can get a position in the Specialist Team. There's different positions, like Infiltrator, Spell Specialist, Tactician, Ranger, Field Commander, and a bunch of other stuffs. You get whatever position you apply for, or whatever you're best at."

"Do them silver-armored guys do somethin' special in the Guard?"

"Well... when we're chilling at Canterlot, we just do whatever our rank tells us to do. Like me, a low-ranking sergeant, my job is just to wander in a pattern around the Castle and make sure everypony's okay. Bulletpoint as an officer, he can give orders and he guards important stuff, like Princess Celestia."

Bulletpoint buffs his chest in pride.

"Princess Celestia is a pretty important stuff, I'd reckon," Crimson mutters airily.

"Psshehe yeah," Strix snickers, "but what makes us in silver special is that we get deployed on, like, super secrete missions and stuff~ The things that are too dangerous or secret for the normal dudes to handle? That's what we do~"

"Suppose that's why they only take the best of the best."

"Ye," Bulletpoint nods, "and it's also why I give big kudos to the cap'n. The lass has been at this shtick for so long that she don't even need to be a Specialist for a higher pay-grade, she's at the tippy-top already. Yet, she's still spec-ops 'n risks her life with the rest of us muckers. Mad respect to that, ya feel."

"That, and she's super down-to-earth~" Strix murmurs. "She's strict, but she's so real, y'know?"

"Wouldn't doubt it," Crimson concedes. "Knew there was somethin' I liked about Snowfall. Now that I really think about it, there's a lot of swell ponies around. Not everythin' was sunshine when I got here, but in almost two weeks of bein' in Equestria, there's been great company all around. Especially you two."

"D'aw~" Strix brings herself in and hugs his upper arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Right back at'cha, ye wanka." Bulletpoint sips his beer quickly and huffs, feeling the bubbly liquid warming his insides.

"Good vibes all around~" Strix coos and reclines into the couch with satisfaction.

"That makes me wonder, mate. Moonlight. Been tryin'a keep her privacy respected 'n shite, but I'm getting too curious now."

"Wah?" Strix sits up quickly. "Moonlight?"

"Ye. Just between us, this bloke came to see Celest'cha yesterday morn'. Lighty was with 'em."

Strix releases an exaggerated gasp. "Whooaa! No way! Moonlight! She's back!? Like, actually back!?"

"Like BP said," Crimson starts, "let's keep that between us... but... yeah. It's, uh... it's a pretty long story." He takes a swig some of his drink. "Not sure how much I should really talk on the matter."

"J-Just, umm," Strix stutters with her eyes donning a shimmer, "y-you don't have to tell us tons of details and stuff, but... is... is she okay?"

The man looks towards the lava lamp again, letting out a contemplative exhale. "Yeah. She's definitely doin' okay. Least, I hope so." He finally notices the clock that sits on the wall in front of him, the same wall that houses the exit to the room. He sees the time approaching late eve. "... Shit."

"Somethin' the matter, mate?" Bulletpoint inquires cautiously.

"I, uh... I'm thinkin' I need'a get goin'. It's late, 'n Moonlight's probably waitin' fer me to get back. Guess there was a rush after all."

"Aww!" Strix drives her forehead into his shoulder, rubbing it against him. "Don't go!"

Crimson turns his face to smile warmly at her despite her inability to see him. "We can have another shin-dig like this one soon. And how about this? The next time we hang out, I'll see about gettin' Moonlight with us."

She gasps with prospective joy. "You promise?"

"Promise."

Strix nods with a tiny frown, the first frown she has ever given him. He nods to her and then to Bulletpoint before he excuses himself from the room.

‎

~~~<

‎

Moonlight's tongue sticks out of her mouth slightly as she focuses on turning a screwdriver with her magic, sitting the last screw that closes the little cube she's assembling. The little box has a screen on one face, similar to the screen on the bigger ANA device back at her home. It has two buttons under the screen and two dials, one of the left side of the screen and the other to the right.

She sets down the screwdriver and straightens up her slouched posture, mounting with excitement at her finished product. She had been working continuously on this little contraption with only interruptions to acquire lunch and dinner from the maid. With the moon now gazing through her window and the muffled sounds of the night, her tired eyes are ready for rest.

She levitates the little box closer to her, suspending it right in front of her face. In profound hope that everything works as intended, she presses the green button under the screen. The little box hums for a moment, making her ears perk up in anticipation.

Be-Deet!

The screen lights up, showing a green line beginning its trek across the screen. "Yes! Haha! Yes!" Moonlight beams with glee, hugging the little box against her chest.

"Someone's a little excited," Crimson announces from right next to her.

"HUH!" her body shocks in fright, harshly startled at his unannounced appearance. Crimson catches the little box when her magic fails to maintain itself, saving it from a possibly terrible tumble to the marble floor. "Crimson!" she calls angrily.

"What? I caught it at least."

"You scared me!" She huffs and adjusts her glasses, turning to look at him, "When did you get in here?"

"When you were screwin' this here cube together. You seriously didn't hear the door?"

Moonlight glances at the doors to her room briefly. "... I suppose I didn't. ... You, um... you smell strange."

"Heh, yeah. I would think so."

"Uhm... h-how was your day? Was it eventful? And-- ... wait a minute... what happened to your arms? And those cuts on your cheeks?"

"Ah, nothin' much, just had a little run-in with the Guard. Don't worry, though, it ain't nothin'. Harmless sparrin' is all. I actually got to know some of the folks in the Guard, did a little drinkin' with some pals... and..." Crimson trials off when he sees Moonlight's magic envelop his forearms. The bandages that have done well to hide the bruises and bleeding come off, revealing the atrocious state that they're in.

With a heart-sunk gasp, Moonlight's trembling eyes bounce between his and his forearms. "... Crimson!?"

"Moonlight, really, it ain't that bad."

"Bad? Bad!? This is horrible! Crimson, what did you do!?"

"Like I said, just some harmless sparrin'. It ain't nothin' to get worked up over."

"No! This is not okay, Crimson! Why would you go get yourself hurt like this? I am officially postponing tomorrow's endeavor until you are better!"

"Tomorrow? What was goin' on tomorrow?"

"We were going to a town in West Equestria, where Celestia's scouts had reported the presence of magical anomalies. But not anymore, until your body properly recovers! I can't stand the idea of you being hurt while outside, it's extremely dangerous and I won't risk it."

"... Moonlight? You do realize the entire point of me goin' out with you to these field tasks IS to get hurt protecting you? If a little somethin' like this is enough to stop me, I wouldn't be the best guardian, would I?"

"W-Well, yes, b--but--but... no! You need to get better, and that's final," she demands as she uses her magic to effortlessly re-wrap the bandages around Crimson's arms, seeing that they're still usable.

"And what if I told you we're goin' out tomorrow either way?" he replies sternly.

"... T-Then... then, I..." she stammers, scrunching her muzzle as she fails to counter his assertion.

Crimson steps closer to her, placing the hand that doesn't hold the cube on her back, gently running his nails up and down her body. Her back straightens, and her tense form slowly relaxes with the affection.

"I..." she begins warily, very much still apprehensive, but not enough to argue against him any longer. "... I just don't want anything bad to happen to you while we're out there..."

"But nothin' bad will happen to me, Lighty. I promise you. And I ain't one to break my promises, even if things don't turn out to be so simple. A promise is a promise. And I say tomorrow is a go."

"... I suppose we... could go, then... if you truly insist."

"I do. Won't lie 'n say I'm not eager. It could be fun, right?"

"M... Maybe. I'm... honestly a little eager to go too. W-Well, maybe not... eager, but I do look forward to it. ... I know you're aware that I don't like being in Canterlot very much... I'd rather be somewhere else, even if for only a while. ... A-And besides! I know the town we're going to, I've been there to collect soil samples before. It's a nice little farming town, very pleasant ponies live there."

"And I reckon this is the tool we're going to use in our endeavor tomorrow," he says as he holds the cube in front of Moonlight. "You were real focused on gettin' this thing finished, but it looks like you did. What is it anyway?" he asks as he brings the cube to himself, looking at the pulsating green line that lazily travels along the length of the screen.

"The cube you hold is officially the mini ANA! She does everything her bigger counterpart can do, but in a smaller, portable size! If any wayward magic is to be found, she'll catch it! I was, um, ehehe... hoping I could build a regular ANA, but I didn't have enough supplies. But with a few twists and turns of the regular blueprint, I managed to make a smaller one! I think a mini version that can be carried around will be much more useful in the long run."

"Completely agreed. And you said this place we're headed to is a little farmin' town?" Moonlight nods to him. "Be nice to finally explore Equestria without somethin' crazy happenin'."

Crimson catches Moonlight lift her hoof over her muzzle, yawning quietly behind it before she promptly returns her attentive gaze to him. He finds her interest in his words and whim adorable, but it's terribly obvious by the tiny bags forming under her eyes that she needs some sleep, and his gentle touch is only adding to her urge for rest.

"Looks like it's time to hit the hay." Crimson sets down the box onto the lab table, gently rubbing her back before he stops tending to her. "You've been at that thing all day."

Moonlight nods, keeping her eyes lowered and fixed to the mini ANA. "... Are you going to sleep now too?"

"Yeah, gotta be up bright 'n early for tomorrow, I'd reckon."

"... Did you find the guest bed in the room you slept in comfortable?"

"Eeh, it was... mm..." Crimson purses his lips, thinking of something nice to say before he settles on, "a little different from what I usually sleep on, but it's comfy enough. A bed's a bed, all that matters to me. Reckon I'd better get used to it, since I'll be layin' on it for some time."

Moonlight's musing gaze remains on the flat, traveling green line in the mini ANA's screen. A voice in her head wants her to speak up, to give a brazen offer equal to the one he gave a few days ago back at her home... but she remains silent, leaving both of them in the quiet of the night.

"Right, well," Crimson begins, putting his hands in his pockets, "I'mma go crash out. See you in the mornin', Moonlight."

Before Crimson can step forward and head to the doors, Moonlight puts her hoof on his upper arm, using every ounce of her frail interpersonal fortitude to stammer, "H-Hug?"

Crimson stops himself and turns his head to look at her, how she's leaning forward in her stool to the point of nearly tipping forward just to touch his arm. With a smile, he spins himself around, wrapping his arms around her as he brings her up off of the stool to hold her against him, one hand on her back and the other her flank. The side of her head rests against his, and her arms wrap tightly around the back of his neck. For a number of reasons, her breath comes out shakily as they embrace each other.

He walks with her in his hold towards the stairs, moving up to her bedroom. As he does, he admires her softness, her texture, and her silky-smooth coat. His fingertips sink slightly into her plentiful body, making her such a treat to hold. Her scent is flowery and pleasant, a complete contrast to what he probably smells like right now. Moonlight does not appear offput by this, and that is what matters to him.

He sets her down on her bed, breaking the hold they had on one another. A small smile that had formed on her face slowly fades when they let go of each other. Crimson steps backwards, putting his hands in his pockets again. As he backpedals, he smiles and calls to her, "G'night, Moonlight."

As she watches him turn and make his way down the steps, she musters enough of herself to return a somber, "... Goodnight."

She remains in place, listening to his flip-flops clack across the marble floor downstairs. The doors to her room moan as they are opened, and the click of the shutting finalizes his exit.

She lies down and rests her head on a pillow, levitating Soap over to herself and hugging him tightly as her tired eyes remain open in thought.

Act 5: Apex Predator

~ Canterlot Castle, Moonlight's Room ~<
February 3rd, Tuesday, 8:47

‎

"That's a lot of books," Crimson comments as he watches Moonlight pack her light blue saddlebags.

"I-Is there... something wrong with them?" she briefly pauses to give him a worried look.

"Ah, nah, I've never been against a good read. But I don't think those-many books are gonna be fun to carry around."

"The trip is going to take a few hours, so I... you know... want to bring enough entartainment."

For a moment, Crimson tries to come up with a response, moving his eyes between her and the four novels that she shoved into her bags. He realizes that, while he might not be able to read several books in a span of few hours, maybe she can. And maybe she will. She also does not seem to care how heavy her bags will be, so with that, he submits voluntarily. "Good idea."

Moonlight flips up the hood on her robe with her magic, getting her horn through the hole at the top and shaking her head to make it sit. She then fixes her saddlebags around her waist, tying the belt over her belly to keep it snug. With a deep inhale to supply her fortitude, she looks up at the man. "Are you ready to go, Crimson?"

Though he sees the apprehensive energy in her eyes, he simply returns, "Sure am."

"Please follow me." Moonlight makes anxious haste out of the room. Crimson closes the doors behind them. Together, they wander through the Castle. Very much like the first time Moonlight paraded him through these royal halls, the stares from ponies around are heavy and abundant.

Crimson finds something peculiar about this round of eyes though. Unlike before, they aren't coming off as judgmental or cynical, or at least, they don't feel that way. Whether it be a maidmare or stallion in a tux, interest is present in the faces of those around. Although the hesitation to openly approach him or Moonlight is still there, they certainly seem less oppressive. Whatever it was that changed, he hopes that it stays that way. It'll be easier to move around Canterlot without everyone looking ready to cry wolf.

This phenomenon even follows him outside of the Castle walls. Pedestrian ponies of all sorts wandering about the city cease their morning movement to stare at him, whispering to each other with raised brows. It's easy enough for him to ignore as they make their way through the marble streets.

Once Moonlight and Crimson arrive at the station, the train awaits them with an open boarding door, in part by Moonlight's expert timing. She pays for two pony tickets, allowing access to herself and the human with her. They both board the fairly-occupied train and get situated at the back of the cart where fewer ponies sit, with Crimson taking up a fair chunk of the room next to the window and Moonlight taking the isle seat.

Stares from passengers in other parts of the cart are definite, but at least they're not trying to physically interact with him. It's also apparent that Moonlight isn't too keen on taking her hood off with all of these ponies around, and with the notion that none of them seem to know who she is, she might keep it that way for the rest of the ride.

The train begins to move when the doors close and the whirling whistle outside chimes.

Crimson feels a nudge at his side, followed by Moonlight's softly-whispered voice, “Eat this.” She takes out an oatmeal bar from the small pouch on her saddlebag and levitates it to him. He takes it and unwraps it. “Our destination is the White Tail woods. ... And before you say or do anything, I highly advise taking a nap. I neglected mentioning this yesterday in hopes that you would get proper sleep last night, but you look even worse today."

"M--" Crimson halts himself from using her name overtly. "... I'm fine, don't worry about me," he mumbles, taking a chunk of the oatmeal bar into his mouth.

"No. You're not. You look absolutely ghastly. You and I need to have a talk about this when we get back. Please... take a nap. If not for yourself, then for me.”

Crimson sighs through his nose, nodding reluctantly with a mouthful of oatmeal bar.

Moonlight lets out a deep breath and sits backed into her seat. She looks down at her hooves gloomily.

Her mind begins an unending race with itself, pulling up thoughts and memories of times past, re-engaging her self-loathing inclinations that have become more prominent over the years in her isolation. Expectations unlived, relationships ruined, and failures amassed. It happens randomly. It happened just before she returned to Canterlot for the first time in years, and it even happened last night. That crushing weight that rises in her heart. No matter how hard she tries to suppress it around others so they keep their pity and worries away, it's dominating her now, and she has no choice but to try and ride it out.

She begins to unwillingly fidget in her seat, doing her best to keep it as stifled as possible. She hopes no one notices, especially not Crimson. The last thing she wants to do is worry him.

As the train moves along its course and Canterlot becomes further away, her tension rises and the overbearing stress eats away at her. It feels like needles are poking her skin all throughout her body, and it's becoming unbearably hot under her robe.

She thinks... she thinks maybe a good book could help her out. She uses her magic to open her left saddlebag... but she ceases any movement right after, suspended in viciously cycling brooding that drains her of motility.

...

"...!" she suddenly shivers in startlement. She feels Crimson's left arm wrap around her and take her into his embrace, effectively breaking the circuit of her self-deprecating mind.

Her cheeks and ears heat up from the sudden contact, though hidden under her hood. She is terribly unsure whether he's doing this simply because he can, or because he knew what was happening to her, but she doesn't fight it.

There's that sensation again, and it seeps perfectly through the cloth she wears. The same sensation she feels every time his hand touches her. She's always had a suspicion it came from him... but she wonders no longer. It does come from him. That oddly relaxing tide of delight in his hold, like if he was somehow sucking away the stress that was building inside of her. Like an oasis to hydrate a wandering soul in the desert, his touch soothes the toxicity that was vitiating in her head.

She trepidly shifts her eyes to the man that holds her, tilting her head to look out from under her hood. She witnesses his glowing irises shimmering softly with gold. She watches the magma-like essence in his orbs lazily swirl in circles, finding herself entranced at their sight.

Seemingly unaware of himself, Crimson continues chewing on his snack as he gazes out to the city of Canterlot, watching it become more and more distant while the train continues on.

Once Moonlight realizes that she's been staring at his face for too long, she turns her head away quickly and lets her ears fall, moving her eyes to the train cart floor. She wants to be embarrassed at herself, she wants to feel a mountain of negative sentiments, but under his hold, she finds it difficult to stress about anything. She even feels drowsiness kicking in. The anxiety attack she had last night didn't allow her to sleep at all, and her constant worrying about today's endeavor further served to keep her awake. She only managed to find rest in the early hours of the morning, which was abruptly interrupted by Crimson wandering into her room to wake her up.

It doesn't take long for her to take her own advice. She closes her eyes and leans against the human who holds her, and for the meantime, she distances herself from her troubles.

‎

‎

~ Equestria, White Tail Junction ~<
February 3rd, Tuesday, 15:49

‎ ‎

The train comes to a steaming halt. Crimson and Moonlight are both wide awake. The trip took several hours, and in that time, Crimson ate all of the snacks and Moonlight managed to read through an entire book.

Crimson is nothing short of bewildered at her ability to scan words at such a high speed. It was a fairly thick book, but she ran through it effortlessly. Moonlight had offered him a book to read and he accepted it, but he quickly found out that he can't read written Ponish. Moonlight found this phenomenon overwhelmingly exciting, and now English is another thing on the list of items she wishes to study.

The boarding doors open. Very few ponies are in the train now and no one boards, and the only two to get off at White Tail junction is the odd pair. The door closes, and the train is back on its path, leaving them effectively stranded for the next few hours.

Crimson looks up towards the sun. He sees that it’s already on its way down, with maybe two hours of daylight left. Moonlight takes out her mini-ANA from her saddlebag and presses the green button under the screen, waiting for the little chime.

Be-Deet!

She smiles slightly as she watches it come to life. The lazy green line that usually travels along the screen is now wobbling frantically, and the device begins to squeal like a radiation detector. She adjusts the nobs on the left and right sides of the screen, changing the squirming green line in the interface for a green-lined topographic map of the detected region.

"What's the little beepin' box sayin'?" Crimson asks.

"The magic signature is coming from the nearby town mentioned in the reports. Celestia's scouts have yet to fail!"

"How do you know this magic signature is the one we're lookin' for?"

"The Second-Head Researcher managed to find the signature of the magic anomalies yesterday. He sent me a letter via scroll-send spell. It was perfect timing that he found such valuable information at just the right time."

"Second-Head knows you're at Canterlot?"

"Y-Yes. Everypony in the team knows now. I sent letters out yesterday informing the team in Las Pegasus, since you informed the Canterlot team already."

"Guessin' they're the only ones to know. The ponies in the city aren't any wiser."

"They're the only ones I want knowing. I'm... kind of in charge of them, even if I don't do a very good job as a leader. ... Please, follow me." She marches forward, stepping down from the platform and across the train tracks. She takes a dirt road into the White Tail woods, and they proceed along this path for a while.

Crimson looks around as they walk, letting the sound of nature please his ears. Moonlight is giving her full attention to the device held in her hoof, following its directions and sound cues. She would hold it with her magic, but doing so would interfere with its signal.

"Do they know you're doin' field ops now?"

"Mm, no. The only pony who knows we're out here today is Princess Celestia."

"You spoke to her?"

"... Nnnot exactly..."

"I wrote her a letter." "You wrote her a letter." They speak simultaneously, drawing a chuckle from Crimson and a timid smile from Moonlight.

"Why're you writin' letters to her if you're like a ten minute walk away from her throne?"

"She's a very busy pony. The only reason she was at her throne the first day we were here was that she anticipated us. She halted several meetings she needed to attend to just to see us. The only real way to communicate to her is by her call, reservation, or by letter. She always reads my letters and replies every night, so that's what I use to talk to her."

"It's almost like nothin' changed from being in yer other house. You're still just writin' letters to everyone. ... You ever gonna go out 'n wander at some point?"

"... I don't know yet. L-Let's keep focused on this for now, okay?" she begs him trepidly. He gives her a nod in response, silencing himself until they reach their destination.

Eventually, the woods give away and the path expands into a dirt field. Moonlight lifts her gaze up from the directions on her mini-ANA. “... Oh dear."

Crimson returns from his stargazing to see what she's referring to. Just ahead of them is a small town, the shambles and remnants of one. They watch it from a distance, scanning for signs of life, but find none. The only sight they encounter is broken, burnt, and destroyed wooden structures that litter the ground. Few buildings still stand among the smoking ruins.

They move forward into the town. It seems to have a similar style to Dodge, but with buildings built parallel to each other, instead of a T-shape.

Crimson scratches his head, “Looks like somethin’ just sacked this place.”

“And recently too."

The two see drying blood around the town, random splotches of it, scattered around in a way that can only be described by frantic horror. Bones are scattered in the same manner as the blood, yet no bodies are to be found. The cues around give the idea that the bodies were either completely decimated or moved elsewhere. The buildings that are burnt still have gently smoking embers, small orange specks of burning ash that still have seconds of life left.

Moonlight returns her attention to her mini-ANA, slowly moving between each building and its rubble to scan with her device. Crimson walks down the middle of this town, glancing at everything that encompasses him with sharp eyes. He figures that whatever it was that ran down this place, it might still be around.

He sees something strangely pastel under a pile of rubble and wood. He walks towards the front of a broken-down shop, standing just before this pile of interest. He kicks some of the rubble off with the side of his foot, revealing a corpse. He sees the top-half of a dead, fairly young stallion. The face of this poor pony is that of utter fear, the last expression he made before his life was cut short.

Crimson looks at the corpse lazily, unbothered by its existence, more-so interested that this is the only body to be found in the wreckage. He proceeds to kick off some more of the rubble, revealing that the top-half is the only part of the body that remains. His lower half is completely absent, where a blood-pool and intestinal tracts take the place of where his hindlegs would have been. Crimson crouches down, examining the sever-point on the stallion's body. “… Doesn’t look like any sorta weapon split this guy," he mutters to himself. "... Ain't never seen flesh ripped like this before. Like a giant coyote got to 'em."

"NUH! HUWAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Crimson’s head snaps like a turret when he suddenly hears a terrified scream come from Moonlight. He steps back into the open, catching glimpse of her standing at the entrance of the town’s rundown saloon a few meters off. “Moonlight!?”

Her ANA is beeping loudly. She turns and runs as fast as her unconditioned body will allow her to, weighed down by the books in her saddlebag. Crimson darts forward and meets her halfway, letting her run behind him and press herself against the back of his legs. He remains looking at the saloon, furrowing his brows at whatever it was that caused her fear.

“What? What was it?” Crimson asks hurriedly. Moonlight's quivering form fails to reply with anything coherent, so he keeps his eyes focused on the saloon.

...

He waits in silence. He only hears the mini-ANA's wailing, the breeze of the evening, and Moonlight's skittish breaths.

He balls his hands into fists, raising his focus against the eerie nothingness.

...

The side of the saloon is suddenly smashed through, and the entire building comes crumbling down. A figure rises from the dust and ash, flying up and landing in the center of the town with a ground-trembling slam.

Twenty meters out from where the duo stand, is a large, sharp-scaled dragon. Standing three-times as large as the human before him, the black and orange-shaded creature chews on something in its mouth, staring down menacingly at the human and pony. Moonlight is shaking uncontrollably.

Before Crimson has the chance to say anything, the dragon spits the item it chewed, a bone sharpened like a pike. It travels like a bullet towards him.

His hand moves in a snap, catching the bone just inches before its jagged broken end impales his chest. Moonlight gasps and flinches, gritting her teeth as she expected the worst. But as Crimson still stands, she returns her horrified gaze up to him. He reaches his arm forward, letting the bone simply drop onto the dirt. His brows furrow deeper in aggravation.

The dragon looks rather amused at the man's skillful catch that saved his life, now finding himself in need to hunt his food before he can consume it.

“Moonlight. Run.”

The dragon tilts its looming head when the human speaks. Moonlight’s chest burns with the urge to question and scream, but she heeds to his word and scatters instead. She uses her wobbling, terrified legs to turn around and run.

The dragon watches her as she runs away to the far end of the town. He spreads his wings and steps to the side, wanting to intercede the fleeing pony for an easy kill.

Crimson steps to the side as well, mimicking the motions of the dragon to keep himself as the center of focus.

Further amused with this human, the dragon returns back to his original position. Crimson does as well. The two gawk at each other. The dragon’s bright orange eyes dilate in a reptilian manner, realizing that this nuisance must perish before he can dine again... but he has a better idea. He'll take advantage of this human's lack of vertical mobility to mortify him and kill the pony he wishes to defend.

Without warning, the dragon jumps off the ground and takes to the sky.

Crimson's eyes open wide, his irises beam in their now-golden state. He squats down, his muscles tense viciously, and with a grunt, he launches himself up with a powerful jump.

The unsuspecting dragon is intercepted mid-air. The man latches onto the dragon’s sharp, curving scales, and with a mighty heave, he spins around with the dragon in his grip, throwing the massive reptile downwards.

The heavy creature collides into the dirt below, but he is quick to rise and leap out of the way as Crimson falls back down while driving his gold-enveloped fist into the dirt. The impact causes a gust of wind to vent in a circle around him.

The dragon returns to his original stand-off position. The human rises slowly, fanning his hand that he used to hit the ground.

The dragon’s eyes squint, staring into the golden orbs that lie in the skull of this human. He now realizes that this man isn't as simple as he initially assumed. He now speaks, his voice is deep, rumbling, and slow. “In my many years of life, you are unlike anything I have ever seen.”

“I'd bet,” Crimson replies indignantly.

“A human who can… speak words. A human who is… strong. Capable. Not many creatures can say they've thrown... a dragon. You are talented. You are… very rare. ... Unfortunately for you, that is how I enjoy my meat.”

Crimson squints at his gruesome claim. He can't hear Moonlight running anymore, so he briefly turns to see if she has made it a safe distance away. He sees her, hiding behind a barrel at the far end of the town. He now returns his attention forward to— “RRCK!” his cheek is bashed with the sharp end of the dragon’s tail who had closed the distance instantly, sending him flying backwards. He tumbles across the dirt ground until he collides into a barely-standing shop and breaks into it.

The building crumbles and begins to collapse on top of him. With a grunt, he quickly rises onto his feet and dashes to shoulder-bash his way out of the side of the building just before it falls on him. He runs back out to the center of the town, his cheek now donning a long, thin slice that goes from his temple to the right corner of his lip that bleeds in a perfect diagonal.

The man looks to Moonlight, seeing she’s still safe. He looks around, spotting no dragon. He can’t find him. ... But he feels him.

Crimson's eyes dilate. A shadow encompasses him from above, and he quickly leaps out of the way, less than a second before the dragon comes crashing down, throwing dirt and dust around. Crimson rolls along his back and onto his feet, facing the dragon again.

The fuming dragon puffs his chest as he prepares his internal furnace, then he unleashes a huge, unrelenting breath of fire towards the human. The fire envelops him, encasing the area he stood in with searing flames.

The dragon finally halts his barrage with smoke rising from his nostrils. The entire area Crimson was standing in is a huge, dusty, smoking mess. With a grin, the dragon leans his head forward to spot the ashes of the human through the debris...

Charging from the smoke, the angel sprints forward with a huge heater shield that protects his entire front, made of bright, translucent golden light. He shouts as he delivers a powerful bash onto the dragon's head with it, sending him up at an angle from the sheer force of the hit.

The dragon crashes into the same building remnants that he sent the human into, breaking and shattering pieces of wood into splinters. With mountainous rage, the dragon rises from the shambles, flying up and hovering in the air. In a fit of exasperation, he lifts his head and breathes fire into the sky. It has been long since a challenger has caused him this much trouble. With many deaths under his name, being handled like an equal is tempering him more than anything before. He stares down at the red-haired human in complete disdain.

Crimson’s hard-light shield disperses from his forearm into nothing, vanishing from existence. He stares back at the dragon with furrowed brows.

“You are no man! What. Creature. Are you!?” the dragon growls through his visceral teeth.

"What you see here is what you get!"

The snide response tips the dragon off, causing him to charge again, “HRRAAAAH!”

Crimson quickly springs to the side to evade the collision, but the end of the dragon’s tail wraps around his ankle. The dragon flies up, dragging him a few meters into the air before spinning quickly, throwing him downwards towards the earth.

Crimson collides back-first onto the dirt, gasping as blood and spit spurt out of his mouth.

The dragon descends and lands on top of the man, grasping him and lifting him up with one claw. He brings his victim up to his face, his raging orange orbs become slits of hatred. He begins to crush the man in his grasp, getting a quiet croak of pain from him. “You were a very powerful creature,” the dragon rumbles, “I do not understand why you wasted your life as a servant to those… weak… pathetic ponies. You could have been just as a dragon. You could have taken what you desired, when you desired it. You would have had it all."

Crimson's eyes dilate at his words... the same words spoken by...

"Fuckin' hell, we could'a had it all, Sky. We could'a made this land ours. With yer strength and will, we could'a had everythin'."

"... Michael."

Crimson's heart begins to burn. His veins circulate with resentment.

The dragon grins at the vexatious human. "… No matter. Die now, in vain.” The dragon’s chest puffs, festering fire in his very being. -- “ERK!? -- UAARRR!” The dragon suddenly screams in agony, the fire building inside him becoming nothing but smoke released from his mouth and nose. The confused and pained dragon looks down at the claw that grips the man. He witnesses a shimmering greatsword of pure golden essence sticking out the back of his claw, punctured right through from the inside.

Crimson shrugs his shoulders repeatedly, rearing his head back as he squirms to drag the sword upward.

“ARRAAA!!!” the dragon cries again, feeling the weapon burn through his palm, causing enough pain for him to release his grasp.

Crimson takes his opportunity. Holding the handle of the greatsword with his left hand, he hauls it upwards with imposing force. It burns vertically along the dragon’s claw, coming out the thumb-side of his palm. Crimson continues this upwards motion into a vertical spin, spinning his sword with him like a tilted twister. The dragon’s claw is severed clean at the wrist, but the nature of the cut doesn’t allow it to fall off immediately. Though the sword appears thick and heavy, the true cutting-point of it is thin and precise, while the energy around the cutting-point sears like a raging fire.

Crimson's weapon disperses into nothing as he aligns himself onto the dragon's twitching claw. He presses his feet against the palm and he kicks off of it with a powerful leap, and from the force of that kick-off, the claw falls clean off.

The dragon begins to panic as he watches blood gush from his severed appendage.

Crimson lands on the ground in front of the dragon. His golden eyes stare into the dragon’s trembling orbs. He sees it, the quaking fear that is building inside of his soul. This oversized menace is finally feeling the helplessness that every single one of his victims felt... and Crimson couldn't be more happy to see it.

He is quick to dart forward when the dragon spreads his wings and takes to the sky, latching onto his hindleg and clambering up along his side. The dragon continues to fly higher and higher, the silhouette of the two combatants eclipse in the moon that is now beginning to rise over the horizon.

The dragon flails and tries to get him off by spinning and shaking, attempting everything he can to become free from his judge, but Crimson won't let go. He squirms and shrugs to no avail.

Or so it seemed. After enough fruitless squirming to allow Crimson to climb up to his shoulder, the dragon finally flings his tail to smash the tip of it against his face to swat him off.

The dragon stops flying upwards and pants deeply, smoke comes out in bursts from his nostrils as he watches the helpless human fall, plummeting several hundred feet towards the earth. His plan worked. The human is going to become a mushy mess of broken bones and scattered intestines once he hits the ground from such a height. A wicked grin of victory takes the dragon's face.

“NO!” Moonlight shouts from behind the barrel. "NO, NO, NO, NO!"

She knows she’s too far away for any of them to hear her, but her dismay has her shouting fruitlessly. Her eyes begin to water, her heart sinks as she watches Crimson descend to his demise.

Crimson blinks slowly as he falls. He feels the wind whistling against him as he reaches terminal velocity. His expression shows no concern, only tiredness. He didn't get good sleep last night as he had stayed in the Rift comforting Viola, just as he plans to do for the rest of his days here in Equestria. A worthy reason to miss out on sleep, he opines.

But now it's going to bite him. Hopefully not too hard.

He closes his eyes, furrowing his previously relaxed eyebrows. He slowly brings his arms in, crossing them over his chest, then he brings his legs in, coupling his knees over his chest as well. His form flexes sharply, and the exertion of his muscles causes him to huff in pain.

Moonlight’s trembling eyes widen from shock and confusion. The human’s body slowly becomes a ball of brightly glowing light. It radiates like a small sun, illuminating the world around.

The dragon’s eyes widen in panic. Just as he had thought victory was his, now he is greeted with... this.

The angel's teeth grit, he feels his entire body burning. The passive Arch that flows through his bloodstream, his muscles, and his soul now manifests itself all around him. It glows brighter and brighter as his grunting becomes more intense.

Then, like a star exploding in the sky, his body extends from its balled position as he releases a warcry into the night, simultaneous to his body combusting with gold energy. Golden wings and a halo form instantly from particles of light piecing themselves together around his body. His eyes are sockets of pure emissive energy.

Moonlight and the dragon unhinge their jaws in awe.

The Arch Angel flaps his translucent wings of light to recover in mid-air. His head snaps towards the dragon, eyeing him with the fury of a thousand suns.

The dragon whispers curses to himself in his draconic language.

As the angel hovers in place, he extends his right arm out with his palm facing down. His hand is encompassed in gold energy, and his sword manifests itself into reality. Small golden molecules come together from the nothing all around him, methodically placing themselves in order one-by-one to form his weapon.

Once it forms, he grips it at the handle. He flaps his wings twice quickly, then once more with great force to project himself like a streak of light. The neck-breaking speed causes the sound-barrier to whine in protest, thundering at the incredible movement.

The angel stops on a dime behind the flying dragon, his posture is that with his sword held out horizontally. The backs of the angel and the dragon face each other.

The dragon blinks, feeling the gust of wind move past him, feeling nothing damaged or harmed in his body. He is confused, frozen, and unable to think properly. His world begins to blacken from the corners of his vision, but he doesn't know why. He blinks again to clear his addlement. Then, as the dragon attempts to turn his head to look back at his perpetrator, his head slips off his shoulders, finally breaking the weak frictional tether that was holding his head in place.

The beast’s wings stop flapping, and the lifeless mass of scales begins its descent toward the ground.

Moonlight’s tear-ridden eyes are shaking, both from fear and veneration. Her beautifully-glistening eyes reflect the golden light being cast from the angel in the sky.

But her astonishment fades instantly when his Arch disperses. His wings, halo, and eyes suddenly evanesce into nothing, and his regular, hazel eyes remain droopy as they stare into the void. He falls also, already unconscious before even hitting the ground. The exertion, the amount of stress placed upon his mortal body, it pushed his sleepy, nutrient-deficient self over his limit.

The dead dragon crashes into a building, now becoming his burial site. The man falls down and crashes into an old empty water tower, crumbling down into a mess of wood and rubble.

Moonlight runs frantically with tears streaming down her face, nearly unable to control her breathing. She runs to the scattered debris of the water tower, using her magic to remove large chunks of the wooden boards and concrete pieces at once. She finally spots Crimson seated on a pile of wood and rubble, like a king who fell asleep on his throne.

She rushes up to him, putting her hooves at his shoulders as she shakes him gently, “Hoh sweet Celestia, Crimson... Crimson please. Please tell me you're okay.” She places her ear to his chest, finding that his heartbeat is… normal. Maybe a little bit faster than normal, but still unnaturally natural. Dreadfully anxious and perplexed, she looks at his face.

His eyes don't open. They remain closed while his breathing paces gently, as if he was simply sleeping. And upon further inspection, he IS sleeping. Out of pure exhaustion, he fell asleep in the air, falling down to land into his seat of wooden planks so he could finally get some shut-eye.

Although frightened beyond belief, she takes solace in the fact that he is still very much alive. She keeps her head against his chest, closing her eyes and letting tears run down her face. She thinks back to only a few days ago, when Crimson was explaining to her about his power. She had completely forgotten about what he had told her... being able to form wings and such. He wouldn't have fallen to his demise, not if he had anything to say about it.

For some reason, she can't help but smile and chuckle wryly, sniffling once as she murmurs, "You weren't kidding... you really do look like an angel. You are... my angel." She couples up to him in silence, staying in this moment for a mental eternity.

After only several minutes, Crimson suddenly coughs. Moonlight’s eyes break open, staring up at him worriedly. He doesn't open his eyes yet, but it doesn't take long for a goofy smile to plaster itself on his face. “… Evenin', Moonlight,” he mumbles, coughing out dust and blood after speaking. His eyelids separate enough to squint at Moonlight. She just stares at him, lost for words. “… Aww. Don’t look at me like that,” he coos in a quiet rasp.

“You… you…” Moonlight gathers the strength to speak, “… you could have died...”

He brings in the sorrowing unicorn for a hug, only letting his smile grow wider. He clears his froggy throat as he grunts, "Nrh, n… nah, gonna take more than… more than that to put me down. Just needed a little rest was all.” He loosens the hug to reach with his hand, wiping off the newly-running tears that trail down her face. He then begins to rise from his wooden throne, grunting as he forces his exhausted body to move. Moonlight doesn’t know whether to sit him back down or help him up, so she remains frozen in her indecision.

Bones are heard popping all throughout his body as he stands up. He tilts his head at the emotionally-paralyzed Moonlight. He then leans down and picks her up into his arms, holding her bridal style.

Just as before, in the train ride, her uneasy heart finds itself eased and relaxed in his hold. The worry is somewhat replaced, shared now between embarrassment and sadness, “… You could have died…” she whispers again.

Crimson shakes his head, wincing as he does. “Rgh... remember what I told you. I promise I’ll be fine. Wouldn't look good on my part if I got put in the ground on my first ride out. I already made Celestia a deal that everything will be okay. That you’ll be okay.” Moonlight slowly extends her hoof to wipe the slowly trickling blood from his face gash. Crimson steps out of the water tower's rubble with a chuckle, “That bastard really did a number on me, didn’t he?”

“Well, least you’re still alive,” suddenly says a female voice in front of the duo.

The two direct their attention to the speaker.

A female dragon with sleek black and blue scales. For a dragon, she's isn't nearly as tall as the previous assailant, and her perfectly smooth scales shine lustrously against the lighting of the moon.

“You kinda just killed my brother,” says the dragoness as she files her own nails.

“... Brother, huh?" Crimson furrows his unamused front. "Well, he done pissed me off. Can't say he wun't askin’ for it.”

“Oh, totally. He was a piece of shit. I was hoping he'd get himself killed one day, so I'm glad that day was today. Thanks."

"Yeah," Crimson huffs and gives her a bored look whereas Moonlight is quaking again. "No problem."

“But… according to the Dragon Code, now I need to avenge my nest brother in order to preserve the lineage, and blah, blah, blah,” the dragoness sighs.

“I’m tuckered, so it would be great if we didn’t have to do this."

The dragoness smiles. “Well it’s a good thing I don’t give a damn about the Dragon Code then. I wasn’t looking to fight you. I was looking to ask you what in tartarus I just witnessed.”

“… Pardon?”

"Don't act dumb with me, angel boy. The wings? The sword thing? ... The fact that you can talk!?"

Crimson’s slouching, roughed-up form sighs, “It's a long story, one I ain't lookin' to recant right now.”

"Hmn," the dragoness raises her browline. "Are there more of you human angel thingies around?"

He blinks unenthusiastically and shrugs, “I don't know. Look, listen, as much as I'd like to keep catchin' yer questions, right now, we got shit to do. Moonlight?”

“Oh, right!" her eyes beam in realization. "The signatures!” Having powered it down during the fight, she takes her mini-ANA out from her saddlebag then turns it on. It begins to squeal very loudly.

“Uugh, what IS that thing!?” the dragoness grunts, covering her ears. Crimson grins at her discomfort.

Moonlight raises her eyes to the dragoness. “The magic seems to be coming from… her."

“What did she say!?” the dragoness shouts as she still covers her ears to block out the wailing device. Moonlight turns it off, allowing her to uncover her ears. She gives Moonlight a very annoyed glare.

“The magical signature my ANA is reading, it's coming from you,” Moonlight restates warily.

“Magic? Dragons aren’t ‘magic.’ We’re elemental, there’s a difference.”

“I-I know, but there’s magical energy coming from you, with the same imprint signature that was captured from the anomalies Equestria has been receiving.”

“I literally have no idea what you're talking about," the dragoness huffs boredly... but after a second, a thought visibly strikes her. "Oh! Oh wait, maybe you’re talking about this thing?” the dragoness presents the tip of her tail where it holds a necklace.

Moonlight looks at it with wide eyes. Crimson takes this as a cue to set her down. She is quick to trot towards the necklace, eyeing it with great intent. In her interest, she completely forgets that she's approaching a menacing carnivore. She eyes the jewel held in the necklace. It’s a thumbnail-sized, amethyst rhombus that hums very quietly, only able to be heard if held up to the ear.

The dragoness gawks down at the small pony with little amusement as she elaborates, “Me and my brother took this thing from some loser a few days ago. It was technically ours, but since my brother’s kinda dead now, it’s mine.”

Moonlight turns on her ANA again, holding it near the gem. The device whines loudly.

“Rrrr!” the dragoness holds her earholes again.

“S-Sorry!” Moonlight quickly turns off the device, safe in her assurance that this is the objective. She reaches her hoof out to hold the necklace, but it is quickly swiped away from her as the dragoness flicks her tail away, causing Moonlight to back away in fright. Crimson furrows his brows and steps forward, balling his hands into fists.

“Uh, this is kind of like, mine?" the dragoness huffs. "I literally just said that. You try to steal it from me, then I’ll have a reason to get violent with you.”

“But w-we need it! It will aid in the understanding of the anomalous magic that has been plaguing Equestria!”

“Nope, it’s mine.”

"B-But Equestria!"

"Not my problem."

Moonlight looks devastated.

Crimson sighs, stepping forward until he stands right in front of the dragoness. She finds herself almost exactly at his height, and quite intrigued at his brazen forwardness. "C’mon, there’s some serious danger lurkin' about. Even if you don't care about Equestria itself, we need it. This is bigger than just some petty treasure hunt. If you're lookin' to live in a world that isn't filled with crazy magic, you'd best hand it over.”

The dragoness tilts her head, “Magic doesn't scare me~”

"D-Do you want payment for it?" Moonlight offers timidly. "W-We could arrange a trade if you'd like."

"Hmn..." the dragoness ponders. "... Nah."

"Listen, dragon," Crimson begins sternly. "Unless you're askin' for it, I won't get violent with you 'r nothin', but I'm fixin' to follow you around like a parasite if you don't give up that necklace."

"Follow me around? Really?" she asks with high amusement.

"Really."

"Everywhere?"

"Everywhere."

The dragoness clicks her tongue, finding herself back into a corner. "... Mmm, the idea of some freaky angel human thing following me around doesn't sit well with me."

"Good."

"Okay, tell you what," the dragoness begins, "I'm keeping my necklace, but I'll tell you where I live. I'm going to think it over for a bit, see what I might want as a payment for it, and then once I figure it out, I'll tell you."

"'N how do we know you aren't gonna just up 'n leave?"

"Because all of my stuff is there. I like my stuff, if that isn't obvious already."

“And, um... w-where do you live?” Moonlight asks.

“I'll tell you, but you two need to promise ONE thing..." The two shoot questioning gazes to the dragoness, waiting for her to continue. "You don't tell ANYONE about where I live. If you do, I'll literally abandon everything I own and leave with the necklace, just to spite both of you."

"Even if we did keep yer secret," Crimson squints, "what makes us believe you ain't ready to pull that off at any moment? Leave yer stuff behind and all?"

"Guess you'll just have to trust me~" she hums cheekily.

Moonlight and Crimson exchange glances, coming to a unanimous decision by nodding their heads.

"Just remember," Crimson mumbles as he turns his tired eyes to the dragoness again, "you're gonna have me on your ass twenty-four-seven if you leave us high and dry."

"Good thing I won't then~ So," she turns herself, facing the shadowed silhouette of the Canterlot mountain off in the distant night. "You know that really fancy pony city place that’s built on the side of a mountain?”

“Canterlot?” Moonlight asks.

“Yeah. That. I think. I don't know what that place is called, but I live like, on the other side of the mountain. Near the very peak, there’s a cave there. That’s my home.”

“… Really?” Moonlight asks skeptically.

"Yup. I've lived there for like thirty years, after I exiled myself from the Dragonlands."

"You exiled yourself?" Moonlight tilts her head.

"Yeah, but that's a story I don't feel like talking about right now. The moon's out and I want to go home."

"That makes two of us," Crimson declares. "We'd better get a move-on."

“BUT!” the dragoness raises a finger from her claw to Crimson’s lips. “Remember. You’re not allowed to tell ANYONE about my cave. No other ponies or whatever. ONLY you two can know. If you break this rule, you can kiss the necklace goodbye," she uses the end of her finger to flick Crimson's lower lip downwards. Moonlight finds a bitterness in her mouth at the touching the dragoness is doing to him.

“We'll play yer game,” Crimson utters. "So, what's yer name, dragon lady?"

"Name's Storm," she says as she lifts her claw, snapping two fingers together which creates a tiny spark. "What's yours, human guy?"

"Crimson. 'N this here is Moonlight Wish. Now, I gotta ask, where were you when your brother and I were tusslin'?"

"Watching from the water tower."

"Hope I didn't disappoint the spectators."

"Best fight I've seen in years honestly. But, you kind of ruined it when you smashed into the water tower and broke it. That was annoying."

"What can I say."

Storm hums dismissively. "Alright, I'm going home now."

"Yeah, think we might be doin' the same--"

“If, um... if you don't mind, Crimson,” Moonlight mumbles as she tugs at his cargo shorts, "I-I'd like to survey the town for a little while... hopefully get the identities of the ponies that were killed here today. T-The train returns to the station at midnight, so we have some time before then."

"Ah. Of course. I'll be by yer side." Crimson turns his eyes to the dragoness, who's looking back at him intently. "Be ready fer me to pay you a visit tomorrow."

"Grrreat! That settles that then!" she gives a toothy smile, driving discomfort into Moonlight. "See you tomorrow, Crim-zun!"

She spreads her wings completely, casting a great shadow behind her before she lifts off into the air. With her dark blue and black coloration, she is quick to fade into the darkness of the night.

Crimson and Moonlight trek back towards the gently smoking town, finishing their remaining tasks for their field day under the radiance of the moon.

《 The Pawn on the Stage 》

At last, the Arch Angel who has begun his march into ascendancy now illustrates his gift with unmistakable prowess. I am able to hear his whisper, the unique sound that his soul sings into the Weave. The essence that Arch exudes is unique and powerful, where every Arch Angel harbros their own spirit-whisper. It is the identifying factor that makes us who we are in the sea of time.

Though I may not know what ventures he has and will untake, I may listen to his song, and listen I will. I will stand as a theatergoer to the orchestra that is his life. His whispers are haunting beautiful, and I will continue to listen.

There are many questions our Arch Angel holds which stifle his ability to evolve. His absence of understanding to his own gift is a detriment to his true potential. Just as many Arch Angels, the culturing and understanding of their power is difficult to manage and expand. There are few who gain the required knowledge to use their Arch at its fullest, while many only learn the bare minimum to harness it, which is the case with our current performer.

An angel's knowledge to use and comprehend Arch comes from their forefathers, who accouter their foundations with perpetual failure. Families of angels trying and failing in numerous ways for countless generations with their anomalous gift is what builds the pillars of stability and strength for their kin, where the contemporary children of Arch could be taught the techniques of their ancestors and become fluent in their skill.

As stated before, our own Arch Angel we see today encompasses just enough understanding of his abilities to bring them forth and demonstrate their potentiality, and this is no fault of his own. In a tragic tale that never fails to accomplish its story, the Sky family never sees a father past the age of forty mortal years. Since the dawn of their lineage, I have seen it happen again and again - the patrilineal blood falls prematurely to the clutches of an untimely death, leaving their children incomplete and ignorant. The mothers of this same lineage have never been Arch Angels, it is always the fathers who bare this burden. That is why I find our very own Viola such a captivating addition to the stage, she is the very first female Arch Angel in the Sky family lineage, always birthed alongside her brother. Perhaps that holds some significance, but that is only an assumption with nothing to bolster the claim.

You may be asking yourself how I know all of this about him, even if he and I have never met before. I will only say that I have... 'helped myself' to some of his memories. For a good cause.

Nevertheless, we see that our Arch Angel follows the same dismal path as his antecedents. His father was killed before he was an adult and his older brother followed soon after. Left with little to harbor from his family, much of what he gathered is his own. Never to discredit anyone who deserves their due, his father did the best he could to relay teachings at any given time. With the few words of advice and instruction to lead our Arch Angel, it was enough to set him onto a path of righteousness and self-promotion, and this is what intrigues me the most. Few angels are able to achieve what he can with such little guidance. Had I left him to his own devices, what little he knows would surely be enough to conquer anything that might have confronted him in his home-world.

His strength and understanding would indeed increase. The perfect specimen to tackle what is to come.

Countless Arch Angels exist in a multitude of universes, with many parallel versions of themselves that travel through splitting roads, yet none of them have quite seized my affection like our current angel has. It is... unfortunate for him. Worry not, for you too shall understand soon.

It is truly a shame that balance calls for such an abrupt shift in weight. He was never at fault intentionally, but intentions are worthless in practice.

And now, I will prepare myself. I will arrange our meeting by extending an invitation into my most sanctioned place. A place sacred to any Arch Angel. My own Rift.

I pray that he and I shall meet very soon.

Reassignment

~ Canterlot Castle, the Grand Halls ~<
February 4th, Wednesday, 9:49

‎ ‎

Nature sings its morning tune as Crimson makes his way towards the adorned doors of the throne room. Just before retiring for the night yesterday, Moonlight and Celestia exchanged memorandums which elucidated the events of last night's field operation, and while Crimson is aware of this, he wasn't informed of what they wrote to each other. He assumes he will soon to find out, as Celestia had beckoned for his presence just after breakfast.

He presents himself at the front of the doors, greeted by a familiar orange stallion in silver armor. With a quick and acknowledging raise of his eyebrows, Bulletpoint orders his buckram post mate to open the door with his magic. They swing wide for Crimson's entry, where he can see Celestia sitting at her throne much like the first time he made his appearance. He strides in with haste, keeping his eyes locked on her form as he moves forward. He takes a courtly bow once he stands at her front, keeping himself quiet to listen to her heed.

"Good morning, dear Crimson."

He rises from his humble salutation, smiling tiredly at her as he replies, "Good mornin' to you too, Princess."

Celestia's eyes rest on his figure, tracing him up and down without further speaking. Her running gaze causes him to look down at himself, curious as to what she's scrutinizing. He doesn't find anything particularly remarkable about his current appearance compared to what he usually looks like, now looking back up to Celestia with the same inquiring regard. He catches a smile forming on her lips as she tilts her head.

"Undeniably," she begins, "you proved to be an outstanding choice for the task of guarding my researchers. Your trodden appearance speaks more words than those sent in Moonlight's letters."

"I swore I'd do anythin' I can to keep Moonlight safe. I don't fall back on my promises."

"Even in the face of a menacing, fire-breathing dragon?"

"Even in the face of a thousand of 'em."

Celestia's smile grows wider at his aplomb. "And I believe you fully. I must thank you, dragon attacks have heightened in Equestria recently, and because these wayward stragglers are not officially under the affiliation of the Dragonlord from the Dragonlands, we cannot wage war against a kingdom for a fault that is not theirs. Slaying these delinquent dragons who pose a threat to my subjects is a favor I struggle to ask for even my best combat teams. As you experienced first-hoof, their ferocity is not something to be discounted. Moonlight made her distress about your safety very prominent... but I believe you are more capable than she imagines. You have my gratitude."

"No need to applaud, princess. After seein' what that overgrown bastard did to an innocent little farmin' village, he needed to die."

"And we all agree. I am very pleased at your dedication and willingness to put yourself in the line of peril. You have done well to ensure Moonlight's trust, and now, mine as well. Unfortunately, the objective of the field operation was not successful. Moonlight reported that the relic in question was not acquired and is still in the claws of another dragon."

Crimson's brows furrow slightly at Celestia's awareness of Storm, though he keeps himself hushed as to continue letting her speak.

"To our dismay, Moonlight was unable to deliver a clear report on this dragon's appearance or whereabouts. Even her portable ANA was incapable of tracking the signature as they fled from the scene. Would you, by any chance, have more information about the dragon that still holds the relic?"

"... Many pardons, princess, I'm just as blinded as Moonlight."

Celestia's domineering gaze weighs down upon him as she cycles his alibi. Crimson maintains eye contact with her without a break in poise, possessing the assertiveness she dawns on him with full return.

After a moment, she closes her eyes and nods once, embracing his words. "Worry not. Scouts are regularly patrolling Equestria from dawn until dusk. It is only a matter of time before the dragon will be found. Now, onto further matters. I have a turnover in duty for you, dearest Crimson. Please do not mistake me for lacking trust in you, but you will no longer protect Moonlight in her endeavors..."

Crimson's distaste visibly grows.

"... as she will no longer partake in outside operations. I am ordering her to remain in the city and perform research here. We already have enough bodies undertaking the tasks found outside Canterlot walls, and I do not wish to put my researchers in purposeless endangerment. I am confident in your ability to protect Moonlight, but I would rather ensure her safety whilst placing your talents in another, much needed, area of expertise. Your new position involves mission integration with the Royal Guard."

"I thought you said I didn't have to join 'em."

"And that stands true even now. You will not officially join the guard, but as you have proven to fear neither danger nor death with a skill-set to accompany your abandon, I would like you to consort with the Royal Guard Elite. The missions they are deployed on are physically and mentally strenuous, where only the best of my troops are burdened with the task. Instead of protecting a researcher, you will now protect a team of skilled individuals that will, in turn, protect you as well."

"When do I start?"

"Tomorrow. There is a mission currently in development involving an expedition to the Smokey Mountains in western Equestria, near the White Tail Woods that you had recently visited. Your debriefing will be issued by the Captain of the Royal Guard before leaving Canterlot."

"Hmh. You think I'd make a good addition to their team?"

"I have faith in your abilities."

"I appreciate that you hold a simple man so highly," he grins as he pockets his hands.

"A simple man?" she questions with an equally brash smile. "The furthest from simple. There is no need to be so modest... my angel."

"Guess Moonlight already told you all about that."

"Indeed. Our dearest little Moonlight made quite a detailed fuss about your power. Ahr-ch, was it?"

"Spelled like how you said it, but the 'c h' is pronounced as a 'k.' Don't ask me why, it's just what I was told. It don't surprise me Moonlight's twirlin' over my Arch in the letters she sends. Ever since I told her about it, she's been real piqued."

"With good reason. Even excluding your power, there are many wonderful aspects you hold that she has informed me of. Since you were first sent to her up until now, she has had nothing to say than positive qualities about you."

"It's an honor that she thinks so well of me."

"She isn't the only one, my angel, it would appear that the Guard is also quite enthused by the talking human. As well am I. I share Moonlight's curiosity to your power. I wish to see what you're capable of and if your abilities can be found in other parts of Equus. Unless your existence is truly beyond this realm, where your Arch is completely absent in any other creature here, there is much research to do alongside the magical anomalies that have appeared."

"That's a good point. I'm also interested to know whether I'm the only guy 'round here that's got Arch. Believe it or not, there's a lot I actually don't know about it. I just do what my father taught me, which wasn't very much."

"Mm, Moonlight's letters detailed your inexperience with your own power. Perhaps one day you could join the Court of Magic here in the high society to train and perfect your Arch alongside Equestria's most esteemed magic users. While I understand your Arch is not the same as our magic, there may be some fruit to be held from speaking to the wise mages."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"That is all I ask. Regardless of your inexperience, she reported that what she had witnessed when you fended off the dragon was nothing short of astonishing. I would wish for a demonstration of your Arch, but Moonlight also highlighted the idea that it is very taxing on your body. I could not argue against it. You look considerably more worn this morning in comparison to when we had first met."

"Not everythin' I can do gasses me out right outta the gate. There's a few things I can do here 'n there that I learned which don't poke a hole in my boat."

With tempt, Celestia smiles, "Lovely. As a teacher in magic studies, it is difficult to contain my curiosity. Could I bother for a spectacle?"

"With pleasure." He walks towards the base of her throne's stairs and stares up at Celestia from below, receiving her fully absorbed gaze. The coloration in his irises suddenly sheen with radiant golden light, and his body follows suit with the flexing of his muscles.

Celestia's brows raise in beguilement to the energy that gently churns in his orbs.

Crimson bends his knees before he huffs, "Up!" and he springs into the air like a coil. Proceeding to perform a menagerie of complicated aerial acrobatics, he spins and twirls in the air as he falls to land back down onto his toes at the very top of the throne stairs, standing only feet away from Celestia's front.

Delighted with the display, Celestia giggles with her hoof in front of her mouth. Crimson closes his eyes and bows to her, where she gives rejoinder by clapping her hooves together and complimenting, "Your finesse is remarkable. Truly, I am impressed."

"Obliged, princess, but that wasn't what I wanted to show you."

"No?" her mouth remains in that same syllable.

"You alright with physical contact?"

"That is an intriguing way to ask whether or not you may touch me. How bold." She turns her head to the right slightly in a audacious manner, keeping her eyes fixed on him. "You may."

Crimson simpers at her ingratiating nature. Being a mare of her stature and status, it isn't unanticipated that she would be so unvexed. She doesn't look too much older than other mares, but her mannerisms aerate a certain maturity that is found uniquely in her.

With her verbal approval, he approaches Celestia until there is but inches separating them. He comes down onto his left knee to level his eyes with the sitting princess, gazing into her beautifully-lashed pink orbs. He can see in her large, reflective pupils, the sheen from the golden light produced by his own eyes. Celestia and Crimson share a moment of silentious blinks, only beaming into each other in the amber of the morning sun which lightens the throne room through the stained glass.

Crimson reaches his right hand towards her face, causing Celestia to briefly break eye contact in order to look at it approach. He brings his hand to her left cheek, cupping the side of her face into his palm.

The small smile present on Celestia's lips grows slightly wider as she settles into the touch. While she tilts her head to lean into his palm, his fingers gently and pleasantly scratch the bottom of her ear, sending shivers of delight through her body. Though comforting, the most prominent sensation of his touch isn't the caressing, it's the tide of surreal comfort that fills her form from her head to her hooves. Her flowing, feminine eyes blink slowly as they fall closed on their own accord, resting blissfully in the wave that drowns her woes away, even those that she is entirely unaware of. She tilts her head further into his hold, causing a lock of her luscious pink mane to fall from behind her ear over her left eye.

While channeling his power, Crimson admires the innocent beauty of this elegant mare as she sinks into his embrace. Through this physical contact, his Arch runs like an electrical current from his body to hers then back to his. As it leaves his body and rides into the person he touches, the molecules of golden light flow through their bloodstream as invisible, temporary passengers that carry out several tasks before returning to him. They snatch and encapsulate excess stress hormones caused by the natural over-worrying that sentient creatures make habit, replace them with a nearly insignificant amount of serotonin, and then return to him with the stress bottled up. Since there is no other deposit for the stress hormones, he releases it into his own body and rides the discomfort. In essence, Crimson is stealing her stress away, untensing her locked and strained nerves and muscles, and giving it to himself in return. Unbeknownst to his partner, his body is tightening from the newly added distention, his body completely abhors what he is doing to it, but he doesn't care. He only cares for the comfort of those he holds dear.

"You're tense, princess," Crimson murmurs.

"Mn," her eyes reopen slightly to ogle his, "perhaps a little. Though I try not to worry about menial things, so many burdens constantly demand my attention."

"As the ruler of a country, I wouldn't doubt it."

As they fall back into reticence, Celestia's amicable smile fades while she evanesces into repose. But before she could truly wane into tranquility, Crimson's hand excuses itself from her cheek delicately, leaving her ample opportunity to straighten her posture and return to reality. Her blinking eyes watch his hand pull away, silently wishing it would stay.

Crimson's eyes cease their glowing, but his smile remains on his face. Celestia's serene expression lingers even after he has pulled away, keeping them in a gaze of silence before he speaks. "... What'cha think?"

"I think..." she sits up straight to reassert her formal sitting posture, "that you are marvelously gifted. It seems that your abilities span wide in versatility, with the strength to dispatch a dragon, but also the care to lull a weary soul into a peaceful slumber."

"Glad you like it."

"Moonlight was telling the truth about you once more. I found it rather peculiar that she described your touch as 'surreal' and 'comforting.' I had believed that this was one of her personal illusions derived from her admiration to you... but now I understand. Your touch truly is what she described. If I may say, I'm a little jealous of Moonlight that she has your company. She must be ecstatic to have found such a unique pairing for herself."

"Pairin' for herself? ... You sayin' me 'n Moonlight are a thing?"

"Is that not the case?"

"Mm-mm," he shakes his head, "she's got a thing goin' fer one of them researcher fellas. Magnifying Glass, I think his name was."

"Magnifying Glass the Scribe?"

"The very one."

"How peculiar that Moonlight is still interested in him."

"She is, and our pal Glass is pretty riled up on Moonlight too. I ain't lookin' to be a home-wrecker, so I'll keep my reservations. To boot, Moonlight's a pony and I'm a man. I don't think it would work out either way... at least, I don't reckon it would... less you ponies are into humans," his tone reflects his impartial expression as he recalls a certain previous happening, where Celestia immediately latches onto his bemusement.

"When it comes to humans and ponies, you might say that there is a particular... niche. Speaking for the entire, ponies do not perform elicit actions with their humans. It is frowned upon to have relations with any pet at all, humans included. Intercourse with animals who are unsanitary and unable to speak a language are not to be ravished, but of course, there are outliers in all things."

"Mm, so it's a taboo." Celestia nods at his assertion. "... 'N what do you think about it?"

"I have no opinion on the matter. As long as nopony or no creature is hurt, it does not bother me. ... I know what you are thinking, my angel..."

Crimson furrows dubiously.

"My subjects who boast the royal bath house are, in fact, apart of the niche I am referring to."

"So you knew what I was gettin' into when I got cleaned up."

"Partially. I have already told them not to perform sexually explicit acts with the humans that they clean, and I do believe they've become better with it over the past few years, but it is not a rule I actively enforce. I only fear for their safety. Humans can be very unpredictable."

"Yeah, I've gotten familiar with that. A lot of the scratches you see on my body are because of my own kind. ... Well, I ain't one to judge. Looks like everyone's got a kink in 'em, and them spa gals likin' to shag humans must be theirs... and Moonlight's, if I take what you said as gospel. Guess I find it bizarre, is all. It's like the equivalent of me layin' in on a horse from back in my home-world."

"Oh no, do not mistake me, my angel. I don't believe Moonlight has ever considered relations with an Equestrian human before. Unlike the humans we ponies are familiar with, you are their opposite. You posses many qualities of an intelligent pony, and that is very attractive regardless of species. I'm very surprised that Moonlight chose to keep her old love interest even after so many years."

"Maybe they're good for it. You know the sayin', 'if it leaves you and it comes back, it was meant to stay.' I reckon it's somethin' to that effect. Plus, a mare like her deserves a family. I don't reckon I could give it to her if she chose me as her significant other, so, good fer Glassy-boy on his nab of an intelligent, wonderful partner. I hope nothin' but the best for 'em, but, eh... y'know, I never did find out why she had to move from Canterlot in the first place."

"Has Moonlight kept it a secret from you?"

"I wouldn't say that. I feel like she'd have told me by now, but a good opportunity to really talk about it hasn't come up, 'n I don't wanna clamp an unnecessary conversation. Plus, it might be a memory she don't like thinkin' on very much, so I'd rather not force her to re-live it all in her head."

Celestia quietly ponders on his words, resting her eyes on the diagonal gash that rides from his right lip corner to his ear. "... Are you aware that Moonlight trusts you very dearly?"

"Yeah. I am."

"... The only ponies who know what had happened to her are her parents, exactly four of her friends, my sister, and myself. Should we include you, you will keep this knowledge only to yourself as a reflection of your friendship to her."

"Then that's exactly what I'll do."

Celestia tilts her head up, lifting her chin to stare past Crimson, while he himself leans back to sit on the carpet in front of her throne, keeping his knees in front of him and his inner elbows rested on top of them. The princess reminisces onto memories from nearly a decade ago, pulling them back up from the recesses of her mind to the forefront of her ideation. As the events realign, she begins her descant, "Let us go back to nine years in the past..."

Beautiful and Tragic

~ Canterlot Castle, the Throne Room ~<
February 4th, Wednesday, 10:01

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"Forgive me for my lack of brevity," Celestia speaks to Crimson, "but it would be most appropriate if I explained this to you from the beginning. Moonlight was very young, a newly-aged mare of seventeen years. She was soon to graduate from the Canterlot Academy of Magic. Her final assignment prior to her graduation was a research paper, and her topic of choice was the properties of reverse-enchantment magic. After many late nights and a broken sleeping schedule, she submitted the paper to her professor. Needless to say, it was nothing short of awe-inspiring. So many intricacies to spells previously thought simple, she had shone new light into the fundamental study of magic. Everypony was swept away by her dedication to knowledge and analysis. It was so well-crafted and carefully explained, the current Royal Research Team and I came to the decision that we wanted her as a researcher. Eager to relay the offer, I had informed her of this just before her graduation, which was... erroneous, on my part. While she could deliver an insightful speech about an informational topic to a crowd, she never was the socially confident kind, especially when there was a distraction present. She became so anxious and apprehensive after I offered her a position as a researcher, she couldn't give her acceptance speech for graduating with the highest honors in her class. The stress of deciding whether to take my offer or not placed a lot of weight on her shoulders during such a busy time in her life, and I still feel guilty to this day. Though her mind is sharp and bright, her aspirations were simple and humble. Moonlight wanted to become a teacher at Magic Kindergarten, the elementary she attended as a foal. Her joy for teaching was rivaled only by her love of caring for foals. As you can imagine, becoming a researcher for Equestria's most esteemed science team was a responsibility far beyond being an elementary school teacher. The sudden offer I proposed to her was a big decision, and I don't blame her for being overburdened. Thankfully, Moonlight's closest and dearest friend, Swirly Cutie, took up the task of delivering the speech she wrote to her graduating class. Thankfully, it all turned out well, her classmates were nothing short of supportive with her indirectly delivered words of thanks and humility. Moonlight was never a popular student, but she was highly respected for her talent and devotion, and it truly showed on that day."

"Swirl 'n Moonlight, huh? Can only imagine how they used to be."

"They were unstoppable as a team. Even Moonlight's parents had eaten their words - they were never fond of Swirl and believed she would only halt Moonlight's progress. Yet now, all I can imagine is what they could have accomplished together if Moonlight had never left Canterlot."

"You've made me wonder. if, uh... I might ask. Where're Moonlight's parents? They here in Canterlot?"

"Yes they are. They were one of Moonlight's biggest motivations for joining the Royal Researchers. She was required to move into the Castle immediately after graduation to begin her work, but fortunately, it wasn’t very far from her original home in the Blueleaf housing district in upper Canterlot. All housing expenses paid, free meals, countless services, her parents were more excited for her than she was for herself. After some internal debate and the encouragement of her family, Moonlight took the position as a Scribe. It pleased me greatly to see her working in the labs alongside other brilliant minds. She was, and still is, an excellent addition to the team. She was the youngest researcher ever admitted, but she collaborated well with her colleagues. So well, in fact, it was the most sociable I had ever seen her be. There was always an equation or a comprehensive question to discuss, and they all bonded through their love of learning."

"All of this sounds too good to be true. I reckon it was."

"Soon you will understand. After about a year of being apart of the team, the thirst for complicated knowledge in Moonlight and her colleagues grew, and projects became very intricate and increasingly prodigious. The workplace in the laboratories became chaotic and muddled through their experiments. Rather than have the researchers cleaning the aftermath of their projects at the end of an exhausting day, I assigned a trusted Castle janitor to maintain their labs, with of course, guided instructions by the Head Researcher in what is allowed to be touched. Though Moonlight was never required to clean up after herself, she did so anyway, even going to the extent to help the janitor tidy up the litter left behind by the other researchers. I attribute her selflessness to the guilt she must have felt watching another pony cleaning the mess she had left behind. Nevertheless, their time spent together cleaning formed... an interesting bond. Though their social status, interests, and pools of acquaintances were vastly different, Moonlight looked past that and developed emotions for this janitor. I do not speak for myself, but most ponies I know would never find a romantic attraction to a lowly janitor."

"It don't surprise me Moonlight sees past concepts like socioeconomic status. 'N what's this guy's name?"

"His name is Crescent Cool. I am unsure of the gritty details to the formation of their interest in one another, but they eventually became a pair. Unbeknownst to everypony at the time, a Scribe in the Royal Research team who you already know, Magnifying Glass, secretly harbored feelings for Moonlight, but because of the current entanglement between her and Crescent, he never advocated his feelings until it was too late."

"Damn. So Glass has been tryin' to scratch his way up Moonlight's tree for nine years?"

Celestia nods firmly, "An unfortunate happening for Scribe Glass, but he has only himself to blame for harboring his emotions. Nevertheless, Crescent proposed a date with Moonlight which solidified their becoming as a couple. From what I was told, Crescent was quite the romantic. In addition to being rather handsome, there was no shortage of sweet words and heartfelt gifts. You could imagine Moonlight was very nervous at the start of the relationship, I don't believe she had ever had a romantic interest before this. As time went on, their relationship showed itself to be a boon for the entirety of the research team. Moonlight's morale grew exponentially, it was higher then than it had ever been. She took many research matters into her own hooves, and everyone followed her lead in countless projects. She became so distinguished in her ability to explain, direct, and compose, she was voted as the next Head Researcher as soon as previous Head Levelpen Clair stepped down to retire. It was a blessing. I've been watching Moonlight since she was a foal and I had never seen her so happy. In her own words, she was at the pinnacle of her life, with a perfect job and an amazing companion to share the experience with. Their relationship was a kiln that hosted a burning passion for life and wonder."

"Sounds like the closin' of a fantasy. ... Where did it all go wrong?"

"... Not long after. The first year was marvelous, but something sinister lingered behind the veil. The main concern Moonlight had about her relationship was her desire for chastity until marriage, which she would have planned as their anniversary for being together two years. She was too committed to her new position as the Head Researcher to have a family during this time. With many responsibilities to juggle, she wanted to find a good time to set aside for their marriage. It was clear Crescent did not want to wait, he always pressed the matter whenever he could."

Crimson's face contorts in mild vexation, riding back on a memory that involved his sister in a very similar scenario. But, he focuses back on Celestia and refrains from interrupting her.

"After his advances being denied numerous times, Crescent was becoming less... affectionate. Even though he verbally acknowledged Moonlight's wishes time after time, he never seemed to truly respect her desires. Keep in mind that Moonlight's position as Head Researcher meant a plethora of new responsibilities, which eventually led to her exhaustion and her inability to stay afterwards to clean the labs, just as she had done when she was a Scribe. We can only assume Crescent must have mistook this as some sort of passive-aggressive attack against him, as he began showing up to work late and would become absent more often, effectively breaking his perfect work record. As I had mentioned before, he was a very trusted custodian picked out of a group. Everypony in that group had done their work around the Castle exceptionally and without complaint, and Crescent in particular got along with many of the Castle staff. It was understandable that Moonlight showed much concern to his random disappearances... and, through her lack of speaking to anypony for an outside perspective, she always blamed herself for things that were going wrong. So, in an attempt to appease to him, Moonlight invited him to the annual Royal Ball, the very same party she had attended every year, the same that Crescent had never been to but to clean up afterwards. She figured it a perfect opportunity for some time to recollect each other's emotions. He gladly accepted, and they attended the Ball together."

"And I reckon it was disaster."

Celestia shakes her head, "To even my surprise, only contentment came from their attendance to the Ball. Though Moonlight did not participate in any festivities, they seemed happy sitting together, talking endlessly, laughing, and enjoying each other's company. Crescent even became the center of attention during one of the dancing circles through out the night. Include this with Moonlight's reluctance to speak ill of anypony, I believed nothing was out of the ordinary between them, that there were no signs of malcontent in their relationship. What happened after this Royal Ball is where the truth began to show its shadowed face. Crescent became rambunctious, his desire to copulate with Moonlight and establish a family was inflamed. His increasing turbulence led to... abusive tendencies," Celestia's expression hardens at the experiences she is recalling, finding present disconcert over memories she willingly files away. "It was too soon before his verbal threats became physical maltreatment of our little Moonlight."

Crimson's hands reflexively close into strained fists. The realization that this was a past event doesn't escape him, but it does little to ease his rising frustration.

"The worst part about the abuse she suffered was her own nature. Not only was she the receiving end of bruising treatment and harsh language, her socially fragile being made her truly believe his belittling words. She was always under the impression that she was doing something wrong, that she was at fault for the discontent found in Crescent. ... So then, one and a half years into their relationship, Moonlight herself was beginning to change. It was first noted by her fellow researchers before it reached my knowledge, but she severely waned in her productivity during her work hours. Her mental disconnection to her surroundings was troublesome. She would frequently be found star-gazing and motionless, letting time pass her idly by. She would clean her station and leave her lab earlier than before, then show up the next morning late. Nopony knew why Moonlight was acting this way, there were no evident clues to her dismay. Her relationship was the last thing in anypony's mind, as we were all under the impression that her relationship was still as grand as it was when it first began. She never spoke up about it, and to this day, I believe she would have never done so... which would have resulted in future abuse and a tragic marriage. Had it not been for a terrible mistake on Crescent's end, our little Moonlight would have been involved in a ghastly marriage."

"What'd he do," Crimson asks as a question, but the rigid inflection in his voice comes off as speaking a statement.

Celestia's eyes beam half-lidded into the void as her mind envisages the memory, "... It was one of the most heart-shattering plights I can remember. It was a typical day in the research labs. The team was working on a project, with Moonlight spear-heading the operation. Her growing tendency to arrive late by a few minutes was already worrisome to the researchers, but today, she was astoundingly tardy. She was an entire hour late. The team would have assumed she was sick and needed a day to rest, but as standard protocol dictates, Moonlight would have left a letter to the team if she was going to be absent. All were perplexed to find her not only arrive late, but appear in such a horribly torn state. Her face was reddened and she was wearing her old Scribe cloak, along with a change in mane-style, where sharp locks of her hair hid her beautiful face. Unlike the cloak and cape for the Head Researcher uniform, the Scribe cloak covers the entire body. The terrible truth hid behind her conservative appearance. Since she was a filly, Moonlight always kept her mane held in a tail with a band, and it gave her such an air of youth and innocent wonder. That day, her presence completely discarded the Moonlight we all knew, and no longer could she be left unchecked. Everything stopped, all projects came to a halt, and she was thoroughly questioned by her peers. She gave countless excuses; she was bedraggled from loss of sleep trying to figure out 'x' formula, her face was red and puffy from having bumped her nose on a door, and that she forgot to wash her Head Researcher uniform. They were the same deflections she has been giving since her emotional descent... it was always obvious that she was covering for something... or somepony. Even when the evidence was clearly present, it took copious amounts of coaxing by her peers to get her to come forth, and still, she was too emotionally distraught to speak to anypony except me. ... I still remember that day, when I was called away from a diplomatic meeting to have my presence made at her room in private. ... I recall removing my slipper to lift Moonlight's mane out of her face... and it showed to me a blood-shot eye and a bruised socket where a certain stallion's hoof had landed. Her cheek and temple was bruised and swollen... then, upon removing her cloak, her entire body followed the same soul-wrenching abuse that patterned over her face. Exposed and afraid, Moonlight finally revealed everything to me. The verbal assaults, the physical batterings, and to my shock, the stealing and spending of her money. She had entrusted him with the details to her depository for reasons even I do not know, and he abused that trust. The worst part of her revelation was that she spoke to me as if it was all her fault, as if none of this somehow fell burden to the stallion committing these atrocities. Every hit she took from him, she always believed she deserved it, even going out of her way to hide it for his sake. She truly loved him, but clearly it was misplaced."

"Clearly."

"Nevertheless, following her explanation, we discretely scoured the Castle in search of Crescent to bring his actions to light... and we found him. Yes, we found him in his assigned room. With a parade of guards at our backs, Moonlight and I caught him in the middle of having an affair with a mare he had met during the Royal Ball, which did well to explain why his absences and tardiness soared so dramatically."

"... Fucker."

"Indeed. As it had turned out, Moonlight inviting him to the Royal Ball was a blessing in disguise. His social status leaped through the roof when other elites made his acquaintance there. Combine his charming, seducing mannerisms with innumerable lies that told everypony he was a single, unmarried stallion in the human business, he found a home in the hearts of the high society. His frequent disappearances and disregard for his work as a janitor came from his new-found respect. He never needed any money to impress others, no, he found use of others spending their money for him... and as you can assume, he used Moonlight's bits when the occasion arose. During questioning, we found out directly from him that he grew impatient with Moonlight. Apparently he was sick of working as a janitor. If he had married and had children with Moonlight, he would have legally secured a position in the high society sooner, and other opportunities for high-profile flings could be acquired... which, indeed, was his goal all along. All he ever wanted was his name to be recognized and known. One big ploy to climb the social latter at Moonlight's expense. He would have succeeded, but fortunately for us, his violent tendencies knew no bounds, and it was the downfall of his masquerade. The high of riding his new-found status led him to become less frugal with abusing Moonlight, and it was his demise. Though, to his meager credit, he managed to keep one promise out of the countless many he broke... Moonlight was allowed to keep her chastity."

"Ch. Well that's just hunky-dory. All's forgiven." His sarcastic tone comes accompanied by his visible agitation. "... 'N where's this shithead now?"

Celestia shifts her gaze to look Crimson in the eyes. She can see the fire burning inside of him, the one that calls for vengeance. It's enough to make her smile in satisfaction to his unadulterated conviction for justice, but she shakes her head to him, "Worry not, my angel. After this incident was found and reported, he was swiftly imprisoned in the Canterlot Dungeon for six years. After he was released, a restraining order was placed, and he was promptly banned from staying and entering Canterlot. His current whereabouts are lost and forgotten, just as he is."

Celestia notes the displeasure on Crimson's face. He understands the futility of attempting to exact any form of revenge on Moonlight's perpetrator, but it doesn't stop him from sitting in contempt.

"... Crimson," Celestia hums to him, reattaining his attention.

"... Yeah. Sorry, princess. Just... Moonlight didn't deserve a second of what she got."

"It is upsetting. She is the last pony I would subject to tragedy, but there are many innocent lives that suffer from injustice. That is why we should always keep our chins raised and our arms open, for there are many who need comfort and strength, and they seek those who are comforting and strong."

"Hmn. Like you."

"... I had 'someone' else in mind, but I appreciate your kind words."

"They're not just kind words. I mean them."

"I know you do, and I do my best to provide leadership and counseling to my subjects... but as you have already know, I am not immune to the toils of life. I sometimes fail to decide rationally or diligently due to self-doubt or hesitation."

"Everyone screws up now 'n then. Doesn't mean you're no better at bein' a role-model, as long as what's in yer heart stays true. You only started wearin' your crown not too long ago right? Give yourself some slack."

"You must understand that minor errors aren't as minor when you are responsible for leading a country. My sister and I have only held our crowns for twenty five years, and in that time, there has been much to attend to... and many opportunities for failure."

"Twenty five? ... Twenty five years?"

"Twenty five years, yes."

"I thought you became princess recently. Twenty five years ain't no 'recent' to me."

"It is to me."

"... No disrespect, princess, but just how old are you?"

"Oho," Celestia blinks lubriciously and chuckles, "What a thing to ask a mare~"

"Honest question."

"... I'll say only this: older than you might think."

Crimson smirks to her sly answer. "Fair game. I'll get a real answer outta you one day."

"I eagerly await for that day then."

"... You said you've been dealin' with a lot. I'm curious about the shit you gotta hassle through as the princess of Equestria. -- Oh, uh, right... my manners. Forgot to ask earlier 'cause I was upset, but... you don't mind swearin', do you?"

"I believe we're both grown adults."

"Right. Just checkin'."

"... Hmn, where to begin. I suppose my main priority has been increasing the quality of living conditions through out the land. You see, Equestria was... not in the greatest state before our coronation. Thirty-two years ago, a continental war across all of Equus drove death and famine into not only ponykind, but every other kingdom... for nearly a decade. Changelings, dragons, yaks, buffalo, camels, zebras, hippogryphs, seaponies, and a plethora of other races that were caught in the middle of the crossfire. ... It was a catastrophe that, I hope, never shall repeat itself again. Under the care of my sister and I, we have had great success in re-establishing the major cities and expanding past them, but the lack of mobility and security is my greatest concern. Many of my ponies are unprotected and subject to attacks. ... You witnessed the destruction of a village first-hoof."

"And I'd kill that bastard again if I could."

Celestia exhales through her nose, smiling in amusement. "I do hope your reassignment proves to quell future attacks. ... Crimson." He raises his eyebrows, reaffirming to her that she has his attention. "Your gift is something to treasure. With the might to slay a dragon, but the tenderness to comfort an aching heart, I couldn't be more thrilled to have you as one of my subjects. You are exactly what Equestria needed right now. I do not know what divine force bestowed this blessing upon us, but I am happy it did. ... Could I bother you with a difficult question?"

"'Course you can, princess."

"... I mean no offense, I am only curious. Why do you choose to stay in Equestria? Moonlight informed me that you would rather stay here and aid us in the face of our current threat, rather than find a way to return to your homeworld. Why is this?"

"... Just... feels like the right thing to do, I suppose. It ain't everyday that you get suddenly yanked away from one world to another, not including the fact that that's even possible. Whatever force reckoned I should be added to this place probably knew what it was doin'. Like you said, I'm just what y'all needed at this very specific point in time. Everyone I've met, all the directions I've turned, it's all led me to you right here, right now, havin' this conversation. If I'd choose to leave, it would be more than selfish, it would be down-right desertion. Everythin's lined up fer me this far, it's all the motivation I need to keep me here. ... Besides, the only important person in my life isn't too far from me anyway, there wasn't anythin' particularly important I left by being sent here."

Celestia's satisfaction to his earnest being is contained in the glee present in her face. Her pink irises glint with the lifting of her spirit, finding solace in watching him as he sits there, right in front of her on the carpet. She mindlessly gazes at his human figure, the scratches on his face and body, the dark circles under his eyes, the mild scraggling of his hair... they all stand as pillars to his unbreakable fortitude. With one more thing to ask him, Celestia speaks again, "... What was your life like before your arrival to Equestria?"

"Ah. It's a long story. None of it really bridges between here and there, but, uh... guess we can start with my pa--"

Without warning, the doors to the throne room come open, revealing two guard stallions in golden armor standing at its wake. One of them vocalizes, "Princess Celestia, your presence is requested at the Consortium Board Room."

Crimson and Celestia turn their glances from the interrupting stallions to each other, with Crimson chuckling, "Looks like it's a story fer another time."

"I apologize for asking the question at such a bad time, I should have realized my duties would call me away."

"Nah, nah, no trouble at all. Next time."

"Mm. Next time," Celestia repeats. "... I will hold you to your word."

Crimson rises to his feet from the ground as Celestia stands from her throne. They walk alongside each other down the stairs and out of the throne room, parting ways as Crimson makes his way towards the East Tower.

‎ ‎

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~ Canterlot Castle, Moonlight's Room ~<
February 4th, Wednesday, 11:33

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‎ ‎

"... Nope. Terrible. Let's fix that too. ... And that. ... What was I thinking setting those capacitors like that? That won't do at all..."

Moonlight murmurs to herself as she studies her original ANA blueprint. She scrutinizes her own scheme harshly, mentally scolding herself at every turn for menial imperfections in its design. Be it the needlessly bulky shape of the chassis or clunky setting of the internal parts, she now scribbles into a more modern gridded paper as she maps out a newer, fleshed out design that uses her old one as a base.

Her focus remains undisturbed until the sound of doors opening hijacks her attention. She comes to a sudden halt, her eyes dart to the front of the room like a deer caught in headlights. She catches Crimson peeking his head from the opened door, looking in inquisitively. Once the two make eye contact, he steps fully into view and smiles. Moonlight's tense shoulders loosen once she sees it's only him. She adjusts her glasses and smiles back, "How did it go with Celestia?"

"I'd say went well," he says as he approaches Moonlight and stands at her side. He scans the lab table she sits next to, seeing a plethora of papers, inkwells, and used plumes scattered about.

"She told you about your reassignment?"

"Yeah. Kinda bogus. I was hopin' we would be able to do more field ops together."

Moonlight averts her gaze and smiles slightly wider at his desire.

"But, like Celestia said, you'll be much safer here in Canterlot. Can't complain about that."

"I'll be safe, but that doesn't mean you will. The Elite are not known for going on walks in the garden. There's always something trying to harm them." She pauses her work and stares at nothing... until she lifts her firm gaze to him. "Crimson, promise me you'll be very careful while working with them."

"There ain't no reason to fret, Moonlight," he reaches his hand to adjust the lop-sided collar on her Scribe cloak, "I'll be just fine. Sure I might take a few hits here 'n there, but I'm pretty good at that."

"Good at almost dying? That's not something to be proud of..."

"Almost dyin' ain't actually dyin' though, so I'd say it is," he smirks.

Filled with melancholy, her eyes move with her head to look up at him. "... It's smiles and giggles now, but I'll never forgive you if I have to attend your funeral one of these days..."

Crimson's grin falls awry at the sight of her somber bearing, but only for a moment. He opens his arms to motion a hug... but to his offer, she doesn't immediately accept. His arms slowly fall back down to his sides as his brows furrow with fret.

"... Promise me," she firmly demands. "Promise me you'll keep yourself safe."

Though her expression is serious and her adorable voice coming out as stern as it can possibly be, Crimson can't help but smile again. "I promise you, Moonlight. I promise that I'll make it back from every rodeo, and the first thing I'll do is visit you. That sound good?"

Moonlight stays quiet for a moment, staring up at him with the same fixed expression... then, she reaches forward and latches onto him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Crimson steps closer and couples up next to her, embracing the hug they now share.

"... You better not break your promises."

"Never have. Never will."

They come apart after Moonlight softens her hold. She sits straight on her stool again and plants her eyes down at the papers on the lab table. She stares at all of the complicated schematics and numbers in the papers, but she doesn't focus on them. "Are you going to go see Storm soon?"

"Gotta. Gonna try my best to get that relic outta her hands and into ours. Or whatever respective appendage you hold."

"Hopefully her demands aren't too high, the last thing we need is for her to want something out of our reach. Which is very few things, but the simpler the request, the better."

"'N you? What'll keep you busy today?"

"I was going to finish developing my plans for the mark-two variation of the original ANA. I have most of the plans mapped out already... I think. Unfortunately, I'm lacking a few components I'll need to build it..."

"A few?"

"A lot..."

"Damn. Can't believe them Royal Labs'r whatever don't got the stuff you need."

"Oh... no... no, they... probably do. I, just, um... I was referring to the resources in my room..."

"Ah. No problem then. Just head on down to the labs fer the stuff you'll need."

"..."

"... Moonlight, you're gonna have to show up there eventually. You can't hide in yer room forever."

Moonlight releases a brooding sigh, nodding her head in understanding, "I know, it's just... t-they... they might be angry at me."

"Fer what?"

"... For being gone several years. We haven't been able to do many experiments or studies with me being so far away... I effectively halted our progress when I moved away."

"Not even close, Moonlight. You got a number of friends out there that'd love nothin' more than to see you again. Them researchers in the labs, they were pretty ripe with the idea of you bein' back. They weren't mad in the slightest... especially that Magnifying Glass fella."

Moonlight scrunches her muzzle and turns her gaze firmly away at the mentioning of his name.

"'N I heard he's been waitin' to bark up yer tree for years now."

She snaps her eyes back to him. "W-Who told you that?"

"Celestia, f'course."

"What else did she tell you?"

"Just that Magnifying Glass was one of the original team members before you became the Head Researcher. Seemed like a good guy. ... Are you a little scared to meet him again? Is that why yer beatin' around the bush so much?"

"N-No! W-Well... it's, um... it's..."

Crimson turns his head slightly to mire her with his right eye.

"... It's just that, it's been so long since I found out he liked me... and I told him that I liked him. I never told him up-front, all of our conversations happened through the letters we shared. Even after I stopped writing everypony letters, he still wrote to me. I'm bewildered that anypony would feel this way about me for so long. I'm not..." her voice quickly drops in volume, mumbling a whisper, "... really anything special."

"... Magnifying Glass 'n I would highly disagree with that, Moonlight. There's so many good qualities about you, I'd lose my voice tryin'a say 'em all. Yer house back in Baltimare? A work of art, all done by your love and care. These crazy contraptions? Built by you and only you. To top off your unrivaled intelligence, you're one of the sweetest people, or eh, ponies, I've ever met. They don't make 'em like you, Moonlight, not where I come from at least. Now c'mon, better to get things done now then later. Go meet back up with them researchers of yers. Try to kindle somethin' that should'a been a long time ago."

Crimson moves a thick lock of Moonlight's mane out of her face, shifting it to the side to reveal her left eye better. He stares at her beautifully clean form, her gleaming eyes, the silky coat that entails her pearly face with complete lack of blemish or imperfection.

...

Like if reality flashed a snapshot, Crimson's imagination unwillingly envisions this innocent mare beaten. Bruised. Bleeding. The left corner of her lip is swollen and her eye is a presentation of misery. Crimson's shoulders slowly raise, along with a fire of anguish and vengeance--

"I-Is there something on my face?" she breaks him out of his daydreaming with her sudden trepidation.

"... N... No. Nothin' on yer face, Moonlight. Clean and adorable, as it always is."

Moonlight's cheeks are quick to heat up with the tossed compliment.

"... I'll be back soon 'n visit you at the labs," Crimson makes his way towards the doors as he speaks, "hopefully with the relic." He opens the door he came through and steps out, glancing back at the silent mare before he closes it, if only to make sure she doesn't require anything before he steps out. She only gazes at him timidly without uttering a word. He takes this as his cue to march away.

...

"... Wait! Crimson!" Moonlight blurts suddenly. "Scribe Swirl wanted this!" Her horn is encased in her blue aura as she levitates her mini-ANA from the table into the air in front of her. "... I forgot to ask you to take this to the labs," she mumbles in vain, knowing she won't be heard. She doesn't receive any response and her door stays closed, remaining in the silence of her echoing room. Her ears flop to her head, realizing now that she not only has no excuse, but a reason to return to the labs. "... Hooh."

Inquire the Wiser

~ ???, ??? ~<

‎

"... Wait! Crimson!" Moonlight blurts suddenly.

Reacting instantly to the sound of her voice, Crimson halts and rushes back towards the doors to her room. He opens them and peers in, calling out in reply, "What's wrong, Moon-- ... light?"

His expression notches with puzzlement upon glancing towards the lab table Moonlight was sitting on seconds ago. She is absent, along with every paper and flask she had scattered at its top. Everything is untouched and idly organized. He shifts his analyzing eyes around the room, and he begins to realize that the ambiance around him is illustrated with an uncanny lack of hue. While color is still present, everything is significantly faded in its saturation, giving the world a halted, dreamy look. Accompanying this eerie distortion of the world, distant sounds coming from intangible sources ring quietly; sounds of wind chimes, gently rustling leaves, and calm wind come as ghosts.

"... Moonlight?" he calls again, turning his head left and right with uncertainty. He steps into the room further, letting go of the door and standing up straight.

The door comes to a slamming shut behind him, loud enough to bring a wince to his face. He turns his head to the door that violently closed itself, seeing now that the handles have disappeared. He turns himself around to face the doors completely, making sure that what he is seeing is actually happening. He reaches forward and presses his hand on the cobalt plate of the door that once held the handles. He feels as if he is touching a wall, the door does not give at all to his push.

"... What the hell is goin' on?" he mumbles to himself as he turns around, looking back towards the room again. With a strong gust of wind blown from the ether to ruffle his hair, his eyes grow wide when he sees a figure sitting at the lab table, exactly where Moonlight was sitting before. A shadowy figure with unclear features sits on the stool, wearing a black and blue hood that sheens. Judging from their general size and shape, he assumes it to be a pony, or some other non-human figure. Staring at this entity muddles his conscious, it appears as if this being is constantly shifting and blurring. Their form remains still, yet moves without actually moving.

Their presence is inadvertently causing Crimson discomfort. The very sight of this being is driving emotions into him that can only be described as... fear. Humility. A weight that tells him he's worthless under their gaze, calling for his immediate surrender and humbleness, like a tyrant towering over their servant.

He actively combats this internal turmoil, finding it a difficult battle to fight while trying to speak his mind. He stares at this enigmatic presence in silence, scattering through his perplexity in an attempt to vocalize.

Before he has the chance to, the figure commences first, "Greetings... Arch Angel." Their voice -- the resounding tone of a feminine timbre... her voice, it resonates just as her blurring appearance does, echoing several times over itself as if multiple beings were speaking at once.

Crimson squints at her as he attempts to piece together as much sense as possible.

"There is no need to speak, Arch Angel. You must only listen. And listen well, for my words will serve to guide you through the mist of life."

"N... Wait, no," Crimson finally speaks, "wait a damn minute. What's goin' on here? Who in the hell're you? Moonlight was just..."

"Fret not. She is safe. You are not in Canterlot. You are currently elsewhere, despite what your surroundings appear to be."

"... Where'm I?"

"Do not worry about where you are... it is neither here, nor there."

Crimson's body now begins to rise in temperature, fighting furiously at odds with the cloaked figure's powerful presence. He can not remember the last time he has felt these emotions, the ones that grip at his throat and weaken his knees. Though difficult, he fortifies his heart and mind enough to reply, yet unwillingly, his words come meek, "Tell me who you are. I ain't well on shadows and curtains."

"Me?" she repeats in a rather entertained air. "Oh, yes. The first question of many you possess. Indeed, it is why I am here with you, Arch Angel. To answer said questions. You wish to know who I am, correct?"

Crimson nods twice.

"You may call me Fate. Consider me to be your... spiritual advisor. The gift you harbor, Arch, comes with many intricacies I am sure you do not understand. I am here to aid you with those intricacies."

Crimson's demeanor slowly begins to simmer, aiding him in his tussle with her radiating presence. While irritation is an emotion he tries to suppress, he lets it collect for the sake of remaining firm. "... Help me with my gift, huh? Ain't that somethin'. The Arch guidance councilor I always needed comes to my aid, 'n I only had to wait twent seven fuckin' years. Quite a few years too late fer the rest of my family."

"Do not mistake me as something I am not. No, Arch Angel, I am not the guidance councilor... I choose to be your guidance councilor. Understand that I am not compelled to assist you or anyone else. I appear unto you because of certain... circumstances, that apply only to you. For you see, I know more about you than you may know about yourself."

"Yeah, right." Crimson shakes his head, "Nah. I'm dreamin'. This is another one of them dreams I have."

"Please stay on course, Arch Angel. What you see before you is no delusion."

"And how do I know you ain't?"

"Determine that for yourself once our exchange is complete."

Crimson mulls over her firm air. Thinking critically, this would be one of the most coherent 'dreams' he has had, if assuming he actually is dreaming. It almost feels like one, but he decides to keep his reservations. "... I'll give you doubt's benefit."

"It is all I ask."

"Let's say you ain't bullshittin' me and all this is real. You said you know more about me than I know about myself. You omniscient 'r somethin'?"

"Omniscient?" Crimson swears he hears a chuckle emit from her echoing, dissonant voice. "That would make things infinitely easier if I was omniscient. No, I do not know everything... but I do know very much. All my knowledge comes through observation."

"'Observation', huh? ... So what do you know about me?"

"Mmh. I suppose this will serve as our first topic," Fate declares. "Well then. Let us begin... with you."

"Mmkay. Is there, uh... anythin' I should say, or...?"

Her form distorts in a very unclear manner, yet Crimson's senses pick up that she shook her head. "All you must do is listen, or beg a question if something is amiss."

"... Alright."

"As you know, you are an Arch Angel. You are a being capable of harnessing not only the physical world around you, but also the planes beyond it. You are a being of light and power, and you use this power to maintain the balance in a world troubled by chaos."

"I 'maintain the balance' of the world? Sounds a little above my pay-grade, don't it?"

"Not in the slightest. You single-handedly restored order in your homeworld, did you not?"

"Winnin' back my homestate from a bunch'a assholes ain't the same as savin' the entire world."

"An entire state given peace, solely by your hand. Imagine what you could have accomplished with the aid of your fellow man. That is not to demean the role played by your sister, no. She was important in her duties, to keep you composed and sane. Were it not for her, you would have been lost long ago."

"Duties? The hell is that supposed to mean? She ain't some sorta pawn. She's my sister." His uncertainty emerges again. It's starting to dawn on him that maybe this isn't a dream, implying this being, Fate, does exist outside of his mind somehow. Her very existence and everything she knows about him is causing gaps in his assurance.

"But of course, Arch Angel. The life you have lived is all yours, the life your sister lived is all hers. I do not interfere with the lives of others... usually."

Crimson's expression hardens. He refrains from speaking his accusative thoughts, ensuring himself that she'll have some sort of worthwhile explanation.

"The life you have lived is, indeed, all your own. But, I am the reason you are here in Equestria. I am the reason why you were pulled from your home. It was no easy task, and I have done so on a very definitive basis. You see, an old evil has awoken itself in my homeland. Due to certain... grounds, I am unable to aid it as I have done before. You, Arch Angel, can. You have completed your mission in your homeland, they no longer require your protection. Mine does. It is not due to my selfishness that I distance you from your world, but because of your own willingness to give. You possess many features entailed in a hero, and I knew you would be up to this task. I could have selected countless other Arch Angels to pursue this mission... but none of them have quite displayed a disposition as eloquent as yours."

"... So my world got turned upside-down because of you, huh?"

"Yes."

"The life I was supposed to live with my sister, the peace 'n quiet that I earned, gone. Because of you."

"If that is how you wish to view your current situation. But I know I made the right choice. I know that you, Arch Angel, will take this new opportunity to do further good, as you have always done in the past."

Crimson briefly turns her words inside himself. His stern front fades for muse, meditating everything he has experienced so far. She is right about everything she has assumed about him. He cannot find it in himself to be terribly upset about being pulled away from Earth, especially not when he thinks about those he has met. He did want a life of peace, and he did want to settle down... but the more he thinks about it, he could not envisage sitting around and farming all day. At least, not anymore. The only thing that really mattered to him was Viola's safety, and now she has it. While he would love to be with her again, he can already interact with her in the Rift as if she was next to him. There truly is nothing for him left back at Earth that really calls for his immediate return, and he is further pressed to stay now that Equestria faces unknown danger.

"Understand that many who have suffered as you have do not compose themselves to your extent. You have more than enough reason to be bitter, loathing, and distant from the world, but instead, you choose to move forward, and see the good in everything that is, and that will be. Had I tasked any other angel with this, and pull them away from their own world, it would likely end in self-inflicted tragedy. You are special, Arch Angel. This is why you have been chosen."

"... How have you been watchin' me?"

"By listening to your Arch. All Arch Angels are capable of sensing the essence of one another, far beyond space and time. It is a tether that has existed since the dawn of our kind. This tether keeps us all indirectly united through a phenomena named The Weave, where our souls collect."

"Yer sayin' I have this 'tether' too?"

"Yes. An example of this tether would be your sister. You feel very curious when you are around her, no?"

"... Yeah. It's a real weird feelin'... like, I'm able to feel her, hear her, without actually... bein' around her. I always thought it was just because I knew her so well, figured it was normal in other folks."

"Not at all. That is the work of the tether."

"... But if this is the case, why can't I feel you? Why can't I feel all the countless other angels you've been referrin' to?"

"That is a matter of the individual. Other than certain... 'personal' properties that affect your tether, such as intimacy with your sister for instance, only those honed and potent in their gift can reach beyond themselves, extend their gaze past the physical world, towards the realm of intangibility and the soul. I am one such being. I have been able to watch you after your connection with your Arch, see upon your meandering soul as it progresses through the toils of life."

"Does that mean I gotta actually 'use' my Arch for others to 'listen' me?"

"A very crude description, but yes. This also implies there are other angels around who are able to reach your soul."

"So if I don't use it, others can't see me."

"Mmn, correct... to an extent. An Arch Angel, while possessing Arch itself, will only be as potent with it as they choose to be. It is like a muscle, a muscle which must be trained constantly for progress to be made. A muscle that is not trained withers away. Think of this muscle as a beacon. If the beacon is weak, and eventually fades, then it will become unreadable. An angel's Arch can wane so severely, they lose all connection with The Weave, and eventually, their Arch itself. This is a rare occurrence, it happens to very few."

"... I can't even remember when I first used my Arch. I barely use it now, don't find much point in it. Must have been so long ago."

"It was, and I shall remind you. When you and your sister were young, both at the age of ten, you were fetching pales of water near a spring close to the home of your grandparents. You defended your sister against two grown men who ambushed you. They sought to kidnap your sister, they wanted to perform atrocious acts upon her, but you did not allow it. The emotion and anger inside you became so potent, your Arch autonomously awakened itself in response to your will. Yes, you carried your sister in your arms as you walked away from the river, leaving the two grown men to stain the soil with blood."

His memory returns vividly. He remembers every detail of that day, the surge of adrenaline and heightened sense of awareness... and the horrified faces of the men who became the first of many to die at his hand. A child his age couldn't know that he would become a conduit of golden light possessing the capability to readily smite another man, until it had already happened.

"Of course, your parents hid this gift from you for your entire life, up until that point. Once the truth was revealed, they had no choice but to come forth. Your parents are to blame for the severe hamper in the growth of your Arch. I know this because I read your father's Arch, I read his intentions. Instead of nurturing your gift from your youth, he stowed it away, as if it were a plague placed upon their lineage. Despite such a late connection with your gift, you've managed to grow wonderfully. I could only imagine how powerful you would have been if you were properly nursled."

Crimson's eyes fall to the marble ground of Moonlight's room. His father was keen on keeping his gift suppressed, in the belief that the curse which afflicted them, their Arch, would somehow eventually fade away. Had things gone his way, he would have succeeded. A semblance of normal life could be reattained if they were freed from their bindings. But, life is never that predictable. Given the circumstances, Crimson instead harnessed his 'curse' to trudge through life's challenges, proving to be triumphant. Though to him, a curse is still a curse.

"But that is in the past. It is not wise to linger on it. We must focus on the present and all that comes after. Let us look now to your Arch as it stands, and which strengths you possess from your lineage."

"... Strengths?"

Her phantasmal form signals a nod. "Every Arch Angel comes with a set of strengths, depending on the genes given to them by their forefathers. Let us start at the top of the latter and climb down, it will broaden your understanding this way. There are two attunements in your Arch, Body and Soul. Do not think of this in black and white, but instead in a spectrum where infinite shades of grey exist. You are born somewhere in this spectrum, where your talents lean towards either or. It is most common for an angel to possess more of one attunement than the other, but both will always congeal in your being. Think of it as a fraction, where angels typically contain three-fourths of one attunement and one-fourth of the other, or some other fraction of similar nature. Do you understand?"

"So far, yeah."

"Good. Now, it is very rare for an angel to find themselves in the far ends of this spectrum, and even rarer to be found directly in the center. You, Arch Angel, are of true rarity. Your Arch stands almost perfectly in the center, with only a slight lean towards Soul. Truly remarkable."

"How're you able to see that?"

"The same way I see everything about you."

"... So what does any of that actually mean fer me?"

"It means you are capable of mastering both traits with little effort. Those attuned with Body are generally large, physically powerful beings who handle the tangible world. Those attuned in Soul do not appear very different from their fellow kin, but do house nuanced features that can be used to distinguish them. Angels of Soul are skilled at reading and manipulating others, running through the mind and spirit, and handling metaphysical threats. You, Arch Angel, have a physical body which serves as a powerful catalyst to your will, and, you also possess the skills to reach beyond the physical realm, capable of moving the world from its very essence. Strength and will perfectly intertwined with mental prowess and cunning of the soul. Many would be jealous."

"Guess I can understand why. I reckon you chose me fer this Equestria expedition because I'm 'special.'"

"Even if you were the most perfect embodiment of Arch imaginable, I would not have chosen you because of it. As I stated earlier, I chose you for your selfless nature."

Crimson crosses his arms and looks down at himself with a strong muse.

"Now then, moving forward from the spectrum that is Body and Soul, we now look at the classes that narrow down an angel's talents. There are four main classes which break up into infinite subsets, but we will focus only on the classes. Two of these classes belong to Body, the other two, Soul. Body harbors the classes Vanguard and Tower. Appropriately, the angels of large robust build who stand as impenetrable walls are of the Tower. Their body is not easily toppled, and their mind even less so. Angels of strength and speed, those who are customarily at the front of a battle, those who brunt the first of an onslaught, are apart of the Vanguard. Though they do not harness the raw power of the Tower, the Vanguard specializes in both strength and tenacity, capable of suffering immense physical trauma for those they protect. ... Does this sound familiar?"

"Sounds familiar alright."

"Then, let us proceed to the classes of Soul. The first class, and the most common for the Soul attunement, is the String Singer. They are the angel that is beloved among many. They are attractive, well-spoken, and are very pleasant to be around. They radiate a natural charisma that endears the hearts of those who make their presence. They raise morale and stand as beacons of hope in the gloom. If not immediately apparent, this is your second specialization, and... your sister's only specialization."

"It would explain why she was always a popular girl... but she never did like all the attention she got."

"It is uncommon for a String Singer to be as socially recluse as she is, but not impossible. Just as it is greatly uncommon for an angel to possess more than one specialization, here you are. You and your sister are very... unique. A pair perfect for each other's strengths and weaknesses."

"... Yeah."

"Lastly, and possibly the most difficult class to master, is the Soul's Weave Watcher. Those found in this class specialize in all things metaphysical. They are the ones who can read the actions of others, tap into their conscious, and establish a spiritual connection with anything and everything. They are the ones who remain in the back-line of the stage, viewing the performance from a different perspective, and silently bending the actors to their will."

"And I reckon that's what you are, considerin' you perfectly described yerself."

"Correct. I am a Weave Watcher, the class of Arch Angel who specializes in being everywhere, yet nowhere at the same time."

"Are all you Watcher angels displacin' people?"

"No. It takes an angel perfected in their craft to do as I can. I have yet to meet another."

"Quite a compliment you gave yerself."

"I only speak the truth, primal concepts such as personal pride mean nothing to me. Now, this covers the fundamentals of Arch and its reach. Do you have any questions thus far?"

"Yeah. Earlier you were sayin' you picked me outta 'countless others.' Just to be sure, there are many more like me out there?"

"Like us, Arch Angel. Like us. Yes, there are."

"How come I've never seen any of 'em?"

"They are far, far away. So far away, you will most likely never meet any of them. Neither will I."

"... Hmn," Crimson puts his hands in his pockets. "... Guess that wraps up the basics then."

"Indeed. Do keep in mind that these fundamentals are broad-reaching, they elaborate on all aspects of Arch as simply as possible. The true nature of Arch is unpredictable and complex, just as every angel that uses it. Like anything in life, things are subject to reach past any established boundaries."

"So, wait... I, uh, actually got another question."

"And I may have an answer."

"My dad... and my brother. They had Arch too."

"Of course."

"... I don't think it was the same as mine 'n Viola's."

"An astute observation. No, it was not the same. Your brother and your father both belonged to the Tower."

"That was my guess. They were beefy fuckin' guys."

"As all Tower are. It is quite enigmatic that both you and your sister are not of the same class and attunement."

"Do the kids of an angel usually inherit their class?"

"Yes. And not only that, but as normality dictates, only the first-born child of an angel inherits their Arch. Any children born after do not."

"... How does that work?"

"It is like questioning why a plant absorbs sunlight through its leaves. It is simply how nature proceeds. You, however, have managed to bypass several extremely rare exceptions to be the man you are right now. And even with the stunting of your Arch's growth, you have done well to take advantage of your rarity."

"Can't take all the glory. Everythin' I learned was from my dad and Vigil."

"They taught you incorrectly. The ways of their teaching were based solely in their interpretation of their own Arch. You are not like them, you should have been taught in a manner that accommodates to your class. This is why the children of an angel are always born in the same class as the parent, so that the teaching may be properly passed on."

"... But wrong teachin' is better than no teachin'."

"In this instance, you are correct. Even if their teachings were misguided, the discipline required to harness Arch has been achieved. Though, this is why you struggle with your gift. You harness it in a way that is unnatural for your being. While not impossible to wield Arch in a manner other angels do, it is needlessly more difficult. You must adapt it to your own needs, and find what works best for you."

"And how'm I supposed to do that?"

"It is simple. You must only spend time with your Arch. Channel it, let it run through your body in an awakened state. Let your mind and body bend according to what it desires."

"Kinda cryptic, ain’t it?"

"To give a familiar visualization, imagine lifting a rock. A very heavy rock. There are many ways to lift this rock, but an equal number of ways are needlessly difficult. You can attempt to lean over the rock and lift it up with your lower back. A very difficult, painful thing to do. Alternatively, your body can find a better-suited manner of lifting the same rock, by squatting down and keeping it close to your bosom. It is the same concept for your Arch, harness it in a way that is most natural for you."

"... I'll try to take that advice, miss Fate."

"Please, only Fate. There is no need for such formalities. Do ruminate on what I have told you. Now, I am certain there are places you need to be. This is where I will let you go."

"Righty'o. ... Oh, uh... if I ever need to talk to you again, how can I do that?"

"Do not focus on me, focus on the tasks that lie ahead of you. Act as if I was never there."

Crimson looks visibly dissatisfied with this answer, but he takes it, trusting in her words.

"I do not believe Equestria has changed in landscape since I was last there. Is there anywhere you must be?"

"Oh, uh," Crimson mentally configures himself for a moment, "Yeah. You don't reckon you could put me down on the top of the Canterlot mountain? I need to meet someone there."

"Meet someone? In a secluded location away from all others?" she repeats in an echoing huff of amusement. "Yes, I know exactly where you are referring to. I will set you there. ... One last shard of advice, Arch Angel."

"Yeah?"

"While not normally noteworthy, I feel that this information might serve... useful, to you. You, as an Arch Angel, are capable of many things. One of those things is the transfer of your seed into a female's harbor. Be advised that your seed will automatically recompose itself at the molecular level to satisfy the needs of any sentient female's biology."

Crimson's eyes pry open.

"Indeed. Exercise caution, Arch Angel."

"So, no, wait-- I--"

The world around him begins to melt away, becoming a drooping mess of wonky sounds and dripping structure, until nothing but blackness remains. Not a second after, reality around him reconstructs into rock and cloud, the temperature around him immediately drops, and a light mist fogs the air. Crimson looks around himself quickly, taking in that he's standing on a spacious cliff-edge right under the cloud line. He peeks off the cliff, seeing a steep descent down towards the distant grass fields that lie far below. He then turns around, facing towards the mountain. He sees that he's not actually on the peak of the mountain, but a few meters before it. There is an inconspicuous vertical crack on this face of the mountain, possibly leading into a certain dragoness's cave.

"... Well, shiet," he huffs under his breath. With a deep sigh, he walks towards it.

Peculiar Barter

Author's Note

This chapter has been updated and modified as of 09/01/22.

Peculiar Barter

~ Equestria, Canterlot Mountain ~<
February 4th, Wednesday, 11:57

‎

Crimson's breath blows visibly as he walks towards the mouth of the cave. He slides his hands into his pockets and scans the wall of the mountain, analyzing the camouflaged entryway, only visible at a straight-forward angle. The size of the entrance is roughly three times his height, but surrounding rocks and chilled shrubbery block it from blatant view.

He steps into the entrance, greeted by warmth that surrounds him as he escapes the open air. The entrance tunnel appears to swerve left and right, forcing those who enter to swivel in this vestibule-like corridor.

Finally, the tunnel gives way into a large, cavernous expanse known to be Storm's cave. The ceiling reaches high, sloping down like a large dome. Scattered about and hanging from this ceiling are unusual bio-luminescent glowing vines and flowers which grow all throughout to provide a natural, green-blueish light. Several notable features present in this domicile include a long stone table on the left side which sits all sorts of gems, jewels, gold, devices, and trinkets. At the far end, opposite of the entrance, there are three hide-skin flaps that lead into different rooms. Lastly, there is an in-ground pool in the very center where Storm is found relaxing. Her eyes are closed while she rests against the wall of the pool, keeping only her neck and head above the water.

A small smile grows on Crimson's face, filled with ease that he wasn't deceived by this outlandish dragoness. She's here, her belongings are here, and there, laying on the stone table, the necklace he must acquire sits among the other valuables. It would be feasible for him to sneak over and take it. He could run with it and jump off the side of the mountain, using his Arch to fly himself over to Canterlot. She won't be able to follow him there, not if she wants to stay alive. ... But he can't see himself doing any of that, especially since Storm held up her side of the deal. All that's left now is to see what she wants for it, hopefully nothing unreasonable. Maybe he'll leave his run and jump plan in the back-burner, in case this little meeting doesn't go as planned.

He refocuses his attention to Storm, she still sits in the water without a shift in posture. He isn't sure whether she's asleep or not, but he'll soon to find out. He makes his way towards her, his flip-flops clap against the solid floor as he approaches the pool.

The sound of his footwear is enough for the dragoness to open her sleepy sky-blue eyes. She turns to the unfamiliar sound, but her placid air remains held as if she was expecting him already. Upon seeing him, she sits up and rests her elbows on the edge of the pool, putting on a snarky smile, "You found me."

"That I did."

She releases a silent but prolonged yawn as he replies, letting her thin, swiveling tongue squirm freely before she shuts her mouth.

"I ain't botherin' you, am I?"

"What time is it?"

"Noon, I reckon. Sun was overhead when I came in."

"Mm. You picked a good time then. Welcome."

"Much obliged. You've got a nice place."

"Thanks. Years of hard work went into it." Storm tilts her head a little, smiling at Crimson curiously. It drives him to return a questioning glance.

"... What?"

"Heh, guess I'm still not fully used to you yet. A talking human sure is a weird sight."

"Trust me when I say, the opposite is equally true. I ain't had a run-in with a huge talkin' lizard before until yesterday."

Storm shifts her glance between him and the water she rests in. "Feel like taking a dip? Water's warm," she offers as she points down to it.

"Appreciate the hospitality, but I'll decline. So," Crimson sits down on the edge of the pool, fixing his gaze on her firmly, "what do you want fer the necklace?"

"Oh. Nothing but business with you, is it?" she smirks. "That's a let-down. I had expected you to be more fun."

"We can have all the fun we want after Equestria ain't subject to catastrophe. Now c'mon, tell me what you came up with. Money? Food? Another necklace?"

"Mmm..." Storm begins to ponder the exact same way she did back at the destroyed town after Moonlight had tried to give her offers. Crimson comes to realize from her body language that she isn't actually pondering, she's just being difficult. "... Nope. Haven't come up with anything yet."

"Huh. It's almost like I saw that comin'." He sighs and scratches the back of his head, looking down at the gently rippling water that Storm bothers. He leans a bit forward and stares at his own reflection. It's been a while since he has seen himself last at Moonlight's bathroom, surprised at how much can change in the span of a few days. Aside from darkening circles under his eyes, he looks at the scar on his face left behind by the dragon he slew. He turns his face to give it a better view and brings his fingers to it, running them across its length.

"My brother really fucked up your face," Storm comments breezily.

"Yeah, but that's as far as he got."

"Heh, that's true. Watching you kill him was a treat."

"I bet. I, too, couldn't stand seein' him ransack an innocent town."

"... What? No, not that. I could care less. I'm glad he's dead because he always takes my stuff, saying crap like, 'I am deserving! You do nothing! All you do is take, but never kill!' Like, I'm not an eighteen-foot tall mass of scales, moron. I can't kill things as easily as you can."

"So you would if you could?" Crimson squints at her.

"Uuuh..." she shifts her glance between him and other random objects, "... no?"

Crimson's eyes narrow further.

"Look, Crim, I've never killed any stupid ponies before. Not on purpose at least. No need to get all fired up. It was always my brothers doing the murdering and the burning. I just take things from them."

"Stealin' ain't any better."

"Oh, come on. They were already dead by the time I ran off with their stuff. Dead ponies won't be needing their bits, now will they?"

"The worst part about you is that you're talkin' as if you were seriously in the right."

"I know what my brothers did is twisted in your eyes, but what was I gonna do? Stop them? Not only do I not care enough to try, but even if I did, they'd kill me for breaking the Dragon Code. I personally don't give a damn about the Dragon Code. I'm not like them, if you haven't noticed."

"No, I've noticed. For you callin' them yer 'brothers', y'all sure don't have shit in common."

"Because we're not actually siblings. We come from completely different parents."

"Then why the hell do you--"

Storm lifts her finger, silencing him. "... We're not siblings in the traditional way ponies, and I guess you humans, think. We were nesting siblings, which means we were laid and hatched in the same brooding cycle. Parents don't matter, the time of hatch does. We all break out of our eggs at the same time, and the first thing we see is each other. Nothing forces us to stay together, but we usually do. Dragons form tight-knit groups for survival. We avoid larger clusters of other dragons if we can help it."

"Hmn. Definitely a unique culture, I'll give it that. What kind of dragons were yer brothers? The one I fought was real big and mean."

"They're what you call traditional dragons. All of my brothers were, and they were all fire elementals. Most dragons are like him, big, strong, and tied to some sort of element. There are dragons much bigger than him too, he wasn't even close to the biggest."

"Good thing I ain't had a run-in with them then. 'N what about you? You ain't nothin' like they are. You don't got fire and don't walk on four legs, you walk like a man does."

"A 'man'?" she repeats incredulously, raising her browline.

"A human. Man, human, they're interchangeable. No disrespect intended."

Storm smiles, making it obvious that she was never really upset. "I'm what you call a sleek-scale, and I'm an electric elemental."

"A sleek-scale, huh. ... Guess it fits yer appearance. Sleek 'n scaly."

"Yup. We're a type of dragon that comes from a really weird lineage."

"I fancy weird things," Crimson smiles slightly. "Tell me about it."

"It's not really that interesting, and I wasn't alive back then. Everything I know about it was just told to me."

"Nonetheless."

"Why do you care so much?"

"'Cuz you're real interestin' to me."

"A real flatterer, aren't you?" she smiles coyly. "Alright, I'll tell you, since you're that interested. The tale goes, dragonkind was fighting some war that happened centuries ago. A lot of it was ambush tactics and recon, so not a whole lot of front-line fighting was happening. Front-line battle is where dragons do the best, we usually win those fights. But far more often, it wasn't direct attacks. Dragons got picked off by random ambushes. After too many casualties, dragons realized that raw strength wasn't the key to winning this war, it was information. We needed infiltrators and scouts, and all around more discrete mobility. You can probably guess the big dragons with the huge wings weren't gonna cut it. For generations, specific dragons had sex with each other so they can breed certain children. These children would decrease in genetic size as they kept going. The smaller they got, the faster and sneakier they got. ... Though, uh, I'm not entirely sure what happened along the line, but as they got smaller, their bodies started changing too. Maybe it was a genetic mutation that they decided to roll with... intentional or not."

"That's a mess of effort to go through just to win a war, and it must'a gone on for a real long time. The hell were y'all going up against?"

"Changelings. They invaded the Dragonlands in their self-righteous quest for expanding their hive. They're not hard to kill, but they're a problem when there's a billion of them disguised as rocks right next to you, waiting for you to turn your back."

Crimson is visibly confused by her answer.

"... Changelings? You know, the bug things with the wings and the holes? All black? Can transform into literally anything?"

"Never heard of 'em, but hot damn, they can transform? Like shape-shift? ... That means they can make themselves into a dragon."

"Yup! But what they CAN'T do is survive in magma, regardless of impersonating a dragon! Every day, the dragons would be forced to 'cleanse' themselves by stepping into a pit of magma to prove that they weren't a changeling in disguise. Sometimes I wish I could have been there, this tactic caught so many changelings! The ones that refused to get in were mauled on the spot, and the ones stupid enough to actually go in melted and popped like gross little blisters~"

Crimson's expression wrinkles in mild distaste, but he skips over her brutal imagery. "So you're the product of a war-time strategy."

"Uh-huh. Pretty cool right? I personally like being me. I don't see a need for being as tall as a pony building. Plus, walking on two legs is more useful than four."

"As a bipedal myself, can't argue with that. But that don't mean being on four legs don't have its purpose."

"Yyyeah, but... it's definitely not for me. Getting down on all fours is super uncomfortable. Trust me, I've tried it."

"That's to be expected. You've got a similar structure to us. You kinda remind me of a woman."

"A woman? Pfft, if you're trying to offend me, trust me, it isn't working."

"No-- it," Crimson sighs, "it's an observation, Storm. I ain't tryin' to offend anyone."

"Haha, you sure are easy to tease~"

"... Yeah, I bet it's easy to tease a man who's tryin' to be serious." He rubs his forehead in annoyance. "You come up with anythin' yet?"

"To trade for?"

"What else?"

"Mmm..." she begins to 'ponder'.

"Storm. Seriously."

"Whaaat? I'm thinking!"

"No yer fuckin' not."

"I'm not right now because you keep talking. ... Hmmm... mmm..." she taps the bottom of her chin, "... Oh! Hey, do you wanna get in now?" she points down at the pool water again.

Crimson's listless expression eyes at her cheeky grin. She holds her pointing posture and smile as he scowls.

"Water's still waaaarm~"

"Why do you want me to get in so badly?"

"I like the company~"

"It'd be great if you were serious for at least a minute."

"I am being serious! I seriously asked you if you wanna get in! Come on, hop in with me!"

"What happens if I don't?"

"Then..." she smiles, "it'll probably take longer for me to make up my mind."

"So if I get in, you'll finally tell me what you want?"

"... Maaybe."

"Only a maybe, huh. You're really not lookin' to make this easy fer me. ... Well, unfortunately for the both of us, I didn't bring a change'a swimmin' trunks."

"'Swimmin' trunks?'" she mocks lightly.

"Clothes. I didn't bring spare clothes. Wasn't expectin' to get wet today."

"That reminds me! Why do you even need to wear clothes? Even the humans in Equestria don't."

"Because they're too stupid to make 'em or put 'em on. I reckon they hole up and freeze half to death in the winter. We don't have fur or scales, so clothes keep us warm and shield us from the elements."

"So I get that, but why do you need clothes to get wet? I just said it's warm, you have nothing to worry about."

"We also wear clothes to hide our private sectors."

"Ppft," Storm raises her shoulders in giddy amusement. "What did you say? 'Private sectors?' Is that what you're worried about? You are a lot more self-conscious than I thought you were, Crim~"

"I do it fer the courtesy of others. I ain't ashamed of the human form, but I'm sure walkin' free-willy ain't the most pleasant thing to see."

"All I hear is excuses," she grins cockily.

"You must be deaf then."

"That means even a deaf dragon can hear through your insecurities."

"..." Crimson's left brow raises.

"Hoo, didn't like that, did ya'?"

"... So you said, if I get in the water, you'll maybe come up with somethin' to trade for?"

"I do remember saying that, yeah," she grins coyly.

Crimson stands up and takes a few steps back from the pool. Storm's impish eyes watch him as he steps back out of his sandals and reaches down for his cargo shorts. He unbuttons them and lets them slide down his legs, crumpling up at his ankles.

Storm's eyes beam instantly upon his... private sector.

Crimson strides with a high chin towards the pool, crouching down and sinking himself into the water. She was right, it's warm and pleasant. It almost feels as if this water is gently vibrating, doing wonders to relax his achy body. He sits down on the floor of the pool, deep enough for his chest to submerge, and he extends his legs forward, feet brushing against the inside of Storm's thighs. There isn't much space for his legs to work with, but Storm doesn't seem to mind the contact.

He exhales deeply and closes his eyes in relief. He should have listened to her earlier, this water, be it some form of magic, is exactly the repose his body demanded. So much so, it takes a moment for his mental processes to boot back up again. "... Water's great. You were right."

"Right?" She exclaims with both pride and glee.

"Yeah. Now, business."

The man's lax front sharps along with the question. Storm looks far from impressed. "Hmm... business~" Suddenly, her thighs come together on his legs, capturing his feet between their sleek plumpness. She giggles as her slitted eyes stare at him with an energy that describes primal instinct. "I think I might know what I want to trade~"

Crimson's brows furrow. Somehow he knew that it would eventually lead up to this. No, he always knew it would lead up to this. In one swift motion, his legs retract back as his torso does. He scrunches up into a ball and presses his back firm against the wall of the pool. Storm grits her teeth with distaste, reaching over to pull them back between her legs.

"What gives?" Storm scowls.

"I could ask you the same thing," the man replies nonchalantly.

"Do I gotta spell it out for you? Come on! You're being a total turn off."

"Spit it out."

Storm slams her palm into her face for a scaly facepalm. She huffs in agitation before proceeding, "That little blue pony with the glasses can have that necklace. But I want you in return. Simple, right?"

"You're not fuckin' serious."

"I mean, it's only fair right? Her magical angel human for my ancient powerful necklace?"

"I get bein' enticed with a fling, but you wanna own me? Storm, you best realize I ain't anyone's property. I ain't like the humans from here."

"Aww, really?~" her voice is completely sarcastic, accompanied by a devious grin.

"Yeah. Really. Moonlight doesn't own me. We're friends. As in, I'm not up fer trade."

Storm's hands travel to the confined feet between her thighs, and she begins to gently run her claws in between his toes. Crimson looks far from amused, rather judgmental in his squint. "... Just friends?" she murmurs with her sly smile.

"Yeah. Friends. No owner, no pet. I'm my own man, 'n I'm keepin' it that way."

"That's a shame~" Storm's lewd stare only strengthens. "I guess your pony friend won't be getting her necklace any time soon~"

"... I think she will."

"Ho? And how are you gonna do that? Steal it from me? ... If you are, it's right over there on the table. You saw it when you walked in, didn't you? Nothing's stopping you from..." she leans forward and crawls along the length of the pool, "... taking it." She ends up invading his personal space and looms over him with voracious intent.

Crimson analyzes her lubricious demeanor. Her smile, the tone of her voice, she doesn't look like she's threatening him. In fact, it looks like the complete opposite. The glimmer in her eyes cares not for the necklace, but for... something else. The same something that she has been aiming for since the beginning. While there are many alternatives he'd prefer to take, he comes to the conclusion that this might be the only thing she wants for it. There is plenty of nice and shiny things on that stone table of hers, it comes as no surprise she doesn't want any more physical treasures. Though he doesn't want to alienate her, especially not when he's almost at his objective, but his pride forces him to ask, "Is there... anythin' else you'd want fer the necklace? That ain't me?"

"Nope~" she giggles.

Of course. "Right, well... I ain't gonna appropriate yer belongings, but I ain't givin' myself to you. Now, you've made yer barter, but here's my proposition,..." is what he says before he allows a lengthy silence to lodge itself between them. Ten seconds pass before he continues. Storm flattens and grimaces venomously. "'Stead, I present to you a different offer."

"... Yeah?"

"You'll have one favor of any kind from yours truly. No harmin', killin', stealin' from innocent folk. And none of what you tried just now. Otherwise consider it done. One favor."

"No deal."

Crimson knew she would decline. Initially. "C'mon. Outside them parameters, anythin'. ... I noticed yer eyes glued to that there beeper Moonlight had. It finds treasure. Reckoned somethin' like that would be... useful. Wouldn't it?"

To this, Storm locks eyes with him again with obvious intrigue.

"Remember yer brother's gone now. From what I gather, he's the one that does the sniffin' fer these things. You've got a whole country full of treasure but ain't got the means to find it."

"I'll find it," Storm grunts.

"Maybe. Be easier with the beeper, wouldn't it? Mull that thought. You give me one small necklace in exchange for endless potential treasure. You'd get more in the long run."

"More treasure, huh... hm. I've been meaning to fill that empty space on the right side of the table with some stuff for a while. Sure is empty there."

"Reckon in no time you'd pack the entire table till it bends."

Storm seems to be contemplating this offer deeply. Unlike her previous 'thinking' gesture, this one seems quite genuine. Her pupils dilate again and again from slits to ovals, ovals to circles. "How soon can you get me one of those things?"

"Moonlight'd need to make you one, so it'd take a minute. Ease yer heart in knowin' she's gonna craft you quality."

Storm presses her back and wings against the pool wall, taking a claw to her lower mandible. She thinks on his words for a handful of seconds. "... Alright." She grins at him and smirks. "Deal. I should say 'fuck you, go away' for rejecting me, but... I do like me my treasure~"

Crimson smiles in great satisfaction. "That you do."

"But!"

His smile loses its strength.

"I get the device, then you get your necklace."

Crimson's front becomes bored. "Storm, we need that necklace now so our little one can get to pokin' it. Like I said, it'd take a minute for the beeper to be done."

"Then how in tartarus would she find time to make it if she's toying with the necklace?"

"You ain't a reason to believe me when I say this, but she's one hellu'va multi-tasker. She can definitely get your tech out the gate while gettin' her other chores done."

"You're right, I don't believe it. No deal if I don't get the thingy first."

"Storm, it--"

"I said no deal!" She barks before crossing her arms and looking away, closing her eyes in a dismissive matter.

Crimson grits his teeth. He knows full well he won't be able to get Moonlight to make an A.N.A in the timeframe they need to study the relic. While he tries to find some other tempting point to offer Storm, she has effectively stonewalled him off from any further persuasion...

... except...

"Then... how 'bout this... I take the relic, Moonlight gets yer beeper made while workin' her do's..." Storm tightens her arms around her chest, "... and she'll get it to you within two weeks. If we can't get it to you in that time..." She opens one eye to glance at him, "... I'll be yer trophy piece... fer ONE day..."

"DEAL!" she blurts while nearly tackling him. Gleaming hearts pulse in her eyes as she rests her chin on his chest. "Two weeks! That's all the time I'm giving you. Not a second more, not one less. You better hope your little friend can get me my treasure finder, or else~"

"Yeah. Two weeks," Crimson echoes while keeping himself completely motionless. Her shallow sky-blue eyes drill their desire with no reprieve.

"Time starts after you leave today. Judging by how curious you are about me, I'm sure you have a lot more questions. You wanna stay a little longer and... keep chatting?~"

Crimson's face scrunches in discomfort. Her right claw begins to slowly run up and down his neck, a menacing giggle comes from her grinning mouth. He hopes for his own sake he can actually do what he just promised he could.

"Don't hate me, Moonlight..."

Act 6: Fitted for Deployment

~ Canterlot Castle, Moonlight's Room ~<
February 5th, Thursday, 7:05

‎

Sunshine beams onto her eyelids, turning her previously blackened world a red glare. The muffled sounds of birds chirping outside of her windows are nature's wake-up call, announcing to the resting that another morning has arrived. As Moonlight's senses return from slumber, so do her thoughts. Immediately, she thinks about yesterday, the first encounter she has had with her colleagues in years.

"... Hmmh," she moans in a mixture of distaste and morning exhaustion, rolling onto her back while she pries open her eyes. She stares at the extremely blurry ceiling, bothering not to get her glasses on just yet.

She lingers on yesterday's events. Nothing went according to how she had planned it in her head. Ever since she returned to Canterlot, she expected to be berated, scolded, and even demoted from her position because of her unannounced leave... but it has all been the opposite. Celestia's open-armed affection was already enough to burden her heart with remorse, and yesterday did nothing to help. When she arrived at the research labs, head lowered and lips puckered, she encountered Swirl in her lab. Instead of being ignored or demeaned, she was instead welcomed, given a rather soft reception from such a stoic mare. A small pleasant exchange of 'how are yous' and a brief catch-up on current events is all that Swirl thought to give.

After the small talk, her mission was completed. She gave Swirl the mini-ANA and gave a concise explanation on its function, and the only thing left to do was leave... but a certain stallion, hearing the gentle murmurs of a familiar timid voice, poked his head out just before she could leave. It's... not that she didn't want to talk to him, she just wouldn't know what to say. She couldn't know what to say.

But he did, and it made her heart heavy. Not only was Magnifying Glass overly-excited to see her, he was being so sweet and complimenting. "Wow, Moonlight! You... You look amazing! You-You only get prettier as time goes on!" "It's so great to see you again, I-- uh, um-- we! We've missed you!" "I can't wait to work with-with you again!" It was pure affection coming from his mouth. Moonlight didn't understand. How could somepony be denied their feelings and still be this... forgiving? Attached? Especially after all of this time. It's like he doesn't even remember the past... or perhaps, he chooses not to.

Even now as Moonlight lies in her bed, holding Soap against her chest, she can't fathom why everyone is being so kind to her. She felt that the last pony deserving of being treated so honorably is her.

It was painstakingly awkward when she had to dismiss herself from them. She had no excuse why she couldn't stay in the labs and get right to work... but fortunately, they didn't ask. They only asked if she would be back. For better or for worse, she said she would.

Knock, knock, knock.

Moonlight quickly sits up and turns, using her magic to levitate her glasses from the nightstand to her muzzle. She adjusts them with her right hoof, still holding her plushy with her left. She scoots along the bed towards the headrest and peers down from the balcony rail towards the door, cautious as to who or what might come through.

The door opens, and in steps a burly lumbering man with scraggled red hair. Moonlight's expression is quick to beam happily. Crimson scans the area for a bit before he realizes she's upstairs. "Mornin', Moonlight," he hails to her from below, having his voice echo through the vast room. With a gleeful smile, Moonlight waves to him in reply. Crimson strides towards the staircase and takes it up, rising to the second floor to meet her at the edge of her bed. She sets down Soap and opens her arms, her smile turned to shyness.

Crimson obliges quickly, he reaches down and picks her up into a hug. She buries her cheek against his chest, almost knocking her own glasses off of her face. While Crimson does not comment on it vocally, he finds it pleasant how quick she was to ask for his embrace. He finds that she is terribly shy for many things, but this is becoming an exception. That is good, he thinks. It might mean she is getting truly comfortable with him. Hopefully this is the first stage of breaking her out of her timid shell.

Crimson sets her down after a few seconds, once he thinks they are both satisfied.

Moonlight is the first to speak up. "Good m-morning, Crimson. I, um... I was worried for you..."

"Worried? How come, girly?"

"W-Well, you left early in the morning yesterday, and I-- um..." She trails off, visibly redirecting her mental track. "Y-You were gone all day..."

"Yeah. I was. That dragon lady sure didn't lack on things to talk about. She sorta held me there until she felt like goin' to sleep."

"Mm... I see."

Crimson reaches for his left pocket, drawing Moonlight's eyes to follow. "It might have costed me the entire afternoon, but... feast yer eyes on this." He presents the necklace in the palm of his hand, the thumbnail-sized amethyst rhombus. It still hums its ethereal song, reverberating softly with exotic magical energy.

Moonlight's eyes shimmer as they widen, along with a gasp of disbelief. "The... the necklace. You have it!" She gazes up at him and smiles ecstatically.

"Sure do, 'n it's all yers."

"How? How did you manage to get it from her?"

"Well, you see... uh... she kinda... kinda wants a mini-ANA of her own."

"... AMiniAna?" she quickly repeats with a tiny mouth.

Crimson waves quickly to try and ease her, "Now, now, not quite the one you just spent an entire day makin'. She..." he pauses to breath and get his words out. "She wants a treasure huntin' device. Somethin' that'll scan things 'n get her to 'em. She wants more stuff. A thing to find her more stuff. It was the only idea I could get her to want."

Moonlight bites her left lower-lip in contemplation. "... A treasure hunting device? I've never tired to make something of the sort. ... Maybe I... could?"

"Please do, Moonlight. I, eh... kinda told her you'd get it to her in two weeks."

She reels suddenly. "Two weeks!?"

"I know, I know! It's a tall order, but... please, for the relic's sake, you need to get it to her."

Moonlight seems extremely displeased with this turn of events. Her eyes wander to different things as her track of thought travels. Eventually, it lands on the necklace still in the man's hand. Her eyes glitter again at its sight despite the ongoing tension.

Crimson snickers as he holds the necklace out for her, which she takes into her aura. Her pink orbs admire its small, simple design, but are also wary of what kind of arcane properties it might possess.

Crimson places his hands at his hips, smiling down at the adorably studious unicorn. The amount of attention and interest she's giving to it, holding it centimetres from her glasses, there's something innocent about it, like a toddler who just found a new toy and is giving it a look-down.

They spend a moment together in silence. Crimson hardly realizes that he's plastering his eyes on her, until he finally does. He shakes his head, looks away, then returns to her again. She's still entranced by the magical artifact finally in her possession. As he thinks of something to deflect his prolonged staring to, it strikes him that yesterday was the first day she met back up with her colleagues. "Say, Moonlight. How'd it go with yer researcher peers yesterday?"

"Mm? ... Oh!" her awed state disperses, taking up hesitation. "It, was... um... good actually..."

"That's good to hear? ... Why'd you make it sound like a bad thing?"

"Because. It is. It wasn't supposed to go well."

"We both know I can't work with that, Moonlight. There's a why to it that you're holdin' back."

"... Because I left them."

"This again?"

"Yes, Crimson! Of course this again! It's hard for me to understand it. I left everypony behind for nearly a decade, all because of a... a dumb personal issue I had! It was no excuse for me to leave my team, especially as the head of their department."

"It wasn't dumb, Moonlight. Somethin' that was dumb wouldn't have wrecked so much hell on yer life. What you did, movin' away from here to give yerself some space, it wasn't somethin' you wanted. It was somethin' you needed."

"... Wait, do you..." her eyes shift across his face, "... do you know what happened?"

He nods, gazing at her softly. "Celestia let me in on it. I didn't mean to pry, but..." Moonlight becomes visibly conflicted at this revelation. There are more than enough clues present on her that hint she doesn't want to talk about it. "I'm sorry fer pokin' too deep."

"No-no, I'm not... I'm not upset that Celestia told you. It... saves me the trouble. I've been wanting to tell you because you've been so nice to me, but... well..."

"Then there's somethin' else that's wrong."

"It's... I..." Her trembling orbs meet his, doing their best to repress oncoming emotions. "... Please don't look at me differently for what I did."

Crimson's brows line the top of his eyes. Celestia was right. "What you did? Moonlight, do you even realize that everythin' that happened to you... wasn't yer fault?"

"How couldn't it have been? If I wasn't so... so ignorant! Everything would have been better. He said he wanted a family, but I-- I was--"

"Assertin' yer position on a matter that pertained to you."

"'Asserting.' ... More like stupid little Moonlight was being too stubborn. I know I was the reason it ended terribly. If I had been a better marefriend, if I was just... a better pony, things would have turned out okay."

Crimson shakes his head and sighs, "No, Moonlight, no. C'mon, now. You're not givin' yerself any credit. I wasn't there when the whole show went down, but I see you now. I compare it to what Celestia told me, the younger you from back then. You're too sweet fer yer own good. You take the blame fer what others did to you. That ain't right. You need to learn to give yourself the credit you deserve. Without any self-worth, bastards always get their way." Crimson sits down on the edge of the bed next to her, gazing down at her as she focuses her stare towards the ground. "... I know what I'm sayin' is easier said than done, but it's a process. It takes patience. Kinda like them experiments you do. You don't just jump right into the mixin' and the pourin', do you? You take measurements. You get it all ripe before you dig in. Take that process into yerself. Measure what you like, what you know, and what you want. Hold onto it, 'n never let it go. Comin' from a guy my sister dubbed 'stubborn as a rock', a healthy dose of stubborn is what dreams are made of. Don't let life's bastards slow yer roll."

Moonlight's eyes briefly shift to the right, closer to Crimson, then return to the ground where she was staring. A small smile forms on her lips. "... You sound a lot like Celestia."

"Heh. I'm sure she's miles more eloquent with her words than I am with mine."

"Maybe a little... but both of you are great at making me feel better. Maybe one day I'll be as good with words as you two are..."

"But you are good with words! You landed a prestigious job from yer ability to write and report, didn't you?"

"... I did," she meekly replies, "but they're not the same type of words needed for... social discourse..."

Crimson chuckles, "There ain't no specific language you gotta use fer talkin' to someone. Own your words, take 'em with confidence. The same confidence you use when you give a crowd a speech. Apply that same assurance to yerself, learn to love who you are, 'n you'll be on yer way to a better you sooner than you might think. Plus, you got me to help you along yer way. No one's perfect, not me, not Celestia. You'll stumble 'n fall along yer way, but always know I'mma be there to help you back up. You can count on that."

Moonlight finally lifts her head to stare at him, keeping her tiny smile. She reaches in and hugs his arm, nestling her head on his shoulder. He remains still, she looks comfortable resting on him like that. But his mouth doesn't keep still, it curls into a satisfied smile.

Knock-knock-knock-knock!

Out comes a rather bodacious pounding on Moonlight's front door, interrupting the moment as both of them redirect their attention. Moonlight's visible confusion is brought on by the large clock above the door, there's still about half an hour left before the maidmare should be knocking for breakfast. "Who could that be?" she asks with mild concern.

"I'll get it," Crimson offers.

"I-I'll get it with you," she replies quickly and looks up at him.

He gazes back at Moonlight, studying her sudden jumpiness... and he gets it. He knows that face, the one currently on her. It matters not that it's on the soft, adorable face of a pony, he's seen it many times on his sister. A face that says she's worried he might not be around again. He was only gone for a day, but a day too long for her.

Crimson doesn't want to let this concern him, he's sure Moonlight can adapt if he's not constantly around her.

Still, he doesn't plan on running off, so he smiles and nods. He helps Moonlight off of her bed and starts towards the staircase, coming down with her just behind him. They stand before the door, Crimson reaches for the handle and opens it. On the other side, a tan-coated mare with golden armor stands. She looks serious, just as all guardponies do.

Her eyes briefly shift to Moonlight, then back to him, then back to Moonlight. The stern face on the guard drops for a mountain of surprise. "Head Researcher Wish?" Moonlight's muzzle scrunches and she nods with embarrassment. "It's... it's an honor." Moonlight nods again, lacking any words to reply with.

"Howdy there," Crimson intervenes quickly, directing the guard's eyes to him. "What can I do fer you?"

The guard turns her attention to him, her serious face sitting itself again. "Greetings, my angel. By Celestia's decree, you are instructed to report for your first deployment."

"Deployment?"

"The Elite will soon be setting off on an operation. More details on said operation will be delivered by the Captain herself."

"Oh," Crimson mutters in realization. "... Yeah. Alright."

"Wuh?" Moonlight asks with a hint of desperation. "Y-You just came back, a-and you were gone all day yesterday."

He sighs deeply, speaking while he's exhaling, "Yeah, I know. But we both knew I agreed to this, remember? It had to happen sometime. Reckon that time is now."

"But-but..." Moonlight puckers her mouth and her cheeks tint with a combination of frustration and grief.

Crimson crouches down and places his hand on the back of her head, waiting for her to look at him. Once she does, he comforts her with a fatherly smile, "Remember what I told you. First thing I'll do when I get back is visit. I don't fall back on my promises. Besides, I reckon you'll hardly have time fer me now that you've got that necklace and treasure-finder to worry about. I'm sure by the time I'm back you'll have all of it figured out."

As he talks, Moonlight runs her eyes on his chest, jumping between the many scars on it, then the gash on his right cheek, and his dark, exhausted eyes. She wants to believe he'll be safe...

Crimson rises to his feet and looks back towards the stoic guard. He nods to her, and the guard turns around to take the lead. Crimson follows behind her and glances back to Moonlight, seeing that she remains in place, expression turned with melancholy. He then fixes his eyes forward and exhales through his nose. The guilt of leaving never gets any easier.

Moonlight's ears drop to her head and retreats into her room.

‎

~~~<

‎

Crimson glances around the halls he walks, keeping behind this quiet guard. He's too busy getting looks from all sorts of ponies around the Castle to ask the guard if she's just playing a role and isn't actually this serious personally.

With a quick survey of those around, it's obvious that word had spread. These ponies don't even try to make it discrete. With whispers like, "There he is! The golden angel!" he knows he's in for some publicity whether he likes it or not.

When he was up on the mountain yesterday, the descent was something he had not planned out very well. He had spent more time than he realized with Fate and Storm, turning the dawn to dusk without a trace. Getting sent up the mountain by Fate was easy enough, but getting back down was not as simple. The cold, hard rocky mountain offered no clear path to descend, so the only option he had was to leap off the peak and fly down using his Arch, which in itself, isn't a problem... it was all of the attention he grabbed doing it. He is pretty sure no one saw where he came from, the only thing the Canterlot nightwatch, or city denizens strolling under the moon, could have seen was a golden shooting star appear above the city and fly towards the Castle.

He does his best to ignore the onlookers, just as he has done before. Only this time, they're directly calling to him and are trying to approach him.

"My angel!" a mare shouts indiscriminately.

"Where are you going? What are you doing? Can I come with you?" a stallion trotting a little too close yammers.

"Could I get an interview!?" another mare behind the pack cries.

"My daughter wants to meet you!" yet another mare yells loudly.

Soon, their voices begin to drown each other out. The only voice of prominence is the guard's when she shouts and stomps her golden boot, "MAKE WAY!" She begins to scowl away the ponies trying to move onto Crimson, making the crowd disband well enough, but they hardly vacate. It takes more guards needing to leave their posts and assume crowd control for the congestion to ease up and allow Crimson to proceed.

At last, it's only the guard and Crimson again, the mob of voices is lost to another section of the castle. Now that he's focusing on his surroundings again, he quickly notices that this isn't the path towards the back field. Instead, they're heading towards the second floor of the Castle at the West tower. It prompts him to ask, "We're not headed towards the field, are we?"

"Negative," she responds quickly. "You are being escorted to the Royal Tailor. Celestia has not deemed you properly fitted for deployment. The tailor will ensure that you are."

"The tailor's gonna make clothes fer me? Free of charge?"

"Correct."

Crimson raises his brows. He sits well with the idea of finally getting something to wear that isn't grimy, torn up cargo shorts and thrifty sandals.

Soon enough, the two arrive at the tailor's. Like most rooms in the Castle, the tailor's office is vast, acting as both an office and an entire runway studio. Pony mannequins are scattered about, wearing all sorts of fancy, well put-together ensembles. Assistant workers are seated in desks with their cumbersome early-model sewing machines. They are working tirelessly on their creations, some from their creativity, others on Castle uniforms of different kinds.

The Royal Tailor herself is behind a desk, a teal and pink-maned earth pony wearing strangely 'fashionable' shades and attire. The guard approaches her, seeing that she’s holding a pencil in her mouth, scribbling on a piece of paper.

“Royal Tailor," the guard calls.

“Shh!” the tailor hisses with the pencil in between her teeth.

The guard mare squints in annoyance while the tailor sketches for a few seconds longer.

The tailor sets down the pencil and smiles widely. “Yes. Yeees. Yeeees! It is wandaful!” she raises her sketch into the air using both her hooves. She then plasters the paper onto the guard's face, “A work of art!” She retracts the paper, setting it back down and admiring it. “It will be byuteful.” Suddenly, she takes off her cyan-tinted shades and stares fiercely at the guard with her bright green eyes. “Why do you disturb Glitter Frock,” she rumbles with zero emotion.

With a squint, the guard retorts, “Celestia has ordered that the angel be fitted with new—”

As the guard is speaking, Glitter looks over to see Crimson standing there quietly at the entrance. “DA HYUMAN!” she suddenly shouts, interrupting the guard. The assistants stop their work to look over with wide eyes.

“Howdy,” Crimson raises his right hand.

Glitter gasps. At first, Crimson assumes it was because he spoke, but... “Dose shorts... dose sandals... they are atrocious!” She springs up from her desk with a tape-measure in her mouth, swiftly moving to Crimson, tugging him around as she takes his measurements. Crimson stands there, letting it happen with only mild dissatisfaction.

Glitter leaps up and latches herself to his shoulders, pulling him down to meet each other nose-to-muzzle. “Hyuman. Speak. Speak da words. Speak your deeepest desiiires~” she whispers, nearly planting her lips on his and breathing a scent of mint onto his face.

“Mm. I actually do have somethin’ in mind for clothes."

"Royal Tailor," the guard demands her attention. Glitter lifts her shades and eyes the guard angrily. "You are instructed to develop a uniform suited for weather conditions and dangerous engagements. You are not permitted to--"

As the guard speaks, Glitter lets her shades fall back down, turning to face Crimson again. She reaches for his cheeks and squeezes them. "She undastands not of da creative genius one may hold. Giff to me yor desire, and we shall see it through."

“Sure. You got a paper and somethin’ I can write with?”

One of Glitter’s assistance practically teleports to him, handing him a wooden pencil and a piece of parchment. Glitter lets go of him, allowing him to take his writing apparatuses, and he walks over to Glitter’s desk. Placing the parchment down and blowing on the tip of the pencil, he begins to sketch.

Ignored for a second time, the guard rolls her eyes and mutters curses to herself. She stomps towards the door and waits in the position of attention, shifting her eyes left and right in case anyone might have heard her profanities.

Glitter and her assistants hover over Crimson as they watch him scribble lines, forming the rough concept of the clothes he wants. Their eyes progressively widen as he draws.

"There," he states as he sets the pencil down. "Think y'all can handle that?"

Glitter stares at the sketch very, VERY seriously. "It WILL be done."

‎

~~<

‎ ‎

With exactly forty-nine minutes of restless production, Crimson stands in front of every tailor in the room with Glitter front and center. He shrugs his shoulders. He walks in a circle then raises his arms to his sides, looking down at the Royal Tailor with a smile.

He wears a grey shirt tucked into grey slacks, a brown leather belt firmly around his waist, black boots, and a dark-brown, color-faded duster that reaches down to the end of his calves. The duster was weaved with a magical fiber that absorbs and evenly distributes impact, making direct strikes less forceful and giving it a very dim glow.

“You gals... and guy,” Crimson quickly looks at the one stallion in the room, “did an outstandin’ job on this. True genius.”

Glitter scrutinizes as she trots in circles around him. “So dull... so working-class... so utilitarian. It’s perfect! Rugged, simple, yet attractive! A combanashion I neva thought possible! Hyuman, you personally sent fashion fouah decades back! ... Da fall line. I have inspiration. Regal. Utility! Da maids in Canterlot Castle were overdue for a uniform change!”

Crimson strides around, feeling right at home in his new clothes. “I love it so much I could kiss every one of you." He grins, staring at his duster sleeve with great satisfaction.

The tailor ponies, like a perfectly choreographed dance, line up on Crimson. The first mare leaps up and pulls his head down by his duster collar, and they each give him a peck on the cheek one after the other. Glitter, the last pony in the stride, hops up onto her hindlegs and grasps Crimson’s face with authority, bringing him in for a strangely passionate kiss on the lips. She breaks it as suddenly as she started it, popping her lips off of his and falling back down to her fours before announcing into the open air, “Not COULD! But DID! Live by dez words! Now. We resume our vork!” she cries, rushing back to her desk.

With a mildly annoyed wipe of his mouth to clean a trickle of her saliva off, Crimson looks at all of the ponies dash back to their stations and restart their flow. It is as if he was not even here now. They're so engrossed in their weaving and tailoring, he is but a ghost to them. He watches them for a moment, admiring their dedication to their craft. He certainly thinks they're all miles off their rocker, but he chalks it up to everyone being a little weird in this world.

With a quick huff of a breath, he turns around and walks back towards the guardmare, who looks at him with her serious eyes. "Welp. Least they did a good job, didn't they?" he asks, opening his arms in presentation.

"The Captain will not be happy about your uniform."

"I think she will. Meets all the requirements, don't it? Good for weather? 'Violent engagement'?" he mimics while air-quoting with his fingers.

The guard rolls her eyes and takes the lead again. They trek across the Castle, immediately heading to the lower floors with the fields as their destination. As they walk along the marble floors, the dull clack of sandals is now replaced by the finer step of sturdy cowboy boots. He rarely planted steps on perfectly smooth surfaces like Canterlot's floor during his time back home, usually walking on dirt or wood, but he already enjoys this sensation infinitely more than any other footwear could ever provide. He slips his hands into his duster pockets, wondering if they feel similar to his old one. To no surprise, it doesn't. This duster feels a lot softer and less friction-heavy, which is something he doesn't personally enjoy. But, nothing a few adventures in Equestria couldn't solve. He'll probably get his new get-up drabbed up pretty soon.

The guard leads him out into the fields. The sun is still hidden behind the massive Canterlot mountain, giving the world a tired, blue-morning hue. He sees and hears the routines of the guards, the constant shouting of cadence, numbers, and grunts of exertion. He catches many curious and friendly eyes, but they're much more respectful than a certain previous crowd.

The guard leading him approaches a small squad standing near a tree, the same tree he rested himself on during his first visit here. The idling squad consists of four ponies wearing silver armor and one pony in a Scribe robe, each one of them a familiar face: Bulletpoint, Strix, Swirl, Banter, and Snowfall. They are standing next to three metal containers, where Bulletpoint holds a clipboard and takes inventory.

Crimson and the guard stop before the team, drawing all of their eyes. Captain Snowfall turns her bored gaze towards the gold-armored mare and nods once. The mare salutes and dismisses herself, leaving only the lumbering man. Both Banter and Swirl are quick to shift from a resting expression to a bothered one.

"Hey there, new-blood," Snowfall smiles slightly. "I see the tailors had a good time with you. Not bad."

"Appreciate that," Crimson nods, "but the credit really goes to the tailors. Damn good at their job." He glances towards Swirl, a little amused at her presence. "Didn't know you were apart of the Elite, miss Swirl."

"I'm going to kill whoever told you my name," she scowls.

"You wouldn't, like... kill your own sister, would you, Swirly?~" Strix comments breezily.

"More than tempted," she growls before she returns her squinted stare to Crimson. "I am the Elite's field mage. Your uniform fails all aspects of any Royal Canterlot uniform. This leads me to believe either the tailors are incapable of basic instructions, or you somehow coaxed them to disobey."

"Yeah, seriously." Banter points to Crimson accusingly, "Captain, you're seeing this, right? There's no way in Equestria he's coming with us looking like that."

"While I did give the tailors instructions, they were just that: instructions. Not orders. Remember, Banter, he's not officially enlisted in the Guard. Our regulations aren't his regulations. He's free to go naked if he really wanted to."

"Please do not put that imagery in my head, captain," Swirl scrunches.

Snowfall redirects to Crimson, "I'm good to assume you're already familiar with everypony here. They all seem to know who you are already."

Bulletpoint chuckles, "At this point, cap'n, who don't?"

"Mostly familiar with Bubblegum there 'n B.P," Crimson affirms, "but I've met everyone here before."

Swirl's brows furrow, briefly jumping to her sister when he refers to her as 'Bubblegum.'

"Somethin' the matter, Swirl?" Crimson asks with at least some earnest intention.

"You know what you are doing. You are taking upon yourself to indirectly mock me by now referring to my sister by that childish nickname."

"C'mon now, Swirl, I'd never do somethin' like that. You two look real alike, 'n since you hate the nick, I gave it to Strix. ... You ain't gettin' jealous now, are you?"

Bulletpoint's eyes dilate to grains of sand.

"Mmrrr, you--" Swirl's eyes beam with fire, but is quickly cut off by Snowfall.

"Knock it off you two. The point is, you're already ahead of the game with all of the meet and greet. That's great and all, but protocol dictates introductions, so let's get that out of the way."

"Alrighty then," Crimson acknowledges.

Snowfall begins walking in front of who she is presenting, pointing lazily at them when she speaks, "This is Second Lieutenant Bulletpoint, logistics, ranger, and recon. This is Staff Sergeant Strix Plum, infiltration, information specialist, and field medic. This is Scribe Swirly Cutie." Swirl's eyes dilate and she cringes horribly at the sound of her name being called out. Snowfall doesn't seem to care, but everyone else pretends to look away and mind their own business. "Like she said earlier, she's our field mage and second medic. And lastly--"

"And certainly not least," Banter cuts in.

"... First Lieutenant Banter, C.Q.C specialist and master-at-arms."

"I'd say more of a Grandmaster at Arms," he boredly looks at his hoof. The members of his team react tiredly to his boast.

"'N you?" Crimson asks Snowfall.

"Aside from shot-calling, I'm the team's secondary infiltration expert. So now you know who your team is and what they do. Any questions?"

"One. What'm I considered? I don't think I was ever specified a role."

"You're the replacement for our frontline. If a mission gets hot, you'll be responsible for dispatching threats. Technically we all will, but you'll be at the front with Banter."

"Somethin' happen to the old frontliner?"

"K.I.A. Funeral was held last month for the poor bastard. Was one of the best the Guard had. Off-topic. Anyway, now that that's out of the way, are we almost ready to head out, BP?"

"Yeh, 'ventory looks good. Only thing was missin' was our lad 'ere."

"If there are no questions or concerns," Snowfall glances between everyone, "let's get moving."

Bulletpoint and Strix move to pick up the metal containers, and the rest begin walking off together towards the farther end of the field. Crimson sees Bulletpoint taking up two crates onto his back, putting up some effort to get them situated. He reaches for the second container and carries it against his chest, offering to take it. Bulletpoint nods in appreciation.

The squad of six trek to an open platform at the far end of the field which rests a floppy mass of nylon material attached to a large hard-weaved basket. Crimson furrows his brows as they approach it. "... That a hot-air balloon?"

"That it is, mate," Bulletpoint replies. "You sound a skeptic."

"We're gonna use a hot-air balloon for... transport?"

"Yeh. Why?"

"Never really heard of usin' one'a these for actual transport. They're more like joyrides where I'm from. A train would be more efficient, wouldn't it?"

"It would," Snowfall starts, "if there were tracks actually laid out where we're headed. I'll get you up to speed once we get situated."

Crimson turns his attention to the pony who is tending to the balloon, an orange and tan-maned mare with freckles. She looks terribly out-of-place in this environment of proper uniforms and high-class attire, instead sporting denim overalls that are stained with oil and dirt. Maybe its the air she gives off, but he likes the look of this pony. She ignites the burner, slowly making the limp nylon acquire form.

Snowfall waits until the balloon is mostly filled, able to stand up on its own and safely allow entry into the basket. "Load up," she orders to the three carrying the boxes. They climb up the platform stairs and are given entry into the basket by the orange mare opening its door for them.

"Appreciate it," Crimson says to her.

"Ain't nothin' to it, partner," she replies with just the accent he expected her to have. Her polite and calm demeanor only adds to her charm. He isn't certain whether a part of him is starting to miss his home, but hearing her accent roll off like that gives him a sense of nostalgia. He's getting used to the straight-tongue and formal speak of Canterlot, but it certainly isn't his preference.

Now with the boxes set down on the basket, spaced out to distribute the weight, the rest of the squad boards the balloon. Even with six of them, they have quite a lot of space to move around. The basket is ample, allowing it to be of some comfort for long trails. Crimson glances around at everyone getting accommodated. Snowfall is exchanging some words with the orange mare, Strix and Swirl are getting comfortable, Bulletpoint is running through the logistics one last time, and Banter is on his own on the far-right end of the basket, looking off the edge of Canterlot towards northern Equestria.

Crimson focuses on him, on the teal and silver stallion that he tussled with a few days ago. It certainly doesn't look like Banter has put the spar behind him just yet. He hasn't bothered to even look at Crimson, much less attempt some sort of communication. While it doesn't bother the man a whole lot, it does make him worried that this negative synergy might be a hamper towards the rest of the team.

He doesn't have time to mull over it for long, Snowfall's voice calls for his attention. "Get your anchors lifted, everypony. We're heading out. Bulletpoint, get breakfast squared off." Bulletpoint nods and moves to the box Crimson was carrying, prompting the man to step out of the way. "And you," she says as she stares at Crimson, "listen up. Same goes for anypony that might have been asleep during the first debrief. We're on our way to the White Tail Smokey Mountains out in western Equestria. If the weather holds up, we'll be there by noon. Our objective is to acquire an artifact said to be held by the Featherlines. Relations with this griffon gang are not hostile, but I highly advise everyone to keep their guard up. The mission should be in-and-out. We'll get this done quick and be back in Canterlot by sunset. Any questions?"

"Yeah, one," Crimson begins. "We're headin' to a gang camp... to negotiate with 'em?"

"That is correct," Snowfall affirms.

Crimson's mouth becomes bitter. "... Ain't y'all the badges here in Equestria?"

"Get to the point, new-blood."

"Why're we makin' negotiations with a gang when we're the law?"

"Because," she states sternly, "we prefer to keep things peaceful in Equestria. Waging a civil war with the Black Horseshoes and all of their branches, including the Featherlines, won't cause anything but needless casualties and broken homes. As long as they stay in the greys of the law, we won't have to deal with them, and they don't have to deal with us. Let me be clear, they're not the enemy. So we're not fighting them. Understood?"

"... Yeah."

"Good," Snowfall gives him a small smile. "Now quit mulling and take it already."

Crimson feels a nudge on his side. He sees what she was referring to, Bulletpoint has been standing there holding a square ration for him while he was listening to Snowfall. He takes it with appreciation and pops the tin lid open, looking at its contents. A pocket of rice, two chunks of celery, apple slices, two boiled eggs, and a bag of orange juice on the underside of the lid. It's not a whole lot of food, but it looks like enough to keep him comfortably sated. He seals it back up for the time being.

"Alright, miss Seed," Snowfall bids the balloon mare, "we're all green. Unhitch us."

"Yes, ma'am!" she replies, trotting quickly to the rope that ties the balloon down to a ground anchor. She swiftly undoes the knot and tosses the rope into the basket, which Snowfall catches with her wing and sets it down before reaching up to the burner and cranking it up. Strong flames spit upwards into the balloon, and soon enough, the basket rises from the platform. "Y'all take care now!"

"You know we will," Snowfall calls back casually.

Crimson peeks his head off the side of the basket as it rises off the ground. He looks down to the freckled orange mare that helped them get off the ground, noticing her already staring at him. Upon making eye contact, her cheeks tint slightly and she smiles, lifting her arm to wave her hoof at him. Crimson returns a warm smile and salutes her with two fingers.

"Ain't for gettin' airsick, are ya?" Bulletpoint interrupts Crimson's brief moment, causing him to look over.

"Nah. I've been up in the air a few times."

"Heh, good thing then. We's gonna be soarin' here for a few hours, ya feel. My advice to you is ta' start gettin' your grub down, don't want'cha crampin' when we trek up the mountain."

"That means you too," Swirl squints at her sister. "Eat. Now."

"Aww, c'mon, Swirly. I'm not even, like, hungry yet! You know I like to eat at eleven!"

"You are not eating an hour from now." Swirl levitates her sister's ration and bumps it into her chest. With a scrunched muzzle, Strix takes it with her wings.

Crimson looks down at the tin box in his hand. With a deep breath to settle himself, he sits down against the basket's wall and crosses his legs. Bulletpoint sits down next to him, and together, they pop open their rations and begin to dig in, preparing themselves for the rest of the day.

Beak and Talon

~ Equestria, Central Plains ~<
February 5th, Thursday, 12:16

‎

"Quite a sight, ey?" Bulletpoint asks Crimson as they both lean on the edge of the basket, gazing off into the expanse that is Equestria. All sorts of terrain can be seen from their elevation, the grassy plains in the middle of the land, the desert at the far west, the ice-capped sierra up north, and the mountainous regions of both the east and south.

"Sure is. Easy to ignore the world's troubles up here."

"Heha, yeah, I feel that. Up 'n the sky, ain't nothin' to bother ya'. Been dyin' to live away from the ground. After my second contract's done with the Guard, got myself thinkin' about movin' to that place roight over thea," he points his hoof to a distant form floating in the sky.

"What is that?"

"City 'a Cloudsdale. Place is as ancient as Equestria itself. One'a the first settlements ever made by ponykind, 'n more specifically, the pegasi."

"Cloudsdale. You mean to tell me that there floatin' mass is a city."

"Yeh."

"Made of... clouds."

"Everythin' ponies do gonna shake you up?"

"Hope you'd forgive me, ponies take the laws of physics as suggestions. Ain't no way we could live in clouds back where I'm from. How do y'all keep from fallin' right through?"

"Ah it's simple, mate. Pegasus magic."

"... Yeah. That makes a whole lotta sense," Crimson mumbles sarcastically.

"Other ponies can stand on clouds too, given they have the right spell on 'em. Oi, Swirl?"

"What?" she responds unenthusiastically from across the basket.

"Would a cloudwalkin' spell work fer our lad 'ere?"

"It is not species-specific. Assuming he personally does not possess any nullifying properties or resistance to magic, it should work on him as any other creature."

"Right as," he grins at Crimson. "Next time we're off, how's a tour of my future retirement sound?"

"Like a swell idea. I'd stare up at the sky as a kid 'n dream of walkin' on clouds. Be great to entertain my younger self." Bulletpoint clicks his tongue through his teeth in acknowledgement. Crimson returns to gazing at the expanse, taking interest in the mythical rainbow that continuously beams on the far-north of Equestria. Despite no rain and reflected light, it remains prominent and gorgeous. "Didn't you say you used to live up north?"

"Yeh. Right ova thea," he points his hoof, exactly where Crimson was looking.

"That's the 'Neighagra' Falls right under that lightshow'a colors?"

"That it is. Me house was just to the right of it, behind all that forest you see. Fuckin' awful lit'le village, it was. Probably still is. When I was a lad, I'd wake up every mornin' 'n get pissed off at that rainbow. Was always there, bein' an attention-whore in the sky. Somethin' so beautiful lookin' down on the piss-poor rats-nest where I lived. Always thought it was just mockin' me, a big ol' 'Fuck you' from lady nature 'erself. ... Easier ta' admire it now. Sixteen years away from that hole let me get my head on straight."

"You did good fer yerself, B.P. Takes a real man to drag himself outta the dirt. There's a lot to be learned there. I'd even say you'd make a good role-model."

"Me? A role-model? A crack-shot wanka with a swearin' and a drinkin' problem?" he chuckles heartily. "Not in a million years, mate."

"Yer too harsh on yerself, friend. We've all got a few knacks. Used to have a real bad temper when I was young, but my sister helped me sort it all out. 'N just like you, hard liquor 'n I have a history. Well, had one, I'd like to say. Been workin' on it fer the past few years though. Havin' that beer with you a few days back was a milestone fer me. Can't remember the last time I've got to drinkin' 'n didn't go overboard."

"Keepin' sober, ey! Hehehaha! Nah mate, make the mistake of stickin' with me, you'll always have a fizzy in hoof. Add Essie in to the mix, you're gonna get yeself in some wiiiild rides, mate."

Strix giggles and nods. Just then a strike of realization hits her and she rises from sitting, trotting towards Bulletpoint. "Ooh, dude! We should totally throw Crimmy a double party!~"

Crimson furrows his brows. "A what?"

"Ey, ey. Now that ain't a bad idea, Essie. Show this bloke how'ta truly fly, know what'm sayin'? Oi, Swirl, fancy joinin' us?"

"I do not."

"Aww, c'mon!" Strix whines, "remember how much fun you had last time?"

"No."

"... Would you like to come, Banter?" Strix offers to him cautiously, mostly out of politeness rather than genuine alms.

"Nah. I'm good," he replies quickly, secretly relieving her.

"What about you, cap'n?" Bulletpoint smiles at Snowfall. "You, too, had quite a time last we got diggy. C'mon, you know you wanna~"

Snowfall shakes her head slowly, "I'll decline."

"Stick in the mud you are, cap'n."

"Not on purpose. Even if we get time off, we don't know if we'll have an emergency. I need myself AND my best ready and waiting at all times. Understood?"

Bulletpoint nods with a smirk, "Course, cap'n. Loud 'n clear."

"BP, I'm serious. I don't want you or Strix throwing any parties anytime soon."

"Ah nah, ye-ye!" his brows raise high. "Understood, understood!"

Snowfall sighs, knowing the possibilities full-well. She turns around and jumps up onto her hindlegs to peer off the basket towards the approaching mountain. "Helmets on, everypony. We're getting close."

At her command, the squad acquires their headgear. Bulletpoint, Banter, Strix, and Snowfall all plant solid steel helms with triangular openings, revealing their mouths, muzzles, and eyes. Swirl dons a tiara encrusted with three cobalt gems that gently glow once the piece rests on her head. Crimson only watches everyone complete their set, having no headgear of his own. Though he cares not for a helmet, he does wish he could get his stetson back.

"Hrr."

Snowfall turns her attention to Banter's disgruntled emission. She sees him acquiring a crossbow from one of the trunks he sat next to, taking a bolt with it and pulling back the retention string. "Banter, what are you doing?"

"Mmmh..." he hums as he rests the crossbow at the edge of the basket. He peers down the mounted scope and directs his aim... right at a griffon that is approaching them, along with a pack of seven more.

Everyone moves closer to Banter with heightened alertness. Crimson sees the mountain tops of the White Tail drawing near. He can see in the distance a camp surrounded by tall sturdy wooden pikes, and from that camp, griffons are flying towards their balloon. His brows furrow at their approach.

Banter puts his hoof inside the trigger-guard of the crossbow as the sights align on a griffon's forehead. He touches the trigger... applying the gentlest of pressure.

"Stand down, First Lieutenant," Snowfall rumbles harshly at him.

"... Mmh." After a moment, he abides his commanding officer's order. His soft pressure eases off the trigger, but he keeps his hoof inside the trigger-guard. He comes off of the scope and scowls at the approaching bodies.

Strix gasps when a griffon zooms by the basket, just barely missing it and the balloon above. Other griffons begin to repeat this movement, flying dangerously close to the balloon, gawking at it, but do not actually come into contact. While Strix looks around with concern, Crimson, Swirl, and Banter keep a gritting stare at the troops menacingly weaving around their balloon.

Snowfall appears the least-bit fazed by this interaction. She moves to take control of the burner again, easing the flame off and tugging on the ropes to control their slow descent towards the mountain. A clear patch near the east-end of the peak gives good room to stop. As she approaches her landing zone, the griffons that were gauging the balloon retreat and fly back towards the camp, leaving her team alone for the meantime. "Permission to acquire your weapons. Hopefully we don't have to use them."

"What was that, captain?" Strix asks worriedly. "They were just... flying around us!"

"Recon. Don't worry about it. If they wanted to take us down, they'd have tried to do it already."

The squad collects their utility belts from the trunk Banter took the crossbow from. Along with the belt, Strix acquires a sheathed sword, Snowfall a sheathed saber, and Swirl a hip-bag with scrolls. Bulletpoint reaches over and snatches the crossbow out of Banter's hooves, glaring at the stallion who took his weapon without permission, then reaches into the trunk to obtain a small dagger. Banter gawks back for a moment before rummaging through the trunk after Bulletpoint, pulling out an unassembled partisan. He screws one half of the staff to the bladed end, holding it pointed upward with his right arm once he puts it together.

Snowfall tosses a belt to Crimson after she gets hers on, seeing that he wasn't making an effort to get it himself. Crimson catches it and eyes it curiously, having not expected gear of his own. The belt contains several pouch compartments, consisting of two wrap bandages, an alcohol pad, some string, a hook, and a small amount of... some sort of substance. A purple liquid inside of a spray bottle. Crimson's expression hardens when it clicks. It's a compact unit of tranquilizing potion. At least it isn't being used against him this time.

He wraps it over his duster and clicks it together around his hips, right over the belt he already has on. It's big enough to fit comfortably at the last notch. Were his waist any bigger, it wouldn't have fit around him at all.

"Mm?" Snowfall hums questioningly as she holds up a sheathed sword for him. Crimson opens his hand in front of him, prompting her to toss it. He catches it and looks at it, scrutinizing it just as he did the belt. He isn't a technical expert in the design of blades, but he feels this weapon to be a little too light. Despite this, it has a sturdy feel and a decent length, maybe an inch or so less than a typical arming sword.

He follows suit to what he sees Snowfall and Strix do, attaching their sword at the hip by a notch on the utility belt. Once everyone is armed, Snowfall unhitches the basket door and pushes it open. She steps out with her team behind her, directing Strix to tie the balloon down to a nearby rock protrusion. The squad makes their way across the pebbled, uneven dirt terrain of the peak towards the fort.

"Think they were expectin' visitors?" Bulletpoint inquires.

"They should," Snowfall responds. "We had Scribes send letters to this camp's lieutenant. The lack of reply meant either we were ignored or they didn't feel the need to respond. Whatever the case, we need what they have."

"Permission to unsheathe if these shit-birds get militant?" Banter requests.

"Leave your weapon at your side, Banter. Standing order."

Once the team arrives at the front gate, they are met with two griffons guarding either side. On the left is a tall, slender female griffon, and on the right is a bulky male griffon. They scan their squinted eyes across the team but end up gluing their eyes to the bipedal sore thumb.

"Hail from Canterlot. I am Captain Snowfall of the Equestrian Royal Guard Elite."

"Yeah, yeah, we know who you are..." the male griffon on the right side utters while glancing between her and Crimson. "So. That's him, huh?" Everyone in the squad turns with question towards the tall man at the back. "Big red-head human. Hangs with ponies. Lives in Canterlot. Fits the bill."

"You got somethin' for me, partner?" Crimson raises his left brow.

"At ease," Snowfall calls for his silence. Crimson abides and holds his tongue, letting Snowfall handle the rest of the interaction.

"Hoholy shit," the male griffon chortles, "he does talk. Now that is fucking crazy. Think you could show us a little bit of that... angel magic?" Crimson keeps his tired, stoic expression held without response. "... Whatever. It's probably all bullshit anyway. Now then," he returns his attention to Snowfall. "What business your kind got with us today?"

"We're here to offer a trade to your camp lieutenant. We believe she is in possession of an item that the Royal Consortium deems important and would like to propose an offer."

The two griffons look at each other briefly, exchanging mischievous grins. "Where do you got the money? We've gotta make sure you aren't bullshittin' us."

"As representatives of the Consortium, I assure you we're not committing perjury."

"How do we know you ain't?"

"The details enclosed in the letters sent to your lieutenant specify all necessary information. If she has any further questions, I will be glad to answer. To her."

"We should let them in," the slender female griffon calls to her partner in a quick, antsy voice. "Lieutenant was talking about this a few days ago... remember?"

"Yeah, but--" the female griffon cuts off her partner by lifting her clawed finger and shaking it. They gaze at each other quietly, silently confirming something to one another. The male griffon looks back to Snowfall. "Alright. You can talk to the lieutenant. But. You pick two from your little team here to meet her. The rest gotta wait outside the tent. Good?"

"Understood," Snowfall affirms.

The griffon looks up towards a nest that overlooks the front gate above him. He points a finger to the sky and twirls it once at a griffon stationed in the nest. The gate begins to rumble and roll open towards the left, allowing entry into the camp. As Snowfall and her team are about to enter, the griffon steps in front of her and grumbles, "Be on your best behavior... mmkay?"

Snowfall eyes him boredly... and after a tense second, the griffon steps aside, letting her proceed. The squad walks together through the camp, through the judgmental eyes of the griffons that move about and perform their duties. As they walk between all sorts of pitches and tents, there is a prominent ruckus happening near the center of the camp. While difficult to see from all the tents, stacks of crates and supplies, piles of wood and weapons obstructing the view, Crimson sees a high condensation of griffons all grouped around something. Looks like some sort of platform.

The lieutenant's larger, more extrusive tent draws near. Two male griffons stand at the front, driving their squinting eyes towards the squad as they approach. Snowfall halts before them, having her team follow suit. The griffons side-step towards each other to block the entryway to the tent as they run their eyes between the entire team.

"... Swirl, Banter, on me," Snowfall orders. "The rest of you, eyes and ears."

Crimson, Bulletpoint, and Strix all take a few steps back, leaving Banter and Swirl right behind Snowfall. The griffons bounce their eyes between the three closest to them before they side-step back to their original locations. Snowfall strides forward towards the tent flap with her two squadmates tailing close. They enter the lieutenant's tent, walking into a candle-lit room with a desk sat right in the middle. Crates of supplies and items are lined at the edges of the room, and a futon rests at the far end.

The lieutenant herself sits at the desk with two griffons guarding either side. She writes into parchment with a quill, and keeps doing so as she doesn't immediately acknowledge the ponies that entered her pavilion. She even dips the quill into an ink well once it runs dry to continue writing rather than look up.

Snowfall takes it upon herself to initiate the interaction by firmly calling, "Hail from Canterlot. I am Captain Snowfall of the Equestrian Royal Guard Elite. I assume you already know why we're here."

The lieutenant finally stops writing. Her steely grey-blue eyes lift from the parchment to gaze at Snowfall. She slowly reaches for her rectangular reading glasses and removes them, placing them down on the desk. She sits up, directing her unreadable expression towards the captain. "Assumptions," she repeats with monotone. "Assumptions are dangerous, captain. A character of your position should know this."

"I'm not here to argue semantics, lieutenant, our business here is clear. We would like to propose an offer for the artifact under your possession."

"... Hmh," the lieutenant hums, looking back down to the parchment she was writing in. "Yes, well... I'm afraid that there is a... problem with your request."

‎

~~~<

‎

Crimson, Strix, and Bulletpoint stand next to each other quietly, keeping their senses heightened. The commotion occurring not too far off at the center of the camp demands Crimson's attention repeatedly. He assumes that this single faded-green tent blocking his view is the only thing stopping him from getting a view, so he decides to break formation to walk around it.

"Oi. Mate." Bulletpoint calls as he and Strix see Crimson walk off.

He doesn't take more than a few steps before he hears a voice bellow over Bulletpoint's, "Hey!" One of the griffons guarding the entrance flap hollers at him. "Where're you going?"

"Curious about the turbulence goin' on," Crimson replies simply.

"Oh, that?" the griffon snickers. "The talking human's a curious one. Well, hey, if you wanna go check it out... go right ahead." Crimson's brows raise in surprise at the generous yet mildly unsettling demeanor of the griffon's tone. As he turns to walk again, he is verbally halted once more. "But, he's watching your ass," the griffon says as he grabs his guarding partner by the back of the neck and shoves him forward towards Crimson. The mishandled griffon grunts and furrows his browline in annoyance. "You two ponies stay right here though. Can't have you all wandering around the camp now."

Crimson looks towards Bulletpoint and Strix, taking in some approving glances from them. Strix takes a few steps closer to Crimson, calling him in for a whisper. He ducks his ear close to her muzzle. "If you find anything out, like... make sure you tell us."

"And mate," Bulletpoint calls gravely. It definitely takes Crimson by surprise seeing this specific stallion fix up with a heart of conviction. "If anythin' goes down, you don't fight. You come back. Don't care what, don't care who, you come right back. 'M I clear?" Crimson stares back at him with pure sobriety and nods twice. "... Right as," his activated attitude slowly restores to its usual self.

Crimson turns his attention to the bitter griffon having to lead him, letting him move on. This griffon walks with burning agitation, leading Crimson past the tent, now presented with a dirt path that leads towards the center of the camp. Turns out that the single green tent wasn't the only thing blocking them from the show.

"Fucking asshole," the griffon whispers once out of earshot and line of sight.

"Hn, you can say that again. He threw you at me like a mutt."

"Now you know the world's gone to shit when the magic talking human's got a better grasp on the fundamentals of respect than my own kind. Yeah, believe it or fucking not, I've been dealing with this shit for a while now, all because of a mission that I 'failed' to complete. Not only was it not my fault everything went to tartarus, but thanks to me and my sister, we're still fucking alive and we came back with something."

"The hell happened?"

"... It's a long story, I'm not getting into it right now."

"Understood. So this hazin' shit's sorta yer punishment?"

"No. Getting deranked was my punishment. Now that I'm at the ass-end of the chain of command, I'm a prime target for shit-flinging. Can't do a damn thing about it because nearly everyone else here is my 'superior.'"

Crimson puts his hands in his duster pockets, feeling the sword bounce against his hip as he walks. "If this place is that bad, why don't you scram on outta here?"

"Don't--!" He stops and snaps towards Crimson, forcing him to halt as well. He turns his eyes around himself for a moment. "... Don't say that so loud. Get us both into fucking trouble. ... Hrgh, you think I haven't tried? I don't know how they do it, I don't know how they keep catching us, but they do."

"'Us?' Reckon you mean yer previously mentioned sister?"

"You got it. ... Pretty smart for a human. Guess I shouldn't be surprised, all things considered. You were the talk of the camp for an entire week a while ago."

"I'll try to take that as a compliment. I'm surprised I'm known outside'a Canterlot. Now you got me wonderin' how much of Equestria knows. Word's spreadin' mighty quick."

"You're 'surprised?'" The griffon raises his claw, palm out, as if narrating a headline, "Extraterrestrial angel human slays dragon single-handedly." He drops his claw back down, raising his browline to Crimson.

"Now how in the hell do y'all know about that?"

"Like you said, word travels quick. You tell one set of ears, it'll wind up in ten more. Those ten? A hundred. A hundred?" Crimson sighs and rubs his forehead, acquiring a metallic taste in his mouth at the lack of privacy he now suffers. "Only reason these griffons haven't tried anything crazy on you today is that you're working for pony royalty. As much as they like to look tough, they're not gonna do shit against the crowns. My advice? Stick with them. Stay away from gangs if you can help it."

"You trust me, friend, I'm the last bastard in the world that's ever gonna get stuck with a gang."

"Good," the griffon smiles slightly, looking Crimson in the eyes. "... You know, I think I might like you. Not that you asked, but... name's Fawl, by the way."

"Crimson. And, uh, try'n keep that name to yerself. Don't want everyone to know everythin' about me." Fawl gives an acknowledging nod. "Now, back to what we were sayin' earlier, with you tryin' to, uh... y'know," he leans in and mumbles, "skidaddle outta here. How's it they keep sniffin' you out?"

"Told you, we don't fucking know. We..." he sighs, lowering his voice, "we always made sure to cover our tracks and keep our plans quiet. We've tried escaping two times now, both ended in disaster. Next time we're caught leaving the camp without the lieutenant's permission, what you're about to witness is gonna happen to us." Crimson's expression falls with dubiety. Fawl rolls his eyes and keeps walking, "Come see for your fucking self. And try not to talk."

Crimson is led to the center of the camp past one last cluster of tents. He is presented with a spacious clearing with a crowd of griffons gathered around a hardwood stage built directly in the middle. He realizes quickly that this is no stage for plays, but for execution. Three griffons are set on this long elevated platform, standing over trapdoors with nooses being tied around their necks by their own kind. Their wings are bound to their sides, their front claws bound behind their backs, forcing them to stand on their lion-like hindlegs. These prisoners have a mix of expressions, two of them look hateful and intense, while another is quaking.

Crimson returns his attention to Fawl, seeing that he is still walking. He continues to follow him, ignoring the critical eyes he's drawing by being so close to the pack of griffons awaiting their spectacle. Fortunately, these griffons seem too far up their own asses to even acknowledge his existence farther than a quick gawking. Whether they stare at him because he's an abnormal human or because he's apart of the Royal Guard Elite is another question. He reckons it's a mix of both.

Fawl stops at the far left of the pack, leaning forward to whisper near a female griffon's ear. The female griffon turns herself when she catches sight of Crimson, her expression gleams in wonder.

"It's you!" she calls with her grainy, high-pitched voice, just above a whisper.

"Howdy," Crimson replies at equal volume. "Fawl's sister, I reckon?"

She nods quickly. "Tawl! That's me!"

"Pleasure to meet you--"

Fawl runs his claws at his neck repeatedly, causing Crimson to stop. He glances around himself quickly, affirming his suspicion that other griffons are actively watching them interact. He looks towards the stage with narrowing eyes, driving Tawl and Crimson to follow suit.

"Now!" calls a male speaking griffon who is coming up onto the stage. He stands with a high chin, a soft expression, and a decorated scimitar hanging off his hip. "We are gathered here for the second time this month. Yes. The second time this month. Our station, the White Tail West Watch, has stained the pride of the Featherline once again. We are ALL tarnished together, for the mistakes of one... are the mistakes of all. Whether superiors could not keep their wings in line, or a wing's misguided tribute leads to a series of unfortunate events..." he slowly turns to face the three captives gripped by the hangman's knot, "... or a sacred trust is shattered in the name of defiance." The prisoners stare back at him, churning under the pressure of his startlingly calm expression. "And for these mistakes, we must atone. We must give back what we took from the Featherlines." He turns back to face the crowd again. "Here before you, three wayward souls stand present. Undeniably confused in their ways. Today, they will atone for their mistakes. For tarnishing the very flag they swore oath to."

The crowd riles up in indignation towards the prisoners. Their berating shouts are only silenced by the griffon speaking on the stage after he raises an opened claw.

"I feel as you all do," he places his right claw on his chest. "It is truly a wistful feeling for our own to contrive against us." He turns to face the prisoners again, turning both his head and his eyes to look at each of them individually. The prisoner on the farthest left is gritting angrily at him, the prisoner in the middle is stern and critical, and the prisoner on the right is still sobbing uncontrollably. "Raylash Wind. Einker Chain. And Yoko Laila. You three have been condemned to death for treason. May your next life serve with greater purpose... than the one you thew away today."

"N-No! P-Please!" the sobbing prisoner Yoko cries. "Please! I'm sorry! It was a mistake! It was always a mistake, a-and I see that now! I-I'll give my life for the Featherlines! I'll do anything! Please give me a second chance!" The crowd of griffons begins to boo and scowl harshly, causing her to whimper further. "I'm so sor-ry-he-heee!"

The speaking griffon's calm stare turns to sympathy. He slowly walks towards Yoko, standing at her front. He reaches forward and gently wipes forming tears from her right eye while he gazes into it. "... You had beautiful eyes, Yoko. Green and glimmering as the mildew grass in a Spring morning. Though a mere squad member, you had so much potential. You followed orders to a T, and your willingness to press against difficult odds was always admirable. You were a gift to us... and I truly believe you will become better."

"R-Really!?" she cries through a sob.

"You will. I know you will. Do not tarnish your next opportunity... on the other side." He smiles at her as he reaches for the lever at her side.

"... Hwait... no... no! No-no-no!" Jck-clink! "HE-AHK! AAHK! HAAHK!" Yoko's hindlegs kick wildly as she is suspended from her neck by the constricting rope. Purposefully left without enough drop-froce to instantly kill her, she hangs alive, and her body wiggles left and right in her pure desperation. The platform's assembly was instrumented for this particular suffering.

The speaking griffon watches her struggle for a moment... then nonchalantly walks to the next prisoner. They exchange stares for a silent moment. "... Nothing to say for yourself, Einker?"

"Shut up and get this over with," he grumbles aggressively.

"... You always were fearless. One of the best frontline combatants I had the pleasure to stand alongside with. It doesn't surprise me you are so willing to take your rebirth with courage. A most earnest farewell." He reaches to the lever and pulls it, springing the trap from under Einker. He falls through and is jolted at his trachea, but hardly fights or croaks. He keeps his chin tucked and hangs quietly. With a proud smile, the speaking griffon turns to walk to the last prisoner. "... And Raylash."

"Good afternoon, Second Lieutenant," he replies with sarcasm.

"Indeed, a very good afternoon. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, a gentle breeze in the air, not too hot and not too cold... a perfect afternoon. Tell me, Raylash... why would one of the West Watch's highest ranking troops commit such... treachery? A priceless relic to be preserved and studied... stolen? Stolen and then given right into the claws of our enemy? Why?"

"Why?" Raylash cackles. "Reasons, Second Lieutenant, reasons. Reasons that I feel are far beyond your limited scope of ideologies. Had I the time or will to explain it to you, I would waste my breath. The Sleeping Talons... they have a certain knack for knowing things, getting into things... planting a seed where the soil is more fertile." His wicked grin turns to a questioning grimace when the speaking griffon offers no rebuttal, he only stares in a curious silence. "... Why the eyes, Second Lieutenant?"

"I am only thinking... how you and I are very alike. It is a shame that you chose this path. You could have become something great. Perhaps, something even greater than yourself. Than all of us. Many eyes were watching you, rooting for your progress... now, those same eyes gaze down upon you with disdain. But, it matters not now. This is the direction in which the marble of life chose to trundle. There is no sense in lingering on the past." He reaches for the lever, giving Raylash one last glance. "Do know that your attempts at secrecy are for naught."

"Hehehe. I highly doubt that, Second Lieutenant. --GHK! HIK!" The trapdoor under him gives way when the lever is pulled. His body autonomously struggles against the asphyxiation, flinching and twisting with vanity.

The speaking griffon steps back and watches the three prisoners hang. Yoko is still writhing, eyes bloodshot and tearing, saliva running from the corners of her beak, but the slow greying of her irises speaks impending freedom. Einker is motionless, save for gentle kinetic energy of his suspension turning him left and right. It's difficult to tell whether he's dead or not... and if he isn't, he will be soon enough. Raylash only just started his path to liberation, but he fits perfectly, being the last to die as the leader of this miscreant team.

The speaking griffon hardly even realized the crowd behind him had started cheering wildly, celebrating this public execution. His hearing ceases to drown them out, and instead embraces them with a satisfied smile.

Tawl looks to Crimson, seeing the serious expression on his front. He watches the dangling prisoners as they suffer a slow, uncomfortable death. He already knows that this world is some sort of wayward parallel existence to his own, but being witness to this practice again only affirms it.

A strange calm fills the air. The cheering crowds are drowned away, the clanking of metal and stomping of the dirt is muted to silent thumps. He feels a soothing breeze touch his face, one that he finds... unpleasant.

"SHIT!"

Crimson and the siblings, along with every other griffon in the crowd, look towards the sudden cry of distress. It came from the front gate of the camp, hidden from sight by the mass of tents.

"PROCEDURE SIX! WE HAVE INCOMING!" the griffon at the gate watch tower yells. "THEY'RE FUCKING EVERYWHERE!"

"Procedure six?" Tawl and Fawl both repeat.

"What does that mean?" Crimson asks hurriedly. His dilating eyes focus above him as he catches a small glint in the sky. "... Get down!" he shouts as he raises his forearm up, standing above the siblings with his legs shoulder-width apart. His eyes begin to sheen with energy as a golden shield forms into reality, just in time to absorb the barrage of iron-tipped arrows littering the camp from every angle. Tawl and Fawl gasp with caught breath, ogling up at the man who saved them.

The griffons from the crowd aren't as fortunate, with many suffering the hail of death. Cries of agony ring as flesh is pierced by the alacritous projectiles. Blood quickly drips from their punctures, moistening the dry dirt of the camp.

"... Herhk, yohrk--"

The speaking griffon who stands mortified on the stage, miraculously unscathed from the barrage, turns quickly after hearing an active croak come from Raylash.

"... You-hk... eheh." With the few remnants of his consciousness, he smiles mockingly... then dies.

"You... you foolish worm!" the speaking griffon clamors. He turns back to face the rest of the camp, witnessing the power of the station severed in one fell swoop. Over a dozen troops lie dying or dead from their wounds, and the remaining Featherline troops are all scampering to acquire their gear and weapons. He fails to catch sight of the human that had displayed his indescribable power, leaving only himself and his quelled strength. Judging from the amount of arrows that rained down upon them, the numbers that lie beyond the wooden posts are too great to overcome. But, with a grit of ire and determination, he draws his scimitar from his sheathe and points to the grey and yellow flag that flaps in the midday breeze above the camp. He bellows to the Featherlines around him, "UNDER THIS FLAG WE FIGHT! FOR THIS FLAG, WE DIE! FEATHERLINES, CHAAARGE!" And in response, he receives warring shouts from his troops.

From around the wooden borders of the camp, countless Sleeping Talon troops emerge simultaneously, effectively surrounding the camp from all sides. These griffons, dressed in dark blue, form-fitting attire, all aim their crossbows into the camp as one unit. But, with a rallying cry from the Featherline strength, they take into the sky with arms of their own and press two attacks on opposites sides, splitting the Sleeping Talon focus. Featherline troops are shot as they ascend, costing them further numbers, but the gap in per-unit combat effectiveness is presented clearly when they body their oppressor.

The aerial exchange begins, bodies and blood begin to fall from the sky, staining the mountain of White Tail.

‎

~~~<

‎

"I see," Snowfall mutters sorely. "How long ago did this happen?"

"Yesterday morning," the lieutenant replies. "Featherline patrols were fast enough to catch the act, but not nearly fast enough to suppress the exchange. As far as this station is concerned, the artifact is adrift and forfeit."

"No possible leads?"

"An entire day of excruciating physical punishment against the perpetrators yielded no information. Because of numerous security breaches demanding strict attention, we decided to cut our losses. The prisoners are being executed as we speak and we will not postpone it for any reason. Apart from these prisoners, there is no information about the artifact's whereabouts. I will now firmly declare that we have no further business."

Snowfall's expression hardens, "I believe we still have much more to talk about. I understand your hesitancy to cooperate with the Consortium, but this relic cannot be lost."

"What is it about this relic that you seek? Mm? Its power? The ability to manipulate time?"

"The use of the artifact is for the research team to determine."

The lieutenant stares upwards boredly. "Then I will ease your campaign. The artifact arrived into this station broken. Whatever properties it held, it no longer possess them after its destruction."

The expression of all three ponies quickly turn with ire. Snowfall purses her lip in thought, formulating an after action report on the relic in her head. All information previously given is now obsolete, their objective returns to an absence without lead, and worse yet, destroyed.

"SHIT!"

At the same time, everyone in the lieutenant's tent turns around at the sound of a loud yell. And another. Then chaos. The two griffons at the lieutenant's side draw their scimitars and walk towards the tent flap. One of the griffon guards reaches for the tent flap and peers out... "... FUCK!" he shouts as he and his mate bounce back into the tent. The roof is suddenly pelted by a number of arrows, none penetrating the thick felt, but coming deathly close. "LIEUTENANT, YOU NEED TO EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY!"

The tent flap is pushed open when Bulletpoint and Strix dash in, eyes dilated and hearts racing. Bulletpoint has an arrow stuck on the backside of his armor, fortunate that it did not penetrate. "FUCKIN' A!" he calls as he looks back at himself, seeing the projectile lodged in his plate. He then looks back at the panting Strix, placing his hooves all over her body as he pats her down. "You 'lright, Essie!? You good!?"

"Thanks to you! You literally saved my butt, B.P!"

"Ye, well, me armour's the real hero 'ere!"

"Hey!" Banter shouts at them, gripping his partisan tighter, "the fuck's going on out there?"

"No idea, mate! But I do know that we've got a bloke out thea still!"

Snowfall shifts her furrowed eyes across Strix and Bulletpoint. "... Where's Crimson?"

"He-- ah, he--" Bulletpoint stammers as he tries to explain with as little damage as possible.

"He broke formation and wandered off," Snowfall assumes sharply. Bulletpoint nods. "Celestia help him." She turns to the bemused female griffon, "Give me a sitrep, lieutenant."

"It appears we're being raided," the lieutenant replies simply. She looks upwards to the ceiling, gauging the arrows that poke through. "By the Sleeping Talons no less. It was foolish of me to have not realized our security was far beyond compromised."

Snowfall sighs and adjusts her helmet, "They picked a really great time to do this."

"Captain," Banter begins, "we finally permission to unsheathe?-- Hn?"

The tent flap is blown apart as a tall mass breaks in. The two griffon guards and Banter draw their weapons at it. The three of them look up to meet the hazel eyes of the man who holds two other griffons in his arms.

"He has prisoners!" one of the guards calls.

"No he fucking doesn't, jackass," Fawl grumbles.

"Put your damn weapon down, Banter," Snowfall utters in annoyance. Banter huffs loudly in frustration and returns his partisan to his side.

The guards look in confusion as Crimson lets both of them down. Tawl immediately looks up towards him, eyes glimmering in adore.

Crimson promptly meets the terribly unimpressed stare of Snowfall. "You and I are going to have a talk later," she rumbles. "What's the status out there? Has the perimeter been breached?"

"Not yet, I reckon they're gonna ready another of them hailstorms. Ain't gonna lie to you Snowfall, shit's gettin' fucked out there. They got us outnumbered 'n outgunned. I ain't sure we can fight what they're dishin' out without leavin' in a casket."

"To make matters worse!" Fawl continues, "Half of our camp was struck down by that first barrage! If they're setting up another, there's no fucking way we're gonna survive! Shit's not getting fucked, we ARE fucked!"

"Lieutenant!" the same griffon guard as before calls again, "you have to evacuate! Now! We'll hold them off as long as we can!" With these words, both griffon guards dash out of the tent and into the ring of death.

The lieutenant blinks slowly, listening close to the sounds of war breaking out just outside her tent. She looks down at the parchment she was writing in for a moment before she decides to roll it up. She moves to acquire a hip-bag from the left side of her desk and she gets it on quickly. She pulls her chair back and reaches down, taking the handle to a trapdoor that lies right under the desk. She opens it and stands back up, glancing towards the members of the Elite squad. "It would be an irremovable stain on the Featherline flag if pony blood was shed here. I advise you all to move quickly."

Without hesitation, Snowfall takes the lead and moves around the desk. She sees that this hidden passage has a ladder that climbs down to a dark hole, barely visible from the candlelight that illuminates the tent. She turns around, heading flank first down the ladder. Strix moves after, then Swirl, following Banter, Bulletpoint, and finally Crimson. As Crimson moves to take the ladder down, Tawl and Fawl follow him to make the descent.

"And where do you think you're going?" the lieutenant hums coldly at the siblings. Tawl and Fawl both ogle back at her in fear. Crimson halts his descent, looking up at the interaction.

"Crims'n!" Bulletpoint calls from below, "what'dya waitin' for, mate?"

Crimson climbs back up the ladder and stands before the lieutenant. He fixes her with a stern glare as he states, "They're with me."

"... Treason, is it?"

"Not when the team you're switchin' to has the same enemy."

"... Tawl, Fawl," the lieutenant eyes them without interest. "Let me be very clear. The moment you descend down this ladder, you will be condemned. You will be attacked and killed by Featherline troops on sight."

Fawl's intimidated stature slowly hardens for anger. "So I run back out there, without a weapon, and die for a cause I don't give a fuck about, OR, I die to the same cause that has made my life worthless? Yeah, I think I'm fine with those conditions, Silvershade."

"Do not call me by my name."

"Or what? File me for insubordination? Fuck you, and fuck the Featherlines." Fawl marches around the desk, passing both Crimson and the lieutenant as he descends down the ladder. Tawl follows quickly, clenching her beak tightly at her brother's act of defiance.

Once the siblings make it down, Crimson smiles firmly at the lieutenant and raises his hand to the trapdoor. "After you, Silvershade."

The lieutenant plasters her unamused eyes at Crimson with little emotion. She turns away with the same carelessness and begins her descent down the ladder. After everyone makes it down, Crimson moves to the ladder, grabbing the desk chair by its leg and yanking it towards him so it looks less disturbed. He closes the hatch on his way down, leaving the lieutenant's office empty and unassuming.

Prepositional Phrases

~ Equestria, White Tail Mountains ~<
February 5th, Thursday, 14:07

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Pitch black darkness. The underground cellar which the team has entered lacks any light source. The distant, barely audible noise from the war above adds tension to the unlit room. Everyone fidgets uncomfortably.

A small light comes into flame, struck up by the lieutenant. She holds a match in the tips of her left claw, providing just enough light to barely see around. Everyone notes that they're inside an empty square room with rock walls as infrastructure. There's no path or access point anywhere, this place seems like a dead-end. "This way," she says heedlessly, walking towards a wall at the far end of the room. Everyone follows quietly behind her and stays close. Once at the wall, the lieutenant uses the knuckles on her left claw to press it lightly. It clicks, mechanisms begin to work and the wall is lifted upwards.

"I assume that this hidden path leads to the old White Tail silver mine," Snowfall states.

"That would be correct," the lieutenant confirms, stepping into the secret entryway. They are greeted with a mine shaft that breaks into many directions. The lieutenant waves the match to put it out, no longer needing it as the shaft has lamps containing elderly flames. There are pieces of old mining equipment scattered about, sounds of creaking wooden structures, and crumbs of ore littered across the ground. "Pass through, I must close the entryway behind us lest the Sleeping Talons become wise to our escape." Everyone follows her orders and enters the ancient, dreary mine shaft. She faces the fake wall and presses a small steel button on the wall to her left, causing the chunk of rock to come back down and conceal their exit.

"This place gives me the creeps," Fawl comments. "Safe to say there's business down here since those lamps are still on, right?" he asks, looking towards the lieutenant.

"It is of no concern to you," she says as she begins to walk, prompting everyone to follow. "We will be able to exit through the main entrance at the base of the mountain."

"Really? Wow!" Tawl says in amusement. "Ponies must have dug for years if they made a path inside the whole mountain!"

"Almost a decade," Swirl states seriously. "Mining silver was responsible for one of Equestria's biggest economic booms before Celestia's coronation."

"OoOoh... I never knew that," Tawl puts the tip of her finger at her beak.

"Of course you didn't," Fawl reciprocates, "we both don't know a damn thing about Equestrian history."

"Makes three of us," Crimson adds. "The more I can learn about it, the better."

"Then why don't you try, I don't know, mmn," Banter pauses to fake a musing air, "reading a book?"

"Well ain't that a swell idea, partner. I'll just skim my eyes across an alphabet I don't understand."

"You do not know how to read Ponish?" Swirl asks with a hint of curiosity.

"Not one bit."

"Odd, considering you speak it just fine."

"Yeah, it don't make much sense to me either. I'm sure it won't be too difficult to learn, considerin' we've got the same vowel system 'n such. Hey, think you could give me a lesson some time, Swirl?" he asks playfully.

"... No," she says after a moment of thought.

"Aaaww," Strix hums, "there's no reason to be rude, Swirly~"

"I am going to end your life if you call me that in public."

Snowfall sighs, "I'm sure you don't mean it, but easy. Don't make yourself an accomplice."

"... Yes, captain," Swirl submits.

"Aah! Fuuckin' A!" Bulletpoint suddenly groans in anger.

"What is it?" Snowfall glances towards him.

"The balloon! Forgot all about it! Aagh, it's right fucked. Prolly popped 'n looted. We lost a week's worth'a shit, cap'n. Consortium ain't gonna be too happy 'bout this."

"We're not going back up the mountain, BP. Not with the enemy overtaking the outpost. Consider it forfeit, nothing of value was lost. High echelon will understand. And if they don't, too bad. I'm not about to risk my troops for replaceable materials."

"That is not the case," the lieutenant says languidly. "The Sleeping Talons are raiding, not overtaking. They are wiser than to stay at this fort even after they claim victory over it. Were they ever bold enough to stay and hold this location, they could never defend it against the Black Horseshoes' forces. They are only killing and taking, if only to send a message and prod at the Featherline strength. Every base of operations they possess is hidden and unfound. They choose to keep themselves this way as they know full-well the Black Horseshoes would quell them effortlessly if they were found."

"Still, we'll cut our losses," Snowfall restates. "We need to report to Canterlot as soon as possible. There's a lot Celestia needs to know."

"So," Fawl glares at his ex-lieutenant, "how long is it gonna take to get through this cave?"

"Estimated an hour."

"An hour!?"

Banter starts with annoyance, "We are walking down an entire mountain. No shit it'd take an hour."

Fawl turns to squint at him. "I don't like your tone, dickhead."

"Yeah? What're you gonna do about it, prick?"

They both nearly stop moving to grit at each other.

"Lock it down, both of you," Snowfall commands. Fawl turns his burning stare to her bitterly, finding distaste in being ordered. ... But his eyes trail to just behind her, towards Crimson. Crimson is staring at him seriously, a silent, sympathetic expression that suggests the best for him. Fawl's riled temper slowly simmers down and he sighs lightly, looking forward again without saying a word. He doesn't see it, but Crimson smiles slightly at his wise decision. Banter also returns his gaze forward, easing off through Snowfall's order.

"Weeell," Tawl begins, "since we're gonna be walking for a while... does anyone know any travel songs?"

"No," Banter, Swirl, and Fawl all say simultaneously. Tawl bites her tongue despondently at the quick collective put-down.

"Oo! Oo! I know one!" Strix suddenly blurts with a big smile. "Oooh, there once was a hero named Britty the Bold, who came riding to Detrot from ol' Palomino~"

Everyone who complained earlier sighs in annoyance, but Crimson puts his hands in his duster pockets and smirks.

Tawl's gloominess is replaced by a giddy smile. "Oo! Oo! I know this one! I know it! Let's sing it together! From the top!" Strix and Tawl both clear their throats and inhale.

‎

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~ Canterlot Castle, the Royal Research Labs ~<
February 5th, Thursday, 15:32

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With the caution of a wary thief, Moonlight peeks her head in the grand archway that leads into the Royal Research Labs. A constantly-shifting shadow shrouds her face, cast onto her by the huge gyroscope that endlessly turns. It's still there at the end of the hallway, standing in front of a huge window pane, just as she remembers it. She enjoys the familiar sight, but doesn't stop to admire it right now. Her eyes shift from left to right under her navy-blue hood, scoping out for any signs of life. She doesn't see or hear anyone, which is quite odd since she assumes there's at least two researchers here.

She slowly steps in, internally hating the clop of her hooves on the marble flooring. It's difficult to be sneaky when your movement apparatuses cause such a conspicuous sound. Luckily, she doesn't see anyone yet. She begins to think that no one is currently here, possibly due to royal business.

A plan strikes up in her head... she can go to Swirl's desk and leave the mini-ANA there, and write a note detailing how to properly make use of it. Moonlight wouldn't have to talk to anyone AND she'd get the mission accomplished as well. It's a perfect plan.

She feels a tingle in her chest as she trots quickly towards Swirl's office. She enters and looks around, attempting to find out where her main desk is. She remembers that Swirl's working method is similar to hers in that she doesn't have a main desk, she just uses them all according to steps or processes. Moonlight moves to the closest lab table to the entrance, making sure it's at an unmissable location when walking in. She levitates the mini-ANA from the inner pocket of her Scribe robes and sets it down on the table. She then helps herself to a single sheet of parchment from a stack and a quill, one that was already sitting inside an ink-pot.

She flips off her hood from her head and begins printing an explanation, following a set of steps into the parchment in a rather needlessly perfected fashion, stopping occasionally to see if she has made an error. Once she has everything written down and feels satisfied, she returns the quill into the ink-pot and smiles wryly at her note. She makes her exit from Swirl's lab, keeping her eyes turned to the powered-off mini-ANA as she does.

"Gnh!" "Goh!"

Moonlight had moved her head forward after exiting the archway, just to bump her muzzle into something, and that something whimpered back at her. Luckily it was fairly soft and didn't cause any real pain, neither did she accidentally stab it with her horn. She quickly takes a step back and nearly trips on her robes, looking towards a silver and blue stallion that furrows his brows incredulously. He holds what appears to be boxed lunch in his silver-colored aura.

"... Huh!" he gasps as his eyelids break open. "... Mu-Muh...!"

Moonlight's face quickly reddens at the sight of Magnifying Glass, and likewise his in the presence of Moonlight. Magnifying's magic spittles before it fades abruptly, dropping the box of food. Moonlight's second-nature kicks in and she catches the box in her magic before it hits the ground. They both stare at each other in a weighty silence, with no one else around to break the tension. At the very least, the huge spinning gyroscope's constant whooshing and humming makes the environment not completely silent.

Moonlight turns her eyes left and right before leaving them on him again. She swallows a block in her throat, wondering why he isn't saying anything. This is exactly the reaction he had the first time they saw each other, but now, Swirl isn't here to viciously snap him out of his trance.

She notices that she is still holding onto his lunch, deciding to levitate it towards him and hold it near his face, hopefully to divert his attention to it. She gets her intended effect. Finally, he breaks eye-contact with her to glance at his box of food. He smacks his lips once and shakes his head before he chuckles awkwardly, "Mu-M-Moonlight, you-- eheh... hi!"

"Hel-" Moonlight clears her throat, "hello, M-Magnifying Glass."

"You-You saved my lunch, Moonlight! Ah-I'm eternally grateful!"

"It-It was no problem, ehehe," her blundering chuckle forces itself from her mouth.

"It's suh-- so good to see you back, Moonlight! It... It's been lonely here today!"

Moonlight scans his face with slight unease. "... Are you the only one here?"

"Yuh-Yup! Only one! Swirl's out doing stuff with the Royal Guard again. The rest of the team's in Las Pegasus!"

"O-Oh. ... I'm very sorry."

"Suh-Sorry for what? You didn't do anything wrong, Moonlight!"

"... You're all alone."

"Hey, that's okay! The loneliness and lack of social interaction does wonders for the progress in my latest project!"

Moonlight's ears perk up slightly. "Oh! W-... What are you working on?"

"A ring that mutes magic!" Moonlight's expression wavers terribly. Magnifying quickly clears his throat and giggles nervously, "It-It's a little strange if I say it outright, b-but in context, it makes sense! See, an old earth pony tradition has been making waves around Equestria lately. As a morale booster, the Consortium is looking to incorporate it as an official yearly event!"

"Earth pony tradition?" Moonlight echoes.

"Indeed! In broad terms, the tradition is a set of games that teams play competitively! This newer incorporation the Consortium is planning adds activities for every race of pony! Fun for the whole family! But, in order to ensure fair-play, spectators mustn't hamper with the players. Unicorn magic has a very notorious standing with under-hoofed play, so every unicorn spectator must have their magic suppressed while they watch!"

Moonlight pouts her lips, nodding at the clear reasoning. "When does the Consortium plan on hosting this event?"

"Nu-Not anytime soon, I would think! This isn't even public information yet! They are still getting the details scratched in, and one of them is that magic suppression ring. The sooner I can get it worked out, the sooner the games can begin!"

"The ring does sound much less malicious in context," Moonlight smiles, receiving an earnest chuckle from Magnifying.

"Context is always important! -- Which reminds me! I'm at a cross-road with my progress. See, I studied the report you wrote about reverse enchanting magic."

"The... the one I wrote nine years ago?"

"The very one! Do you remember your section on magic absorption and redistribution?"

"O-Of course."

"Well, I figured I could compose this nullifying ring using that same principle. Instead of outright halting the flow of magic in a unicorn, which can prove very dangerous for the unicorn's health, the ring could absorb any charged magic and use it to make the ring glow."

"The ring would glow because it's discharging magic passively, correct? Perhaps with a closed circuit?"

"Right on the dot! Gh-Gosh, you're so intelligent, Moonlight!"

"Oh?" Moonlight's cheeks redden again, she's unable to keep her eyes focused on him without feeling worse. "Thankyou." It's very apparent that she was never good at handling praise. She takes a second to accept the compliment as best she can, let the strike of embarrassment run its course, then returns to pondering. "... That all sounds completely feasible. What's wrong with your process?"

"I don't know! That's what I'm currently attempting to solve! I suppose the context in which you wrote it eludes me. I tried several iterations of magic absorption, but none of them can keep a closed circuit! ... I... accidentally gave Swirl a headache when I asked her to be a tester for a prototype. The magic she channeled just... shot right back into her! Right through her horn!" Moonlight cringes and lowers her ears to her head. "I tested another on myself, and the ring nearly combusted! It was so hot, it almost melted and stuck onto my horn!"

"Uck," Moonlight clenches her teeth as she digests the uncomfortable imagery. She shakes her head repeatedly, "Th-That all doesn't sound right, the redistribution shouldn't be causing those kinds of reactions. ... Could... could I take a look at what you have currently?"

Magnifying's brows raise high and his eyes beam. "Ye-Yes! Of course, Moonlight, I-I would be honored! Right-- Right this way!" He trots frivolously to his office, and Moonlight walks with a tiny smile behind him.

She feels a small notch of familiarity in the air, as if she remembered what it was she used to do here. She fixes herself on the idea that all of her lingering anxiety will fade away once she reattains her rhythm. Despite how long she had been gone, her passion had always remained here.

‎

~~~<

‎

Moonlight has been studying Magnifying's notes very carefully for the past twenty minutes, occasionally asking him for help from his sloppy penmanship. She reads intently, adjusting her glasses every so-often...

... and Magnifying admires. He doesn't really realize it, but he's kept his eyes plastered on her the whole time. He can't find it inside of him to look away, it would hollow him out if he did. The simple act of resting his gaze on her soft face makes him feel warm and complete. He even adores her nervous antics of stroking the locks of her mane or shifting her glasses, the very same ones she did when she was younger.

It's starting to fully dawn on him that she's here. Moonlight is really here, sitting but feet away from him. He could reach out and touch her, and he'd feel her. That glistening coat of hers. Her perfectly-kept mane that shines every light thrown its way. Her small muzzle, the harbor for that heart-stoppingly cute sneeze she does when working with powdered material. And her lips, so delicate and charming. The way they move as she is speaking to him...

... the way they move as she is speaking to him.

"Glass!" Moonlight repeats for the fourth time.

"Eh-Yeh-Aah-- Y-Yes, Moonlight?" he staggers and chuckles crookedly.

Moonlight realizes that he wasn't listening, and her expression glooms slightly. "... I'm... I'm not boring you, am I? I-I know I have a habit of ranting, so please, if I--"

"NO!" he shouts, causing Moonlight to reel a bit. "N-- No no, Moonlight, not at all! I'm-- I'm just... ehehe... w-what you were saying earlier was so enlightening as a matter of fact, it caused me to think in overdrive! I-I, heh, maay have missed what you just asked me because of that," he lies through his teeth, giving her a large, guilty smile.

"Oh! Well, um... I was just asking you what type of material you used for the enchanting object. It doesn't look like you wrote that down anywhere."

"The rings...?" he halts for a second to recall. "Platinum! Platinum for the first one, then steel for the second one."

"... You switched material?" Magnifying nods. "... Why?"

"Um, uuh... w-what do you mean?"

"Why would you switch the material? That causes another inconsistency with the results of the experiment. ... You do know that enchantment spells have adverse effects depending on the material you use, correct?"

"... They do?"

Moonlight smiles trepidly and nods, "I even wrote about it in that same reverse enchanting paper of mine you read..."

"..." Magnifying becomes flushed and he face-hoofs with force. "I'm such an idiot! That must have been the missing context!"

"Nu-no, it's okay, you're not an idiot! I-I must have written it strangely. I was very young when I wrote it. I completely get it if you didn't understand that part."

Magnifying nods sheepishly and chuckles the same way. "T-That might have b-been it," he states wobbly, extending the truth quite a bit.

"We-Well... next time, Magnifying Glass, please use the same material for the same enchantment. I was unable to pin-point the cause of your experiment's undesirable outcomes, but I'm certain you will garner more valuable data if you keep running tests... without another inconsistency in the mix."

"W-Will do! Certainly will do! Hohowow, amazing advice! You're amazing, Moonlight!" Moonlight's lips curl to a small smile while she bashfully looks away.

... And now he finds himself ogling her again, at that tiny little blush on her blue cheeks. He draws bewilderment from her presence again, finding it incredible that she's right there in front of him. He almost feels the need to hit himself just to make sure he isn't dreaming. After so many years apart, countless festering emotions, and suppressed drama, this certainly feels like a dream.

She's staring at him now. The two share quiet eyes with one another. Moonlight purses her lips, feeling a bit anxious that Magnifying is just staring and staying quiet again. She can't shake the feeling that he's judging her... seeing everything she has done wrong just by looking. She tries to find something that might divert his attention again, and she finds the box of food that he left at the end of the table they sit at. With a clearing of her throat, she leans to the side and points at the lunchbox. "D-Did you plan on eating that?"

"... Huh?" His expression restores its cognition and he looks to where she is pointing. "... Oh! Right! My lunch. I completely forgot about it. Uuuh... did... did you want it?"

"Oh, um, n-no, that's not what I was asking. It just feels like I was interrupting you from eating..."

"No, no! It's no problem! I-I wasn't even that hungry earlier. But it-it's probably cold now, I'll go heat it up again."

Moonlight nods sheepishly, "I'll get out of your mane then. I'm certain you're going to be very busy."

"Busy? ... Busy! Right, with the, uh... experiments." He feels a clot building in his throat. Moonlight is about to get up and leave the labs. He wants to... ask her something before she does, but it's proving extremely difficult.

"It was-- ... it was nice seeing you again, Magnifying Glass. I'm sorry if I was a little... bumbly... I'm still getting used to being in Canterlot again."

"Yeh-- Yeah..." It still won't come out. A blockade has formed in the back of his mouth and his chest is on fire. Moonlight is getting up from her stool, readying to leave, and he can't get it out.

She turns towards the exit and walks. Her horn gleams with its pink aura as she takes her hood into her magic, unwrinkling it so she can throw it on. She steps under the archway and prepares her hood... the moment he's waited nearly a decade for is here. It's about to slip. She's making her exit. Nine years apart...

"... Moonlight?"

She comes to a halt and turns her head to look back at him. "... Y-Yes?"

"Ou-Out of... curiosity... uuh..." he swallows a rock, "wo-would there, by chance, be a..." Moonlight furrows her brows in concern as he fumbles his words horribly. "In... In the odds that you're free... would... would you like to... get d-dinner... with me? Tomorrow night?" Moonlight's eyes widen at his request. She stands stumped for a moment as her brain tries to cope with the question. Magnifying can feel his stomach digesting itself from her silence.

"... T-That sounds... nice," Moonlight trepidly replies.

Magnifying's pupils dilate and he sits up completely straight. "R-... Really!? Wuh-Well-- ... g-great! Great, ahah! Th-Then, I'll see you t-tomorrow night, Moonlight! I-I'll s-stop by your room!"

Moonlight's legs begin to tremble, but it's hardly noticeable from under her robes. Lacking the fortitude to verbally reply, she nods with a quivering smile. Trying her best not to trip over herself, she walks out of the labs.

Magnifying watches her leave. Once she does, he turns on his stool to stare at his notes. He stares at them, but fails to actually look at them, all while his pupils tremble and his heart flutters. "... She... she said yes. Moonlight..." He then looks up, staring forward at nothing. A wide, opened-mouth smile grows on his face as he internalizes what just happened. He breaks into a wild laughter of joy and he rocks his stool left and right. "SHE SAID YES! HAHAA! SHE SAID YES!"

‎

~~~<

‎

After what seemed like an eternity of walking, Moonlight enters her room and shuts the door behind her. She pulls off the hood of her robes with her magic and she stands completely still. Her body autonomously holds its posture as she cycles what she just did. She agreed to eat dinner with Magnifying. She agreed to something she didn't even give a grain of thought to. She was so crippled with embarrassment that her mouth spoke on its own.

She doesn't want to leave the Castle, and she most definitely doesn't want to enter the city. She already knows that he's going to take her there, probably to a soup and noodle joint that has been the Royal Researchers' hangout for generations. If not there, it'll be some other restaurant in the shopping district, a place that's always full of wandering tourists and city-folk.

Her body's heating up. She can't stand the robe anymore. She pulls it off with her magic, shaking her head to get it through the collar and leaving her mane slightly muddled. She folds her robe quickly and sets it on a shelf next to the door. The creeping tinge she is feeling is starting to get worse every passing second. She doesn't want to cancel on Magnifying after she agreed to his offer, but the city...

"... Note! A note! I-I'll send him a note." She turns her gaze left and right across her lab tables. She spots the writing materials required at the desk closest to the staircase and hastily trots towards it. She sits down on a stool and begins levitating everything simultaneously. "He'll still be in his office. I'll just teleport the scroll to his desk. It'll be fine, it'll be fine! No need to worry, Moonlight... no need to worry."

She begins scribbling down a needlessly formal letter to Magnifying Glass, using very ambiguous terms that describe she doesn't feel very well and would prefer not to go into the city. She instead asks if the dinner could be held in her room.

The whole time she is writing the letter, she bites her lower-lip and strokes the left lock of her mane, hoping that she isn't being a nuisance to him. As the guilt wells up inside her, so do formerly suppressed emotions...

It's beginning again...

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~ White Tail Mountains, Inner Passage ~<
February 5th, Thursday, 15:44

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‎

"Pleease," Banter groans. "Please, just shut up already. I beg of you."

"Seriously," Fawl concedes. "One or two songs would have been fine. You two've been singing for over half an hour. Give it a fucking rest."

"Hehey, it's not my fault Strix knows so many good songs!" Tawl laughs merrily.

"Oh!" a thought strikes Strix, "do you know the one about the apple farmer?"

"Ooo. Could you teach it to me? Pleasepleaseplease?-- ... Hnh!?"

Tawl interrupts herself when the ground begins to vibrate. Everyone halts and darts their eyes around quickly.

"What in tartarus was that?" Banter questions tensely.

"Floor went 'n shook," Bulletpoint squints.

"What's going on?" Strix asks as she steps in circles.

"... I sure hope it ain't what I think it is," Crimson mutters. Eyes shoot to him due to his statement, signaling for his wisdom. "... Dynamite. Probably gelatin. More potent than black powder. Used it all the time when I worked back in an ol' mine. Reckon them Sleepers up there already won the fight 'n are bombin' the remains."

"Indeed," the lieutenant agrees without emotion, "I fear that this is the case. If we do not hurry, the entire shaft will collapse on us."

The ground trembles violently again, this time, disturbing the infrastructure by breaking pebbles off of the ceiling and walls.

Snowfall grits her teeth, "If we're not too late already! Double time!"

Everyone kicks into high gear, tunneling down the dimly lit shaft as tremors from above continue to disturb the stability of the tunnels. Rocks of increasing size fall and tumble around the group as they move, causing them to swerve and maneuver around to avoid being struck. Their path begins to diverge into many forks, most of them with only two break-offs. The lieutenant does well to guide them through the progressively-confusing maze that this shaft is becoming.

They keep running and running through this seemingly endless web of rocky paths with no clear indication that the exit is approaching. Fawl is starting to become restless, driving his eyes to the lieutenant at the front. "How much farther till the exit!?" he asks in a shout.

"We are three-fourths of the way there," the lieutenant replies with a raised voice, but without tonal shift. "If we continue at this rate, we should be greeted by the exit in--"

A massive explosion that can be heard even this far into the mountain thunders off. The shaft can no longer hold, and many sections begin to crumble down completely. It happens from behind them first, the upper-levels of the shaft are the first to fall in ruins. With beating hearts and panting breaths, the group hastens their speed, running towards another fork in the path. But the fork becomes unstable as soon as the lieutenant draws near...

"SHIT!" "IT'S COMIN' DOWN!" Both Bulletpoint and Crimson cry out. The lieutenant sees a shadow encompass her; by the time her eyes turn upward, a mass of rocks fall down upon her. Her vision flashes, and it all goes dark.

...

A brief silence overtakes the ambiance... it seems that the structural collapse from the grand explosion has ended... for now.

"CRIMSON!" Strix's muffled voice is heard shouting from the other side of the collapse.

"RED! MATE! CAN YOU HEAR US!? ... FUCK!"

He hears them, but it's a little hazy. Not including the solid wall of rubble that separates him from the rest of the group, their voices are a bit difficult to hear. His ears are ringing for some reason. He slowly lifts his head with a grunt, taking a moment to assess his surroundings... and he recalls it quickly.

He looks down, seeing the lieutenant in his arms. He sits on the floor of the mine, resting his back against the wall. He holds the lieutenant's head against his chest, and just as he expected, she's unconscious.

As the mass of rubble fell from the ceiling upon her, he dove forward to catch her low to the ground. He shifts his gaze to see the gnarly skid-marks on his left arm where he slid across the ground, effectively shredding his duster sleeve. While impact-resistant, the duster sure didn't fair well against friction.

Crimson's dive for the lieutenant saved her, but unfortunately, one of the rocks from the falling rubble hit her in the head just before the rest came down. She was already knocked out before she knew what had happened. At least she's still in one piece. Had Crimson not dove and tackled her out of the way, she would have been crushed by the worst of it.

He feels a pulsing pain on the back of his head, accompanied by the ring in his ears. Though the dive was good enough to save her, he put a little too much power into it and it caused him to skid across the rock ground, halting only by smacking the back of his head and shoulders against the wall of the shaft. ... No matter. His target was rescued successfully, and the impact didn't cause any boulders to come down on him. A headache is a small price to pay.

He can still hear the shouting voices of his teammates from across the rubble that separates them... he feels like he should respond soon.

"... Yeah, 'm here!" Crimson finally calls back. A pile of relieved sighs come from the other side.

"Crimson!" Tawl and Strix both call emotionally.

"What got into you, you crazy fuck!?" Bulletpoint shouts angrily.

"Is the lieutenant still alive!?" Snowfall asks with pure composure.

Crimson briefly looks down, hearing uneasy, quick breaths emit from the unconscious griffon in his hold. "... Yeah!"

"Good! We don't exactly know the way out of here! We're assuming that the detonations are over, so we're going to scout around for a way out! Hopefully we're not cut off from this side! Don't stray, understood!?"

"Got it!" Crimson acknowledges.

"We'll be back for you, Crimson!" Tawl announces warily. Her concern for him brings a small smile to his face. He then hears them speak among each other, probably formulating a course of action. He can't understand them if they're not shouting so he decides to take it easy for now.

He looks back down at the steely lieutenant... it almost seems like she's trying to run from a fever. Her breathing is terribly uneasy and her body is moving slightly. Crimson's expression hardens in apprehension. It's very likely that she has suffered some degree of brain damage and now her body is autonomously reacting to the impairment.

... He isn't sure it'll work here. He hasn't ever tried it with something like the brain. ... Maybe it's the same thing? ... He hopes it is.

With uncertainty and slightly-wavered focus, he furrows his brows. His eyes sheen with radiant gold and he holds the lieutenant firmly.

"... Nrh," Crimson clenches his teeth. As he channels to give himself up to her, he quickly realizes that this is possible, but costly. The damage done to such a sensitive, practically irreparable part of the body demands more of him than any other wound. Though he isn't about to let that stop him. He briefly loosens his hold on her as he reaches his left hand to lift his right sleeve up to his bicep. He reattains hold of her... and gives it what he's got.

"Rrh!" The skin on his right forearm begins to die and split open, it feels as if a spinning buzz-saw was being applied to his flesh. Blood quickly drips from his fresh wounds, but he doesn't relent. His resolve is supported through the lieutenant's reaction, he can feel her stabilizing. He continues to transfer his cells into her body, letting his intelligent gift rearrange his molecules into the DNA pattern belonging to her. The golden orbs travel through her blood-stream and up into her head, where they bond to the damaged grey-matter, consume it, and take its place as if it were never damaged.

"Hn, nh-nnh..." the lieutenant moves her head slightly and her browline furrows. Her eyes remain closed, but her breathing returns to a regular rhythm. The random flinching stops and she relaxes against him. She's still out cold though.

Crimson's eyes cease their glowing as he reaches to pull down his right sleeve. He examines what it costed him, eyeing the quick dripping of his blood from his forearm onto the rock floor. He deems it trivial and yanks his sleeve right back to his wrist.

He supposes he should let go of the lieutenant now since she's no longer prone to death... but it'll be amusing to witness her reaction to being held, if any, once she wakes. From the sounds coming from the other side of the rubble, or the lack thereof, the team has gone off to look for another route of escape. He figures he'll sit tight for now. He avoids resting the back of his head against the wall behind him as it still hurts, and judging from the odd dampness on his hair, he's probably bleeding there from stopping his slide with it. It just gives him an excuse to continue looking down at the lieutenant.

He lets his mind run amok, riding him across random tangents for a length of time.

A month in already. Just over a month. He's been in this land some time now, yet many things still come as a surprise. He feels as if he hasn't even scratched the surface yet, and he's probably right. The surreal nature of the situation he's in is clamping down on him as he moves his eyes across the emotionless griffon's face. Her silver and white coloration is simple but appealing. Her feathers are preened and shiny, save for a few small parts that are pink, featherless, and scarred, possibly due to her history. She definitely looks like the battle-hardened type.

Oddly enough, her unconscious form is much better at displaying emotion than her conscious one. She looks practically lifeless while awake. She probably does it on purpose. There's gotta be a reason behind the act.

"... Hmh," Crimson hums subconsciously through his muse. Something that he had completely forgot about returns to mind... or rather, someone.

"Mmnnh..."

Crimson's brows raise at the lieutenant's emission. He returns from his thinking, realizing time had skipped him by. The lieutenant seems to be coming to, her eyelids close tightly and tremble. Her slightly hung mouth grits its teeth but remains open. She might be going through some remnants of pain, all flooding back to her as she returns to the waking world.

Her vision is a terrible blur as she opens her eyes, it feels as if everything is shifting diagonally. She lets her eyes adjust before she bothers looking around. Silently and without much movement, she takes in her surroundings. With an ounce of effort on her face, she lifts her head to look up at the creature who holds her... and she stays staring at him with her uncaring expression.

Crimson isn't sure what he was expecting, but he supposes this fits. She doesn't appear to be getting angry, but she looks far from pleased. Her eyes reattain the sharp, steely look they are known for.

"Good to see you awake," Crimson says with a wry smile. She doesn't reply, she only stares. Her eyelids slowly fall and raise for a condescending blink. "... You, uh... you feelin' alright?"

"No. Though, I am still alive. I presume you are the reason for it."

"Yeah."

"The foretold human of great capability. Now I see that you are more than a mere fable."

"That's oddly kind of you to say."

"There was no compliment in my words, I speak only the truth. No worthless creature could have saved me from my burial under stone... and I assume you did this because you require my assistance."

Crimson raises his left brow. "Nah," he shakes his head, "I did it because you were about to die. Wasn't about to let that happen."

"... How quaint," she mutters lackluster, obviously not believing him. "You work for the Equestrian Royal Guard. I can only infer your actions were decided by that fact."

"Quite a lot of assumptions yer putting me up against. You know what they say about assuming, Silvershade." The lieutenant... squints at him. Crimson lights up with amusement at this, the very first semblance of emotional reaction she has displayed.

"It is not assumption, it is fact. I will now demand that you release me at once."

"I don't think that'd be a good idea."

"I am not your toy."

"You're still alive right because of me holdin' you," Crimson states his... half-truth. She doesn't have to continue making physical contact to stay alive, but she'll definitely feel horrid without it.

"Your statement leads me to believe that your hold is maintaining my stability. Preposterous."

"But it is! Ch, alright then. Wanna find out yerself?" The lieutenant nods firmly. Crimson exhales deeply and sits himself up, shifting his legs so he rests on his knees. He holds the lieutenant up like one would a housecat and he smirks at her.

"... Your humor is wasted. Unhand me." Her voice is becoming low and growly... Crimson feels that if she wasn't currently weak and exhausted, he wouldn't be getting off with just words.

Crimson does as she says and lowers her down to the ground, her feline hindlegs are the first to rest lazily against the rock as her body comes down. He sits her down on her flank but keeps his arms under her armpits for a moment longer, making sure she is properly seated. No dropping, no throwing, no tricks. If she can sit on her own, this is the time for her to prove it. Crimson lets go.

"... Mnh!" The sensation she was taking for granted disperses when he removes his hands. The shock of reality hits her without remorse, causing her left abdomen to arch inward instantly. She keels forward, landing on Crimson's legs. She clenches her beak in frustration, her body doesn't respond to the commands she gives it. Only then does she realize that her entire form is numb, and while not impossible, moving is proving very difficult. She gives Crimson a begrudging stare once she understands that what he said might have been true.

"Told ya'."

"... Yes. You did." She lowers her eyes to his chest, biting her beak in resignation.

Crimson smiles a little, respecting the fact that she at least knows when its best to give ground. He reaches forward and takes a hold of the lieutenant to bring her back towards him, her eyes open a little in surprise as he does.

She didn't expect to be reattained by the human, much less forgiven. A wave of tranquility embodies her as he pulls her in, the same sensation that she previously ignored. Just as before, he rests her against his body and keeps his arms wrapped around her.

"This is not necessary," she utters quietly, "... and highly inappropriate. I could not ask that you--"

"Just roll with it fer now."

"I've suffered through more alone. I am not succumbing to weakness by allowing you to cater to me."

"But you're not alone right now. I'm here. Now quit fussin', you need to get your energy back."

"..." the lieutenant squints, but keeps her eyes lowered to the ground. "... You are very difficult to understand."

"I get that a lot."

"You are apart of a different faction. You recklessly endangered yourself to rescue me. My own kind would struggle to do such a thing."

"Listen, I'm not officially listed with the Guard. I work alongside 'em, not as one."

"... But then, we have not been acquainted for longer than an hour, yet you still acted upon my jeopardy."

"Yeah?" Crimson questions, knowing already that he's heard this before.

"I cannot comprehend your motives."

"I already told you what they were. 'F you don't wanna believe me, that's yer prerogative."

The lieutenant's fixed and serious stare slowly returns to its stoic nature. She begins to think... and think. "... What business does the Royal Guard have with you if you are not apart of them?"

"Not sure I'm free to talk about that."

"If you are unable to speak about it, then you are under contract. You are apart of the Guard, human."

"I'm not. I only reckon it ain't a great idea to yammer on about shit that don't specifically pertain to me."

"Then allow me to rephrase my question. What business do you have with the Guard?"

"I'm lookin' to find out what's been causin' some sorta disturbance in Equestria lately. Ain't sure if you've heard of it, but apparently some 'magical anomalies' are causin' a mess of trouble."

"I have heard. I have yet to see any of these alleged anomalies, as well as any Featherline scouts. I conclude that they are non-existent."

"That's not a very smart thing to conclude, Silvershade."

She lifts her head to eye at him. Crimson smirks slightly in return. "Then you have seen them, since you claim they exist."

"No, I haven't seen 'em, but I'm not waitin' around until I do. Whether you believe it 'r not, there's some shit out there that's gonna grow into a big problem if we don't stop it. If I don't stop it."

"A fruitless endeavor of chasing shadows," she states coldly.

Crimson sighs, stopping himself from trying to argue further. "Sure. Believe what'cha want."

"So you do not deny that they possibly do not exist." Crimson remains silent, keeping his tired expression faced somewhere away from hers. "Have you not considered that the leads you are given by your pony overlords are erroneous? You would waste your time, energy, and potentially your life for a cause that would end in nothing, all because of this pony-rumor? Is this what you are telling me?"

"Yeah."

The lieutenant gazes at him in silence, tilting her head slightly. She moves her eyes across his front, examining his details from close up. She is attracted to the scar that runs across his face, from the corner of his right lip to the top of his right ear. "... Your resolve is admirable." Crimson turns his eyes back to her, staring boredly. "The possibility of your task being for naught does not deter you from completing it. You would make a very good addition to the Featherline power."

"If I wasn't intent in joinin' the Royal Guard, what makes you think I'd be green with joinin' yer gang?"

"I already assumed you would deny the offer... but it still stands. You would add much-needed cohesion to the Featherlines."

"Not interested."

"Then what is the purpose of your endeavor if not to facilitate a faction's strength?"

"The purpose? I want this world to be safe. Safe for those that I care for. This ain't some sorta political trick, and as a matter of fact, politics can go straight to hell. This is about us," he gently squeezes the lieutenant's shoulders. "You. Me. We, who inhabit this world. It don't matter what flag yer wavin', if it's the one that aims to keep everyone free and alive, you're on my team. I ain't gotta join a 'faction' fer that."

"How naive," the lieutenant hums. Crimson drives a bitter stare towards her... but... he sees a very, very slight smile on her beak. A smile that looks so out-of-place in her air. A smile that looks... appealing. "... But noble. Your words cause me to reminisce at my youth. ... Like many Featherlines, I was born into their ranks. From the day I broke free from my egg, I was a Featherline. I did not understand many of the ideals that we held, but we were always told that we fought for freedom. At some point, we did. Many decades ago, when my kind was oppressed under its old king in Griffonstone, many of us turned to each other for safety and strength. The early remnants of the Featherline were created due to this struggle, but we could never gather enough strength to overthrow the king. After several pioneers returned from Equestria with word that pony-kind was willing to sign a truce with our forming militia, several families migrated to Equestria to begin a separate stronghold. It was with this new generation of freedom-fighters that we were able to gather the strength to rebel against the old king and overthrow him."

Crimson listens intently.

"After Griffonstone was free from the old king's reign, our land became hospitable again. It was a grand era for griffon-kind. Though many griffons returned to the homeland after the civil war concluded, quite a number of us remained in Equestria. After a prominent organization here heard about our victory, they offered to take us in under their harbor. We were required to assimilate to their instruction, but we could not refuse their aid in such a resource-limited time. It was an era of true freedom and flourish. Our young could be brought into a world without fear or oppression."

"And I reckon them 'Black Horseshoes' helped y'all out after yer war."

"They did. ... The way you spoke their name. You harbor resentment towards them, yes?"

"... Nah. I don't really know 'em... least, I don't think I do. But, back to the Featherlines. Call it a hunch, but the group yer tellin' me about don't sound like the same group I saw earlier. Y'know, the one that was necking prisoners."

She nods slowly, "Correct. What you witnessed is the Featherlines as they are today. Conclude what you will, this is necessary, and I will continue to do what is necessary. The Featherlines were much different many decades ago. I was not alive to witness that age, but the stories are ingrained into all of us. It is why I am currently telling all of this. The words you spoke reminded me of this futility. When I was younger, these stories gave me hope. They gave me a reason to believe that we were the allies of the world, that our goals were noble." She turns away... and smiles very slightly again. "... I was naive. I know better now."

"You were naive, huh? In yer youth? ... What was it like growin' up fer you, Silver?"

"... Refrain from using my name," she says with seriousness... which doesn't hold up forever, "... if you please. I do not want to over-go the story of my youth. It is of no importance now. ... But, you have done well to appease to me. It has been quite some time since I have spoken to someone in such a manner as this."

"You could change that, y'know. The hard 'n serious attitude you've got, you can turn it over fer one that leaves you more approachable."

"... Your input is noted, but misguided. I choose to keep myself this way, and that's how I will remain. It is nothing personal to you. That being said, I will boldly shift the attention of this conversation from myself to you." Crimson raises his left brow. "The mission you have set out for yourself is, in my own words, foolish and pointless. Though, I see that you are willing to commit to this decision without falter. If this mission is to be accomplished, I believe you are the one to do it. I care not for who can accomplish a mission, but for who will. You have done well to earn my trust with not only your words, but your actions. The act of saving my life solely because you cared for my health is one proof, but the simple fact that you successfully saved me is another. Your kind is rare, those who are unconditionally generous, and most importantly... competent. ... Be cautious that your disposition is not taken advantage of."

"It won't. Not anymore."

The lieutenant keeps his eyes on him for a moment longer before she looks down towards the brown messenger bag that is still at her hip. Crimson glances between her and the bag, getting the hint to turn her over. He turns her to rest against his left arm, keeping her belly up. The lieutenant clenches her beak as she demands that her body moves. She succeeds at raising her arm towards the bag, unclipping it and reaching in to pull something out.

Crimson sees that she takes out a scroll of parchment, the same scroll she rolled up at her desk before retreating into the cellar. She gives it weakly, offering it to Crimson. He takes it with his right hand, holding it by the top end to fling it open. Of course, he can't understand a word of what's written, so he looks down at the lieutenant. "What's this?"

"A lead."

"Hm?"

"You see, the relic your captain was after pertained to a set. I did not lie to her when I said all possible leads to it were lost... but I refrained from telling her that a lead to another relic in the set was found. This letter details everything that there is to know. It is a written report that I have to deliver to my commander, but... it was destroyed during the confrontation with the Sleeping Talons. Yes?"

"... Yeah," Crimson nods once.

"Present this to your captain. I do not care if you admit this was my doing or not. ... No. As a matter of fact, I'd prefer that you kept my aid to you confidential."

"How come?"

"I ask of you this simple request. Do not fail me."

"..." Crimson looks at the scroll a little longer. He rears it down to his thigh and rolls it up with one hand, moving to stick it into the inner chest pocket of his duster. "I won't."

"... Then, may I ask one more favor?"

"Shoot."

"Your name."

"Crimson," he states with a smile. "Now you do me a favor 'n keep that name to yerself."

"Understood."

"Thanks. ... It's a pleasure to meet you, Silvershade."

"... Likewise."

Both of them suddenly turn their attention to incoming voices, called out from their side of the shaft down the tunnel. It seems there in another part of the web, but they've found a way around.

"Crimson!" Strix's voice draws closer.

"You around here?" Snowfall calls after.

Crimson looks down at the lieutenant, and her up to him. They still hold each other closely. "So, uh," Crimson begins, "I lied to you about needin' to hold me. You'll be fine on your own, if you want me to put you down."

"... A lie, hm?"

"A half-lie. You'll feel worse if I can't hold you, but you'll live."

"I believe it is appropriate that you compensate me for your distastefulness."

Crimson's lips curl to a cheeky smile. "Fair enough. I'll carry you. How's that sound?" She nods once with bemusement... maybe just on the outside. "Just pretend you're passed out, it'll make things a little less awkward."

"Not necessary. Make nothing of this."

"... Right."

Self-Preservation is a Mustn't

~ Equestria, the Passenger Train ~<
February 5th, Thursday, 19:56

‎

Muffled clacks resonate as the train moves along the rails under the young night, making its trail back to Canterlot. The Elite squad ride inside this unpopulated passenger cart, sitting near the boarding doors.

After safely making their exit from the Smokey Mountains, they traveled along a dirt road that led them towards the White Tail junction, passing by the small town that was ruined by dragon fire. They waited at the station until twilight, when the train would make its next round before midnight. The team boarded promptly, tired and musky from lugging their weapons and gear for several hours.

In the cart, Bulletpoint and Strix sit together, talking quietly between each other. Banter and Swirl are seated just in front, facing towards them, and keep to their own thoughts. On the seats behind Bulletpoint and Strix sit Crimson and Snowfall, with Snowfall pressed against the man's side since he takes up too much of the seat. Snowfall doesn't seem to mind, so neither does he. At the very back of the cart Tawl and Fawl sit together, with Tawl resting against her brother while they both sleep.

Silvershade was aboard the train with them not long ago and rode with them for a little over an hour. With enough energy regained from the trip, she made her lonesome exit as soon as they arrived to the mid-land Equestria junction. It was an uneventful departure for the Elite squad, save for the red-haired man. He saw an inconspicuous smile thrown his way on her little beak while she passed him on her way out of the cart, and it was acknowledgement enough to satisfy him. He isn't sure whether they'll ever meet again, but he hopes they do, perhaps under better circumstances.

The whole ride has been very quiet with most of the noise coming from Strix and Bulletpoint after Silvershade had left. Snowfall, Banter, and Swirl tried to pull as many answers out of Silvershade when she was here, but it was fruitless. She remained a locked box of mysteries, leaving them in a very serious and contemplative state.

Crimson hadn't said much throughout, he has been waiting for a good opportunity. Now that Silvershade is gone, he has one. He wants to present something to Snowfall, hopefully something worth her attention.

He reaches into the inner chest-pocket of his duster which draws Snowfall's attention his way. He pulls out a rolled scroll of parchment and holds it near his lap. Snowfall's gaze curiously moves from the scroll to his eyes. He wiggles the item in his hand as he says, "Read this fer me. Tell me what it says." He offers it to the snowy mare and she takes it with her hooves, unraveling it and skimming through its contents.

"It's written in Gryphic," Snowfall mutters.

"So they write different even though they speak the same. Figures. Can you understand it?"

"Luckily I do. So does Swirl. It's one of the main trading languages in Equestria, so knowing it is pretty useful. ... Where did you get this?" she returns her stare to him.

"Before we came down the hatch to escape from them Sleepers. Was on the desk."

"You managed to snatch this from the Featherline lieutenant when she wasn't looking?" Crimson smirks slyly, playing along with her assumption. "Hmh. Let's see what we've got." She begins reading the letter aloud, "First Lieutenant Silvershade of the Smokey Mountain White Tail station. This is the follow-up report concerning the rumor of the unidentified artifact. It has been confirmed that the rumor was legitimate, two separate scouting teams returned with identical information. It appears that this relic is a large belt. It is currently under the possession of the yak-kin in the Frozen North, it is on a display pedestal in the center of their village. Negotiations have been less than successful. With the permission of the Big Feather, we shall engage them and appropriate the relic." Everyone in the cart is looking at Snowfall read with astonished fronts, Snowfall herself keeps her resting expression as she rolls the scroll up. "This is quite a grab, Crimson," she mutters as she begins to contemplate.

"What'cha thinkin', cap'n?" Bulletpoint asks.

"I'm thinking that our COA needs a thorough rework. If this information is solid, we'll need to plan our next move immediately."

"For a belt?" Banter asks doubtfully. "What's so special about a belt?"

"This belt could be connected to our primary artifact," Swirl states seriously. "If the Featherline want it, the possibility is very likely."

"Possibility? So you're saying you have no idea either. None of you have any idea. You're all just guessing."

"What if I ask Moonlight?" Crimson inquires, drawing everyone's attention. "I reckon someone like her'd be able to tell us about that belt."

Banter's brows raise with interest. "Now that's a name I haven't heard in a while."

"A sound idea," Swirl agrees. "Head Researcher Wish is very knowledgeable on enchanted artifacts. She may be able to give insight on the matter."

"How soon can you communicate with her?" Snowfall asks Crimson.

"I'm sure I'll be able to talk to her tonight assumin' she ain't already asleep. How long do we got till we reach Canterlot?" he asks as he peers out of the train cart windows, looking into the star-filled night. He sees that they are approaching the base of the Canterlot mountain.

"About half-an-hour," Swirl replies. "I will begin my own investigation immediately upon arrival. Moonlight has offered to fit me with a device, one she believes will aid in this very subject. If she is able to give us information on the belt, this operation should go swimmingly."

"Don't stay up too late, Swirl," Snowfall calls, "tomorrow is closing in, and we're going to be up when the sun is. We're setting up for our next move first thing in the morning after Crimson reports back to us. If this belt turns out to be a hoax, we've still got our plates full with another lead. All we have now is whether to go for one or the other first. We aren't waiting for anything, so we'll need all the rest we can get. Understood?"

"Yes, captain," Swirl replies humbly.

"That goes for all of you. Especially you," she taps Crimson's left thigh with her hoof. "You look far from hot right now. I won't be too upset since we all still have beating hearts in our chest... but this mission could have gone much smoother. You were way out of formation, that barrage of arrows could have killed you. And had we not spent all that time waiting for you to regroup, we wouldn't have had to deal with the cluster of explosives that costed us an entire day."

"... Yeah, I beg yer pardon."

"Saving that griffon lieutenant was a selfless act, but a reckless one too. Your condition is dangerously low, so I'm thinking we'll have you sit out next mission until you fully recover. We are setting aside some time to talk once you do. There's a lot that needs to be said, starting with your personal safety. Once we have our little chat, you'll be back on the team."

Crimson bites his tongue. Little does Snowfall know that the mine crumbling down upon them is the reason why they even have the lead for the belt... and no matter how much he wants to say that, he remembers the promise he made to Silvershade. For whatever it's worth, he stifles his annoyance and replies simply, "Ain't no need fer that, Snowfall."

"Whether or not you think so. This isn't up for debate."

"You're right, it ain't. Because I'll be fine, and that's that. Alright? I ain't sittin' out, there's too much that needs gettin' done."

"Crimson, don't be difficult. You need rest. Sure, you may have saved those griffon siblings, and managed to save the Featherline lieutenant, but that's after the fact. Learning to care for yourself is another element entirely. Even though you're not officially apart of the Guard, I'm treating you like my own. And I'm saying you need rest."

"It ain't necessary. Takin' time to rest will just slow us down. We need all the manpower we can get fer this."

"We do, but regardless. I'd rather be temporarily down a squad mate to let him rest, rather than lose him forever because he couldn't take care of himself."

"Snowfall," he leans closer to her, looming his face just above hers. "I'll be alright. Trust me on this... mmkay?" She blinks up at him with exhaustion in her eyes, her lazy expression stays in place.

"It's not that I don't trust you, this simply isn't a matter of trust. I want to make one-hundred percent sure that you'll be an able body. And for that," she lifts her hoof and places it at his forehead. She gently taps it at every word, "You. Need. Rest." She gently pushes him away. He rocks his own head back in jest, slumping his back against the window of the cart.

"Listen to her, Crimmy," Strix speaks up with concern in her voice. "This is the second time I've had to bandage you up already! Your arm looked like a bear got to it, and the back of your head was a total mess. Please. Be a little more, like, considerate of your well-being..."

"Mind not the scratches, Essie," Bulletpoint begins, "the fuckin' bloke dove under a pile'a fallin' rocks! Them shits were a coat-hair from mashin' him into the ground! For what? To save some ungrateful bitch who wouldn't talk? That ain't right, mate!"

Crimson furrows his brows and looks out the cart window again, refraining from speaking against his ignorance.

"I would also prefer it if you minded yourself," Swirl announces. "You are proving to be a valuable asset to the team. The information you have acquired for us might have potentially saved us weeks of clue searching and field ops. It will be difficult to continue aiding us with this task if you are dead. I advise that you comply to Snowfall's directive and rest your body."

"Crimson, listen," Snowfall starts sympathetically, "I don't have a doubt in my mind that you're capable of laying down your life for your teammates. But that's just it, I don't want you in do-or-die scenarios. If we put our chips where they matter, we'll avoid unnecessary casualties. Right now, the table is set for you to sit the next one out."

Crimson sighs and looks towards Snowfall again, giving her a stern set of eyes. "If somethin' else happens to me, I'll sit 'n listen to a speech from each'a you. You can set all the rules you want... but not today. Not tomorrow neither. Instead of worryin' about me, let's set our sights on more important matters. The belt should be our main focus right now. If it ain't a tall-tale, we can't afford to be distracted. There's too much to be lost if we get behind. Mm, and I'll also need a run-down on that other lead you got too."

"..." Snowfall lowers her brows at him, shaking her head slowly. "You're one stubborn piece of work. Do you know that?"

"Yeah," Crimson smiles slightly. "I'm aware."

"... Alright. Fine. Against my better judgement, I'm allowing you to partake in our next mission. Only because you're right, this belt could set us forward three entire steps. If our researchers can get a hold of a solid magic signature, a lot of missing pieces will fall into place."

"All of this talking is leading me to believe we don't actually know what we're looking for," Banter scowls.

"That sums it up perfectly, First Lieutenant. We don't. For that reason, we need to bring our research team what they need. Once they have a firm grasp on the objective, our job will be that much easier."

"All it would take is one magic print," Swirl declares. "We must first associate the gritty details: the era of the enchantment, the style of the enchantment, and the pony who cast the enchantment. Those three unknowns must be cemented into constants in order for a common signature to be traced. Any other hidden artifacts by this same signature will be much easier to locate and unearth."

"So why are we even looking for the whole set?" Banter questions. "I get the whole 'time-travel' hour-glass containment sci-op. That was our main objective. But this belt? The rest of the set? This wasn't ever specified in the debrief."

"Because of them magic anomalies," Crimson replies. "From what I understand, the magic trace bein' thrown around by those anomalies was the same type of trace found in the hour-glass we went lookin' for. Now that that shit's gone without a lead, we'll need the next best thing, meanin' the other parts of the set. If we can figure out how'da reverse-engineer them artifacts, see what makes 'em tick, I reckon we can deal with the anomalies. ... M'I talkin' sense?" he looks towards Swirl for confirmation, to which she nods firmly... and mildly impressed at that.

"Is that what this is about? The magic anomalies that no pony has seen? Pff, what a waste of time." Everyone, especially Crimson, shoots him a stern look. "What? I mean, really. Swirl. These anomalies haven't been officially registered, right?"

"No, but the damage they have caused is clearly present. The sites of compromise can be easily prodded and studied."

"Okaaay? So why don't you and a bunch of other mages go looking for the anomalies and just dispel them? Wouldn't that be miles easier than this stupid relic hunt?"

"Magic is not that simple, Banter," Swirl retorts severely. "There is no one catch-all method to dispel magic. We must understand the magic being used at a fundamental level, enchantments being the most complex. It would be catastrophic if we accidentally agitated the unruly magic by mindlessly casting spells on it. The solution to this problem requires thorough research and sharp minds."

"Yeah," Crimson agrees. "Like you 'n Moonlight."

"Most in due to Head Researcher Wish. It is why I have such great respect for her. Her knowledge on this subject is unrivaled, and I fully believe we will be able to accomplish our mission with her graceful assistance. I, for one, am grateful that she has returned."

"I can second that," Bulletpoint smiles.

"I can third that!" Strix giggles.

"Huh," Crimson lifts his chin to Swirl. "I'll tell her you said all them nice things." He smiles, almost as if taking the compliments for Moonlight himself.

... But now he finds himself under Swirl's wide-eyed stare. She gawks at him in a frozen anxiousness as her cheeks slightly tint pink and her eyes dilate. "Y... You will what?"

"Tell her what you said."

Swirl springs up with a leap that sends her to the parallel seats of Bulletpoint and Strix, firmly landing between both of them while almost stepping on their haunches. She leans her face towards Crimson's, her trembling eyes stare right into his. "... Do not." Like everyone else watching her become spastic, Crimson looks terribly confused. "... Do not tell her."

"... Why? Not like you're doin' anythin' wrong, all you did is compliment her--"

"She might think I am creepy. Talking about her. Do not tell her I talk about her. ... Do not."

Crimson notes that instead of being blindly enraged and demanding, she's instead pleading. He's fully aware that she's being horribly irrational about this... but he finds something neat about this display in particular. Her constantly unamused eyes are shot open, letting her light-pink irises shimmer much more lively. Instead of the critical gaze she gives everything, she actually looks worried about something for once.

He can't hold his fixed expression for long once he realizes her unadulterated desperation. He reaches forward and pats her smooth bubblegum-colored mane while chuckling heartily. "Ha-ha. Alright, alright, I won't tell her."

Swirl stares at him for a second longer, hardly registering that he's touching her. "Are you being truthful?"

"Swirly!" Strix calls with a pout. "He said he wouldn't! Sit down already!"

"Some things neva change," Bulletpoint muses halfheartedly.

Crimson nods to her firmly, giving one last pat before retracting his hand. He doesn't understand any of it, but he simply replies, "I won't."

Swirl nods quickly back to him looking like she just sucked on a lemon. She turns around and slumps down between Bulletpoint and her sister.

"Mh," Bulletpoint emits a muffled sound, blushing slightly when Swirl's hips rubs against his side since the seat barely fits the three of them. He looks away, finding something interesting outside of the window across the cart. Swirl herself appears to be running mental laps of embarrassment, while Strix smiles at her and pats her back. Banter looks highly displeased at everything he just witnessed.

Snowfall glances towards Crimson with mild amusement, reclining back a little on her seat. "Hmh. You're the first guy I've ever met that really knows how to push her buttons. Swirly is usually a very composed pony. Not sure if I should congratulate you or not."

"Guess I've got a knack fer that kinda thing. I didn't even have to try this time."

"I trust that you won't do anything like this when we're in the field."

"Wouldn't dream of it. At least, not intentionally." His reply doesn't come off as too convincing with the smirk present on his front.

Snowfall rolls her eyes and sits back into her seat, shifting her attention towards the window of the cart past Crimson's face. The man himself also leans back so he doesn't obstruct her view. Snowfall releases a quiet exhale through her nose. "I still think you should take some time to rest... don't make me regret trusting you, Crimson."

Crimson turns to look outside the window as well, watching the base of the mountain draw near. "I won't."

The train tilts back a few degrees as it commences its ascent up the side of the mountain. Canterlot is quickly approaching.

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, East Tower First Floor ~<
February 5th, Thursday, 00:51

‎

Knock-knock-knock

The elegant cobalt doors ring off Crimson's subtle entry into Moonlight's room. He pokes his head in first to scan around. He does not see Moonlight downstairs, but it certainly looks like she was there. A plethora of papers and tools are scattered about her desks, indicating she was hard at work. His attention is quickly nabbed by some sort of viscous, glob-like substance inside of a clear closed-lid flask. It pulsates like a purple heart and gives off a radiant glow of the same color. Whatever it is, it's probably something interesting.

Crimson steps in completely and closes the door behind him. With a careful ear, he listens in on the barely-audible sound of water running upstairs. Seems like Moonlight's in the shower. He's glad that she's still awake even though it is...

He glances up at the large clock above him. It reads 12:55.

... it is very late. He hopes she was not spending hour after hour working at her tables. He feels that's exactly what she did, and probably only took small breaks in between to eat or use the restroom. Nevertheless, he's glad he can talk to her tonight, especially since she didn't look in the highest spirits after he had to leave in the morning.

Without further ado, he strides towards the staircase and heads up to her bed. He sees that her resting place is already prepared, with the bed sheets pulled back and her pillows prompt in their places. She even has Soap sitting at the top of her head pillow, making him the sentry that safeguards over her bed while she is away.

Crimson walks towards the plushy but avoids touching anything. He didn't have time to clean himself or his clothes before arriving, so he deems it best to keep his grime on his own body. He crouches down to level himself out with Soap, taking a good look at the black and white killer whale. It has a silly smile with beady little eyes, it has a very rounded shape, and its tiny little flippers come out the sides of its body in a cute but pathetic manner.

On this plush, the scent of Moonlight can be briefly whiffed, which has become the case for this entire room. The first time he walked in here, it was nothing but dust and dry odor. But now that the room has had its owner breathe it back to life, it's filled with her scent, the same scent he became familiar with back in Baltimare. It's a delicate, pleasant aroma that quickly vanishes after the olfactory registers it. It's a very... girly smell. He can't think of any better way to describe it than that, it doesn't smell like any particular type of flower or thing in nature.

Moonlight isn't a very girly type per se, she's very simple, but feminine subtleties lie in her personality. And he finds that quite charming. It's the perfect balance of being a woman without it being overly autocratic.

... 'Woman,' he rattles the word again in his head. He isn't fully used to this type of thinking yet; it's the type of thinking that pictures these equines in a more-than illustrious light. Unlike him, he's thinking of this willingly. He's done it a few times now, more than not through subconscious thought. He supposes it's sitting oddly in his judgement thinking about things like this solely because she's not a human, the idea that harboring aloft romanticism for something that isn't human is absurd.

Though at this point, he's starting to let himself believe that it shouldn't even matter... perhaps that's just the exhaustion talking. Or maybe it's what he's really feeling. He is peering down a set of binoculars with two different lenses, and he's not willing to try and audit them. Not right now at least. There are many important things to think about. This subject isn't one of them.

His track of thought is luckily disrupted once he hears the water valves close from behind the door, followed after by a glass sliding door opening inside. He reckons Moonlight is about to come out. He switches mental gears so that he saves himself and Moonlight some awkward tension. He stands back up onto his feet and pockets his hands in his duster. He glances at the clock once more, seeing it read about 1:10. He faces the bathroom door again and waits patiently.

Soon, the door opens, presenting a droopy-eye'd unicorn with a towel wrapped around her blue-pink mane. She trails her eyes from the ground to her bed, then to the right of the bed, up until she lands them on the lumbering human. The sleepiness in her eyes is practically dispelled at the sight of him.

"Howdy," Crimson lifts his chin slightly.

Moonlight's expression turns to glee as she trots at an increasing pace towards him, but before she could attach herself onto him, Crimson takes a step back.

"Woah there, Lighty. I'm all dirty. Don't wanna have to make you jump in the shower twice now."

Moonlight's happiness puckers into mild dejection at being denied, but fully understands his concern. "... You're finally back."

"Yeah."

"I was told that you would return by sunset... not midnight."

"There was a hitch in our plans. Nothin' a little extra time didn't solve though."

As Moonlight's wave of awe and giddiness from his return wears off, she begins to scrutinize him. She notes the quality clothes he now dons, but prefers to notice how they are already grimy and worn. His left sleeve is even torn to shreds, with his arm-- "... Crimson."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Please tell me you were careful while you were out."

Crimson doesn't bother replying, he simply stares back... he knows words won't make his obvious damage suddenly disappear.

Moonlight walks towards him until they stand less than a hair apart. She then hops up onto her hindlegs while placing her forelegs at his abdomen. She takes Crimson's arm into her magic aura, gently moving it so it is presented right to her face. Previously white bandages that are stained with blood run wrapped entirely across his forearm all the way up to his deltoid. Her lips purse in distaste and she glances up to his face. "How? How did this happen?"

"I helped somebody out is all."

Her expression becomes vividly sour from his lackadaisical reply. She comes off of his body and falls down to her fours. The magic around his arm travels down like a slimy vestige until it takes a hold of his hand, and she makes him follow behind her when she begins to walk. She leads him towards the bathroom and sits him down on the closed-lid toilet. Crimson releases an elongated exhale through his nose, watching the disappointed unicorn manipulate multiple things with her ethereal hands.

First, she cleanly tears off the ragged strips that had become his left sleeve, leaving the stitching at the shoulder perfectly intact. Then, she simultaneously opens the doors under the sink to acquire a bandage roll while removing his current wrappings. Once the old tatters come off, she looks at his arm... and her ears fall to her head.

"It ain't that bad, Moonlight."

"... The old bruises from your forearms haven't even healed yet... and here you are, getting hurt again. This... this looks awful. So awful..."

Crimson looks down at his arm, seeing the vicious skid-marks that shredded his skin now accompanying the hammer-wounds Snowfall's hooves left a while back. There's no good light to look at this in. Moonlight's right, it looks terrible.

And now she is staring at him, waiting for him to come up with some sort of excuse or soothing words. But before he can try to reply, Moonlight moves to place her right hoof to his left cheek, gently feeling his face. "... You're so pale..."

Crimson's brows raise at this. He's fully aware that he lost quite a bit of blood, but... surely not enough to whiten his tan skin.

But it strikes him... yes, he did. Not because of the skids on his arm, nor the strike at the back of his head, but because of how much of himself he had to give away to stabilize Silvershade.

He actively decided to use skin cells for the transfer, but his Arch mainly converts blood from his stream directly depending on how severe the damage being mended is... and brain damage definitely charged his body a heavy fee. All transferring skin cells did was ease the blood cost.

He wasn't fully aware of how much it really toiled him, he simply did it. It's definitely not the most intelligent thing he's ever done. Had he been in even a slightly worse condition before mending Silvershade, the results might have ended up quite tragic. Instead of one dying body in the White Tail mine, it would have been two.

Moonlight can see the tax of life on his exhausted, bedraggled face. He supposes he understands why Snowfall and the crew were giving him the flak that they did. He hasn't looked in a mirror recently... but he doesn't think he wants to.

With great care, Moonlight proceeds to wrap his left arm, from wrist to delt, with new bandages. The way these fresh wounds aren't staining the wraps immediately with blood makes her heart sink. She isn't even sure how this man is still conscious, let alone walking around and talking.

After she is done tending to him, she stands in between his knees and stays looking at him. Crimson feels the weight of her stare fully, and her being so close to his face leaves little room to look away discretely. He knows she wants him to say something, anything that might be an excuse enough to calm her down...

"I didn't break my promise, did I?" he asks lightheartedly. "First thing I did was come 'n see you." Moonlight still doesn't say anything, the shines in her eyes glisten gently. "... How was yer day? Got a lot of work done, I reckon? Them tables downstairs speak for themselves." Moonlight's expression wavers slightly... just the crack he needed. He chuckles a little, "I wonder how you can stand bein' so close t'me. Don't I smell awful?"

Moonlight's pink orbs finally shift away and a small amount of red builds at her cheeks. "... You do. Please... help yourself to the shower."

"Appreciate the hospitality."

She nods in reply, still too abashed to look at him. She steps away from his front and turns to the door, making her exit and shutting it after.

Crimson examines the shower and sees that his red towel is still hung up next to Moonlight's navy-blue one. He rises from the toilet and begins to undress himself from his dirty clothes. He lets his duster fall onto the ground first, then he moves for his shirt.

As he is getting it over his head, he hears the bathroom door open. He removes the shirt from his face and tosses it to the ground, looking towards the bashful mare with something in her magic. She clears her throat and keeps her eyes on the ground, "I-I have some clothes for you. It-It's sleepwear... s-since... I don't think you want to put your dirty clothes back on."

"Ah. That's mighty generous of you, Lighty. Sure, leave 'em on the sink there. Thanks."

She nods quickly and sets the folded bundle of clothing down, retreating immediately after and closing the door again. Crimson finishes undressing and proceeds to clean himself up.

‎

~~~<

‎

He fits his head through the neck-hole of the shirt, letting it sit properly on his body. After turning his neck to try and examine himself, he opts for the tall mirror above the sink instead. He reaches for his red towel to wipe off some fog from the mirror, then hangs up the towel promptly after. He returns to the mirror and gazes at himself, subtly rotating his shoulders and turning his head. The sleepwear Moonlight gave him consists of a plain red t-shirt and solid-grey pajama pants, and both articles fit perfectly.

His eyes trail from the clothes on his body up to his face... and he gives himself a good long look...

He feels that he has definitely looked better. He does not feel nearly as bad as he looks, but he attributes this to his unnatural tolerance for discomfort. Regardless, the repercussions his lack of self-care will have on him will show in due-time. He already felt it once when he defended Moonlight from that dragon back at White Tail. He couldn't keep his Arch fully channeled for longer than five minutes before he passed out mid-air, and it'll only get worse from there.

He knows he needs a good night of sleep. He doesn't care much for the damage, but being exhausted is setting him back more than anything else... but there's no way he's going to let Viola sit by herself in the Rift. Even though she tells him that she will be okay, that he should rest in the real world, he just can't. Not only would he feel too selfish for doing so, his inability to actually fall asleep is a curse that has followed him since his adolescent years. He may have an idea where it came from, but he doesn't know for sure... and probably never will. So instead of laying in bed, doing nothing but hoping to fall asleep, he'd rather be with Viola.

With a musing sigh, he takes one step back from the mirror. He leans down to acquire his dirty clothes then turns for the door and opens it up, exiting the bathroom in a cloud of misty steam. He sees Moonlight laying on the bed to his left-hand side, her eyes were previously closed until he emerged from the bathroom. She quickly tilts her chin down to look at him, then she sits up completely. She runs her tired eyes up and down his frame, analyzing the clothes she gave to him.

"They fit great," Crimson smiles slightly.

"I'm glad they do," she replies meekly. "... D-Do you like the colors? I wasn't sure what you'd like."

"The colors'r just fine. Especially the pants, I really like 'em."

"Is grey your favorite color?"

"It sure is. What's yers, Moonlight?"

"P-Purple... purple is my favorite."

"Heh. That's my ma's 'n my sister's favorite color too."

"Ooo," Moonlight coos with delight. "It's always captivating to hear about your family. I, um... if it's okay with you, could you... tell me more about them sometime?"

"Positively. Maybe on another night." He looks down at his shirt and pulls it from the bottom, stretching it slightly so it fits snug. "Say, did you make these clothes yerself?"

"N-No, I'm no good with a sewing needle... t-the Royal Tailors made them for me and delivered them upon request."

"Huh, it don't surprise me then, they've got my measurements 'n all... anyways, I know it's late, Moonlight, but can I bother you for one more second?"

"Of course."

"I was curious about somethin' you might be knowledgeable in. There'r rumors about an enchanted belt goin' around. Supposedly the yaks have it. You wouldn't know anythin' about it, would you?"

"Oh! Yes, I have heard of it. I know that the prince of the yaks is not very keen on giving it away. Th-Though, I am not very acquainted with the belt itself, so I may not be of very much help. Was there something in specific that you would like to know?"

"The Royal Guard is assumin' that this belt is somehow connected to the hour-glass we were supposed to nab yesterday."

"... Hmm. If this is the case, then the belt would also be related to the amethyst we obtained from Storm."

Crimson's expression lightens up, "Hey, yer right. That hadn't even occurred t'me. How's progress on that thing anyway?"

"I've succeeded on temporarily extracting the enchantment from the necklace for study."

"Is that what that glowin' purple thing was downstairs?"

"Indeed! It took all day trying to figure it out. The difficult part was finding the right separation method, but now that that's out of the way, studying the enchantment should be simple! I will have all of the details ready by tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night, huh," Crimson scratches the side of his head.

"... Is something wrong?"

"Nah, nah, take yer time. The hope for the Guard was that you'd have an answer immediately, but it ain't no issue. We have somethin' else that needs doin' anyway."

"... I'm sorry that I couldn't be more useful..."

"C'mon, Moonlight, don't do that to yerself. You're already bein' a massive help to us by doin' what yer doin' right now. We couldn't possibly ask fer more. I'll let Snowfall know that we'll have our info soon. Like I said, we might have somethin' else to tend to first, so you've got the time you need. You're doin' just fine, Lighty."

As Crimson was talking, Moonlight grabbed Soap and began to hug him tightly. She holds him at her chest, covering her mouth and muzzle with him, leaving only her eyes to glance to and from Crimson. She timidly nods twice to him and remains quiet.

Having said what needs to be said, Crimson looks towards the staircase, readying himself to make his exit and tell Moonlight goodnight.

... And her ears fall to her head. He glances back to Moonlight quickly, immediately catching a very subtle negative change in her disposition. He also reiterates the point to himself that Moonlight is sleeping on the right side of the bed, leaving the space to her left completely open. The first night she slept here, when she was feeling emotionally low, she didn't think twice about sleeping in the middle. Then, both times he had woken up in her bed back in Baltimare, rather than being on a side, he woke up in the middle. Lastly, on the first day they shared a bed, she had rolled over to the middle once he got up... and all of this leads him to believe that the middle is her natural sleeping location.

He knows he's jumping through a lot of mental hoops to conclude any of this, but he has a feeling he's right... and she's just too shy to try and say it.

Crimson's brows raise, but his exhausted orbs remain half-lidded. "That spot open fer me?" he asks brazenly and without warning.

Moonlight's ears shoot up immediately and her face blushes deeply from behind her plushy. She turns her eyes to the empty spot next to her then back to Crimson. She sees the look in his eyes, realizing that her internal desire was quickly snatched by his quick wit. ... With deep timidity, she looks away and nods quickly.

Crimson smiles, "Then I'll take it. Let me run an errand real quick. Be five minutes."

"... F-Five minutes?" she asks with a hint of uncertainty, returning her gaze to him.

"Maybe even less than that. Keep my spot warm fer me."

She watches him move to take the staircase down, hearing him quietly walk along the floor downstairs until he reaches the door. She fidgets anxiously as she begins to wait for him.

Crimson doesn't close the door to Moonlight's room, he leaves it slightly ajar. He steps out into the rotunda that acts as the annex for Moonlight's room to the rest of the Castle. In this octagon-shaped rotunda, six doors are aligned on the side-walls of each face. From Moonlight's room, he walks towards the farthest door to the right and stands before it. He lifts his knuckle and gently knocks on it.

Some mumbling is heard from the other side, then the door clicks open. Fawl presents himself with a raised left brow, wondering if it's who he expects it to be. And indeed it is. Fawl's expression softens quickly upon seeing Crimson, accompanied by a small smile growing on his beak. "Hey."

"Howdy. You 'n yer sister mindin' the digs?"

"Yeah, they're great. This city is even more unreal up-close than it is looking at it miles and miles away."

"You can say that again. Tawl asleep?"

"Yeah. She couldn't shake the grogginess from the train off very well."

"That's good. Need all the rest you can get. Ya'll finish yer midnight dinner already?"

"I did, but Tawl wasn't very hungry. Got done eating not long after you finished yours and left for that pony's room. It's amazing to think that this castle's got cooks awake at some-fucking-time in the morning. Real good stuff, even though there wasn't any meat."

"Them ponies sure do know good eatin'."

"I guess. I'm not used to any of this. Heck, some little grey pony with purple hair came to pick up the plates for us. Sure is fucking weird having someone catering to you."

"At first, yeah. You'll get used to it."

"Aaah... I don't think we will," Fawl turns his eyes to the ground.

"Canterlot not strikin' yer fancy?"

"It's not really that, this place is incredible... just, I don't think we can get used to living around ponies. Tawl and I were thinking we'll take the express train out of Equestria and head to Griffonstone. We can probably start something new there."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't sound very sure of yerself."

Fawl sighs. "Yeah, Tawl doesn't wanna go to Griffonstone. We weren't exactly born and raised there so she's got her reservations. Of course, that won't stop her from following me if I leave, but I know she doesn't wanna go. Thing is, we don't really have anywhere else..."

"I already got you permission from the Guard to load off right here for as long as you need. If yer not big on livin' with the equines, why not play the waitin' game? Gather enough of them gold coins 'n get yerself a stead somewhere out in the plains. Plenty of land to be had from what I hear."

"... Hmh," Fawl contemplates on his words, then looks up at him again. "That doesn't sound like a terrible idea. The thought of living around ponies doesn't sit well with me, but it can't be that bad. And if it is, I'll suffer through it till I've got money."

"Atta boy, that's the spirit. ... Right, well, I'll let you off here. Nearly two in the damn mornin'."

Fawl releases a very immodest yawn and smirks lazily. "Heh, yeah. Sure feels like it too."

"G'night, y'all."

"Night, Crimson."

"Mmn! Tell him I said good night!" Tawl's sleepy voice whines from inside the bedroom.

Fawl looks back into the room, then towards Crimson again. The man chuckles and calls back, "G'night, Tawl!"

He hears a tired giggle come from her, solidifying the salutation. Crimson gazes at Fawl once more. "... Take care of her, you hear?"

Fawl nods. "You know I will."

Crimson backpedals a step from the door, and Fawl closes it quietly. Crimson returns to Moonlight's room and shuts the door behind him, making his way back up the staircase to a barely-conscious mare still sitting up. Her sleepy eyes blink rapidly at his return.

Crimson's front falls with compassion at the sight of her barely-conscious state. "Moonlight, you didn't have to wait for me." She hugs the plushy harder in response. Crimson smiles wryly and shakes his head. He moves to the switch next to the staircase and flips it, turning off the lights to the room. The ambiance shifts immediately, from a bright pastel working lab, to the peaceful sleepy glow of a bedroom.

He moves towards the bed and lays on his respective side. Moonlight finally lies down once he does, shifting around to get comfortable. He lays on his back and faces the sky-reaching ceiling, admiring the dangling glow-in-the-dark stars that hang from high up. The moon casts its light in perfectly through the wide window pane at the top of the staircase, illuminating the bed and the telescope with its amiable hue.

... He can feel Moonlight shifting a little more. And again. And again. Her minute movements are getting closer and closer. He turns his head to the right, over to the restless unicorn. Her sapphire pink orbs look up to meet his in the dimness of the night, again, with an innocent unspoken desire.

Crimson moves his right arm out a bit, resting his hand on her flank right where her cutie mark is. At his unspoken approval, Moonlight quickly reaches in and hugs his arm, placing her forehead against his shoulder and tucking his elbow against her belly.

She hugs him tightly at first, then it slowly loosens up as time goes on... and soon, she falls asleep.

Crimson waits for her to fall asleep and makes very sure not to move, lest he gets stabbed by the horn pointed right at his neck. If anything, she'll shuffle in her sleep and do the job for him. Either way, he'll take his chances now that she's off in dream land. He closes his eyes without worry, now it's his turn for some semblance of slumber...

... And by some miracle, he falls asleep instantly.

Flashing Lights

~ Canterlot Castle, the Guard Fields ~<
February 6th, Friday, 7:29

‎

With hands in his duster pockets, he halts his stride at arriving under the lush tree that shields him from the morning sun. The general ruckus of ponies calling cadence and training gives the Guard field its usual energy. His meandering presence is quick to attract friendly eyes, both from the guards around and from his squad that already lingered under the tree.

"Huh. Well look at that." Snowfall's stoic front enlivens at the sight of the man. She and the rest of the Elite squad are standing out under the tree, and same as before, there are trunks of equipment seated next to them that wait to be carried off.

Crimson notes that Snowfall isn't the only one to appear impressed at his majorly improved state. The rest of the squad, save for Banter, look very pleased.

"Are you the same corpse from yesterday?" Snowfall asks facetiously.

"Do I look it?" Crimson replies with a smile.

"Not even close. Though you're still rough around the edges, you really turned yourself around overnight. I'm shocked something like this is even possible."

"Guess you can say I took yer advice to rest up a little more seriously than I thought I would."

"That gives me a bit of reassurance. Maybe you can follow orders after all, which is good since our next mission is happening now. Moonlight was generous enough to send a letter my way, it ran me through everything I needed to know surrounding the details of the belt."

Crimson's brows raise in fascination at Moonlight's extraordinary ability to communicate with the entire Castle without ever needing to leave her room. It may also come across as a negative thing since she, in fact, doesn't leave her room, but she never shirks her duties regardless. Above and beyond her obligations even, he hadn't asked to write Snowfall a letter, she simply did it. Moonlight had told him that she wrote the letter after she woke up a bit earlier than him. She was right, it certainly was a faster and more efficient process than walking and saying everything.

"Which unfortunately," Snowfall continues, "was less than we hoped. Since we're waiting for Moonlight's full report, we'll proceed with our original mission today. While a new balloon is being prepared for us, I'll give you a sit-rep on what today should hold." Crimson nods to her. "We'll be taking said balloon to Las Pegasus. And before any of you get any bright ideas, no, you may not partake in any attractions. We're heading there strictly for business."

"'N what about afta?" Bulletpoint asks with a hopeful grin.

"We won't be there longer than we have to, so no."

Bulletpoint clicks his lips in disappointment.

"What business we got in the city of the high-rollers?" Crimson inquires.

"We're delivering two items to the Royal Researchers residing there," Swirl answers promptly, encasing her left hip-bag with her pink aura. She opens it and presents a small cube and a rolled-up sheet of paper.

"That Moonlight's mini-ANA? Wasn't that meant fer you?"

"Yes. The blueprint will stay with them so they may replicate the device, but they must first understand how it works. It is quite complicated, which is to be expected from the brilliance who invented it. We shall acquaint the Researchers in Las Pegasus with the one in my possession, but they will not keep it."

"Got'cha. Is that all we're doin' then?"

"Negative," Snowfall responds, "giving the Robes their tech is one part of the mission. After we speak to them, we'll break into two teams. Team one will stay with the Robes and cater to what they may need. Team two will descend from Las Pegasus and use the ANA device for scouting. We have received reports indicating a magical anomaly appeared a few klicks east of the city, and that's what team two will investigate. We'll have call buttons on us in case reinforcements are needed, which will be highly probable all things considered. I'll distribute the buttons once we arrive at Las Pegasus."

"The teams already made up?"

"Affirmative. You, Swirl, and Bulletpoint are team one. Banter, Strix, and I are team two."

"Alrighty."

"No questions or concerns?"

"Yeah, one. You said it's a high possibility yer gonna need reinforcements. This anomaly still active?"

"Negatory. The anomaly was reported to be defunct, but the danger comes from what could linger after. We aren't sure if we'll have to deal with magically corrupted creatures or the-likes. We'll handle any potential threats ourselves first, it's why I have Banter coming with me. Though if the situation becomes difficult, you will have your buttons ready for the assist. Anything else?"

"Nah. Nothin' right now."

Snowfall looks back, in between Strix and Swirl to glance past them. She sees that the balloon resting on the elevated platform over yonder is already being inflated. "Alright, we're green."

Crimson moves to acquire the trunks of equipment along with Bulletpoint. The man stacks three against his chest while Bulletpoint takes one on his back and they muscle them behind their squad.

Snowfall ascends the platform and quickly scans the blimp of the balloon for any irregularities, to which everything comes squared away.

"You take care'a this one now, y'hear?"

Snowfall looks towards the freckled orange mare who wears her oiled-stained denim suspenders. She nods once to her in affirmation, "My condolences to your last balloon, misses Pear. Know that she served her purpose to her fullest extent."

The orange mare chuckles heartily, "Aah, it ain't no worry, cap'n Winter. She was gettin' old anyway. Practically patchwork, the dang thing! Glad she went out with'a bang~"

Snowfall smiles very slightly, knowing full-well that she is just being modest. Her balloons are nothing short of grade-a, and losing one is nothing to scoff at.

Seeing the two males lugging weight coming up the ramp, Snowfall steps out of the way to allow Bulletpoint and Crimson to enter the basket first, then moves to enter after them with the rest of the team.

With all items boarded and checked, they are released into the air for their second trip to the west.

‎

‎

~ Equestria, Las Pegasus ~<
‎ February 6th, Friday, 11:19

‎

Three hours later, the silver and gold air balloon carefully makes its descent as Snowfall eases the burner towards a specific set of landing platforms marked with the Equestrian insignia. At her command, everyone acquires their weapons and gear from a trunk and equips themselves promptly. As soon as the balloon touches the landing platform, everyone is ready for the basket door to be opened.

Already, Crimson is mesmerized by countless flashing lights, mountainous noise, a plethora of colors, luxurious buildings and attractions, all suspended hundreds of meters in the air by an imponderable force. The mood that this floating city gives is starkly different from Canterlot, where high social status communing is shared, but in very different contexts. There isn't a pony in sight looking like they don't make a killing, yet they're all dressed so casually.

Tons of games, rides, and tables for gambling can be seen even from this platform looking in through the towering archway into the city. He never fancied himself a gambler, but he knew how to sucker out a chump of his cash at the poker table before making an exit. When he was younger, it was sometimes his only method for scrounging up income to put food on the table. A place like this doesn't even exist back on Earth, but something tells him he'd be able to blend in as one of the regulars here.

Even so, running two or three men dry at a table in a saloon is much different than a place like this. He's never seen so much controlled gambling all in one sitting.

The waterfalls, the golden-encrusted everything, the extravagant plant life, it's all a bit overwhelming. The likes of Las Pegasus isn't detestable to him, and in fact there's something charismatic about a place such as this, he just prefers peace and quiet over the constant bustling.

The basket of the balloon is opened by a stallion in golden armor who was standing on the landing platform. It seems the Guard has its presence here, and from what Crimson understands, in every major city as well. The Elite squad is humbly greeted by a stationed team of guards at this platform, where Snowfall and the stallion exchange a few out-of-earshot words. With a firm salute coming from the stallion, Snowfall looks back and tilts her head to the city, signaling their march.

The team exits the balloon, leaving the balloon's crates of supplies under the supervision of the stationed guard team. Snowfall respectively takes the lead with everyone else behind her and Crimson tailing at the back.

Now entering the city, the first sight to be had is an intricate lobby-like area with an enormous water fountain acting as the center, having walkways pathing around it that lead to various parts of the city. Many ponies going by their business are quick to shoot eyes to the squad of silver armor. Their presence is seen as unusual; the unspoken sign given off by the Elite conveys the same idea into every citizen of Equestria: something interesting is happening.

Were it not enough for the Elite's presence to make Crimson stand out, he himself is the prime target for curiosity. He figures he'd be used to getting stared at by now, but somehow, it still irks him a little. The more he thinks on it, staring isn't the issue, it's the fact that they might try approaching him again. He really didn't find his previous encounter with the denizens of Canterlot Castle very exciting, so he hopes they keep their distance.

The squad's trail continues. Crimson sinks his hands into his duster pockets so that his sword doesn't bounce as much. He shoots sly glances around as he moves, taking in the scenery without accidentally looking at a pony in the eye. The last thing he wants to do is stoke a pony enough to cause them to come up to him. But as they march on, he notices that despite hungry eyes and tons of overlapping voices, he isn't being approached...

Now that it dawns on him, there are guards in golden armor posted at almost every nook and cranny of the city. Their presence is discreet, but obvious enough to shut down any potential disturbances. That might explain why he hasn't gotten rushed yet. Hopefully these equines fear their law enough to keep a respectful distance the entire time.

Guarded by the Guard. ... He reflects on something he finds amusing. Not long ago, the image he had of ponies in armor was nothing short of bitterness and distaste. The first three interactions he had with them were, in the simplest terms, shitty. He would understand a first impression going wrong, but three whole interactions were dominantly negative... well, it would be more fair to say two and a half.

He doesn't consider the last one to be a fully-negative experience because Bulletpoint was there to shine a light on the ordeal. Before that, when the Guard arrived at Moonlight's home in Baltimare, they were stuck up and snobby. Despite being different ponies entirely, they acted just like the assholes who abducted him from Dahlia.

... Dahlia.

Now again, he finds himself thinking about her. The hopeless yearning of wanting to search for her resurfaces, and he feels--

"D'you say somethin', mate?" Bulletpoint asks as he turns around to look at him.

He hardly realized that he mumbled her name to himself. Crimson takes his left hand out of his pocket and scratches the back of his head, "Nah, just... thinkin' to myself, is all."

"Mm," he acknowledges and faces forward again. "Don't keep ya' head too far from the ground, ya' feel?"

"But we're on a cloud~" Strix comments breezily.

"You know what I mean, ya' half-witted broad."

Crimson slowly cancels out their ensuing conversation, thinking back to that peculiar mare. He realizes that he has not had an opportunity to really sit down with himself about her. Every time she pops into his mind, it's always an image of this tired, dirty, lonesome pony with no one to talk to. But then, that picture is mixed by the visage of a mare who was rubbing her conniving hooves together in order to use him for self-gain. He has not settled on which one it could be. He begins to think he will never know.

What he knows for sure is that he wants to find out. He hopes to get some free time soon so he can put this thing to rest once and for all.

Regardless, that is a cavalry belonging to the future. Now returning his thoughtful self to his surroundings, they are entering a plaza area with lots of gold forming the infrastructure. This plaza has a very high beam ceiling that forms a star, with holes in each triangle of the star to leave the sky visible. In the center of the plaza, a large solid gold statue of some pony stallion stands present, possibly the founder of Las Pegasus. There's an etched sign at the base of the statue that reads off whatever it might be, but of course, he can't understand it.

Snowfall appears to be leading the squad towards an expansive building at the far end of this plaza. Its silver and gold coloration, along with an unmissable Equestrian insignia etched and painted on it, is a crying sign of Canterlot business. The building is shaped like a mallet, with the body being a bit thinner than the last few floors at the top. Up there, almost punching the clouds further above, long rectangular windows beset the structure. He reckons you could get a mighty good view of Las Pegasus from up there.

One of two guards standing at the front of the building opens the door for Snowfall, while the other guard salutes sharply. Snowfall mumbles a simple "at ease" at them before entering, and the rest of her squad follows suit.

They are lead into a spacious receptionist area with staircases on either side. It kind of looks like the receptionist area in the Castle, just scaled down. Snowfall doesn't bother the busy receptionist mare at her desk as she is tending to another guard wearing a type of armor that Crimson has never seen before; it's a type of armor that even Strix failed to mention. The plates of the armor are dark purple along with the helmet, and the crest of said helmet is white. Some deep-blue colored mare dons it, her dark color-scheme fits her gear so well, it's a little uncanny. Though Crimson has countless questions, he'll save them for another time.

He follows his squad into a lift on the left side of the lobby, and once everyone is boarded, Snowfall taps a button to begin the ascent. A pulley-system above them glows a gentle blue aura and it begins to work, taking them up many flights before they halt at the very top.

The steel double-doors open, giving way into the Las Pegasus Royal Research Lab. The squad enters the area and are greeted by a wide expanse that is sectioned off by walls that don't reach the ceiling. The extensive room is a pasty-white color from the tile to the ceiling, but the ambiance of the room itself is a vibrant light-orange color due to the sun shining through the rectangular windows that encompass the outer walls. There are no doors to separate the areas, one could simply walk throughout the entire lab without being stopped, just like the lab back at Canterlot.

The room smells of floor cleaner and lime-scented wax. Seems that keeping the workplace tidy is a ritual that follows across Equestria's brightest no matter the location. Mechanical devices beeping, liquids boiling, and a set of clopping hooves give the silent room its audio.

Speaking of hoof steps, there isn't any ponies around to greet them out of the elevator. From what it sounds like, there's only one in here.

Adding to this proof, one curious mare pokes her head out from a cubical on the far left side of the room. The entire squad turns their attention to her. Upon receiving their eyes, she steps out into full view.

She's a light-purple unicorn with sky-blue hair that streaks green at the tips, thin rounded glasses resting in front of lime-green eyes, and wears a Scribe robe akin to Moonlight's and Swirl's.

Her wide-eye'd front turns for a beaming smile. "Hi," she says with her polite and rather sugary voice, matching her positive and bright appearance. ... Crimson can't seem to recall her name. He knows that Swirl told it to him back when Moonlight wanted to know, but he can't seem to recall it now...

... Ah, wait! He remembers now. "Lightheart Trot."

"Oh! Hah. Why, yes, that is I!" she grins with a small tint of pink on her cheeks.

"You must be Crimson!" she calls happily as she plasters him with her lively orbs.

Crimson's expression becomes solid as he realizes he thought out loud again. This certainly isn't usual for him. But now that he's accidentally butted himself into an interaction, he'll take it. "Sure am. Pleasure to meet'cha."

"Likewise! ... Uhm..." she notices Snowfall's lukewarm gaze, probably a little annoyed that she wasn't addressed first. "Captain Winter! Your impending arrival was not relayed to me, I apologize for my lack of preparation for your visit. How may I assist you today?"

"We need to speak with Second-Head Mace Collateral. He informed me that he would meet me here at this time. I assume he isn't around."

"He should be returning any minute now, Captain Winter! Head Scribe Running Water was insistent that he and Second-Head Collateral acquire new flasks this morning. I can only assume they anticipated returning in time for your arrival, but I regrettably inform you that they are slightly tardy." The gears behind the Elite squad clank to life and the lift is sent downwards. "Ah! They're here."

The squad promptly turns about-face and steps clear of the lift. Gears churning at deepening octaves indicate that it is rising up the many stories of the building, all the way until it stops at their floor. The steel doors open again, presenting two stallions inside.

Both stallions hold closed cardboard boxes in their magic. One of them is fairly young, with an expectant and interested energy. His green coat is accompanied by his light orange mane, along with his amber eyes and a unique-looking robe of similar color. His clothing certainly marks his higher status as the Head Scribe. Upon catching sight of her, he directs his gaze to Snowfall. His brows raise slightly and he smiles at her despite not receiving any reaction back.

The other stallion, an older-looking fellow with mellow green eyes, suits a tired brown coat with a grey-white mane that spans all the way to his mouth as a beard. His attention waves between each member of the squad before resting it on the captain, first stepping out of the lift with Running Water before speaking up, "Greetings, Captain Winter." His voice is rather slow, textured like gravel, and lacking emphasis. "You will forgive me for running a few errands prior to your arrival."

"You want to set those boxes down before getting to business?" she asks promptly.

"That would be preferable."

The squad tails the two researchers towards the right side of the room opposite to Lightheart. Collateral and Running move to a desk closest to the entryway of the spacious cubical and set their boxes on it. Running levitates a pair of scissors into his amber-colored magic and begins slicing the tape that closed the boxes. Meanwhile, Collateral returns his attention to Snowfall.

"Do you have it?" he asks the captain.

Snowfall looks back at Swirl, to which she quickly opens her bag with her aura and presents the small cube along with its blueprint. Swirl lowers her head slightly in respect as she floats the objects closer to the Second-Head. Her pink magic is encapsulated by Collateral's own green essence, swapping holds by drowning out her magic. He moves the objects closer to him, scrutinizing both the cube and the blueprint with a squint.

"... It certainly does not look it." Collateral pauses for a moment as he thinks to himself, just before realizing everyone is eyeing him strangely since he needs to finish his sentence. "Complicated, I mean. This device appears rather... rudimentary."

"That why you couldn't figure out the first one?" Crimson abruptly asks with a degree of acerbity. Collateral's eyes squint further as he sears the man with his gaze.

"Crimson," Snowfall reprimands his name to command his silence.

"Mm. Yes." Collateral's eyes run up and down the man's form with heavy gravity. "The human. Greetings to you as well. I will pardon your sudden outburst of disrespect. This time. Do not test me further." He looks at Snowfall with terrible bemusement. "I do not suppose he is in your Elite?"

"Not officially, but I treat him as such. So I expect him to hold his mouth and maintain a level of courtesy," she looks back to him sternly. "Understood?"

"... Yeah. Pardon me." Crimson pockets his hands and lets his expression relax, aiming to stride over the weighty air that has amassed in the room.

"As I was saying," Collateral continues, "I do not believe this is as complicated as the Head Researcher made it out to be."

"With all due respect, Second-Head Collateral," Swirl begins, "the design of the ANA device is quite revolutionary, both in functionality and practicality. Please, take the time to truly analyze its mechanisms."

"Hmph," Collateral levitates the mini-ANA back towards Swirl and moves the blueprint to the desk behind him, setting it down next to the boxes that Running has opened. "Now then, if you have nothing else for me, reattain this device and proceed with your calling--"

"Would you like me to first demonstrate how to properly use the device, Second-Head?" Swirl offers anxiously. "It would take no time at all, and--"

"Not necessary, Scribe. Though you may think me incompetent, I assure you, I am not."

"N- ... No, Second-Head, that is not what I was--"

"Reattain your device, lest it drops to the ground, perhaps test its durability against tile flooring."

Swirl bites her lower lip and charges her magic again, taking the mini-ANA back into her hold. She levitates it to a bored Snowfall who acquires it with her wing.

"Once again, before I was interrupted," Collateral huffs, "if no other business must be held, proceed with your designated mission, Captain Winter. We will be here if there is anything you require."

"Understood," Snowfall acknowledges. "Team one, front and center," she orders fleetly. Crimson, Swirl, and Bulletpoint move to stand before her. Snowfall reaches into a bag around her belly and takes out three golf ball-sized silver disks with glowing red buttons in the center. She holds them out for team one to take, and each individual retrieves theirs. "Quick explanation for you, Crimson. If you get into trouble, press the red button. If we get into trouble, we'll press the red button. If we do, your own button will start vibrating and glowing, and vice-versa. We'll have about a minute of voice-comms before the magic in our buttons die out. The rest from there should be self-explanatory."

"Got it," Crimson nods while slipping his button in his inner chest pocket.

"Hey, uh," Running Water suddenly sounds out, "it was nice seeing you again, Snowy. Best of luck in your mission today." His tone comes off confident and reassuring, matching his forward-looking appearance. Though Snowfall doesn't look very impressed at the nickname that was used, it came from his mouth rather naturally, and neither does Snowfall bother commenting about it. Oddly enough, no one but Strix and Bulletpoint appear phased by it either.

Snowfall sighs and turns for the elevator. "You too, Head Scribe. Alright team two, we're moving out."

Banter tightens his grip on his partisan and smirks slightly while following behind, and Strix appears decently confused but follows as well. Snowfall activates the lift, and the steel doors close them off. They depart for their scouting mission, leaving team one to idle with the researchers.

Crimson turns back to the ponies behind him, seeing Collateral already walking away with the blueprint in his magic. Swirl is quick to trot after and mumble things to him, following him as he takes the blueprint to a desk at the far end of the cubical, one that sits next to the windows which overlook Las Pegasus. He sits down and acquires writing instruments, readying himself to dissect the 'rudimentary' schematic in his possession. He and Swirl begin to exchange words as they look over Moonlight's creation. Crimson assumes they shouldn't be bothered right now.

He glances to Running Water who is already looking at him, or rather, past him, towards Bulletpoint. "Hey, B.P," Running calls, "you mind helping me label all these flasks?"

"Ch, what a drag," Bulletpoint scoffs ironically, giving the green stallion a smirk.

"Remember what Snowy said. You're catering to us right now~" He returns an equally abrasive smile.

"Snowy, hm?" Crimson asks, garnering both his and Bulletpoint's attention.

"Cute, right?" Running returns the question.

"Yeah, I'd say so. You've got some cajones on you being able to tease the cap'n of the Royal Guard in front of everyone like that. Much due respect."

"Heh, thanks, but it's not teasing. We go way back, you see."

"Hmh. She sure didn't look too thrilled when you called her 'Snowy'."

"Aaah, she's just acting tough because she's on-duty."

"Huh... that so?" Crimson raises his left brow in amusement.

"Eeyeah," he grins casually, "hopefully she sticks around long enough so I can talk to her when she's off."

Crimson crosses his arms and scrutinizes the stallion. "What kind'a string a Robe like yerself got pullin' with Snowfall?"

"Sheesh, that's a loaded question," Running rubs the back of his head.

"Aah, nah-nah-nah," Bulletpoint interjects while leaning his head in. "Can't side-step the story forever, ya wanka. C'mon, 'bout time we seen what the chef's been cookin'."

"It's not like I don't want to tell you, you just never ask at the right time. I could tell you right now, buuut I'm certain that--"

"Enough yammering, Head Scribe," Collateral calls from his desk while interrupting what Swirl was telling him, not bothering to look up from the blueprint.

"... See?" Running sneers. "Anyways, let's get these flasks labeled, yeah? I'll fetch a list of what we're jotting."

"Should I be doin' somethin'?" Crimson asks once he realizes he's the only idle body around.

"Uuuh... mmm..." Running mulls briefly. "... Ah! Go check out what Lightheart needs. She might want some help with something. Maybe."

Crimson acknowledges him and takes a step backward before directing himself over to the purple mare's cubical.

As he steps into view, Lightheart quickly flashes her eyes at him, then returns to the piece she's working on. It looks like some sort of circuit board, webbed with wires of varying colors. Her attention doesn't last long on her piece, returning again to the man.

"Howdy again, misses Lightheart."

"Hi again! Oh, and uh, I'm not married. Still single!" she beams rather happily about that fact.

"Ah, pardon me. You look the type."

"Do I? Haha, I must be getting old!"

"Not at all, miss Lightheart. You've got a mature look about you, but definitely not old. I'm thinkin' the word fer that is 'beautiful.'"

She blinks twice quickly and lifts her left shoulder closer to her head, "Why thank you~"

Crimson smiles at her before sliding his eyes back to the unfinished tech on the lab table. "What'cha workin' on?"

She bounces her gaze between him and her work, "Oh, just a little bit of electrical engineering. I'm hoping to simplify this module called a parallel circuit! At least, that's what I'm calling it because of how it looks. Its practical function is the same as a series circuit, but with a much higher grade of stability! Now, I beg that you do not assume that I am calling the work of my forefathers terrible, but the series circuit is quite inefficient. Do you have electricity in your home?"

Crimson nods, using his home back on Earth to answer. "Sure do."

"Did you ever wonder why every socket in a room stops working when only one of them goes out?"

"Never really gave it serious thought, but it happened more than once. Takes forever to figure out which one's the culprit, it's pretty annoyin'."

"Haha, it is, isn't it? The series circuit relies on every part of the connection to be functioning. If one thing goes out, pfft!"

Crimson smirks a bit at the adorably silly fart noise she flapped with her little tongue.

"Now with this new circuit design, even if one thing goes awry, the rest of the components can still retain their functionality! With this leap in cohesion, I'm hoping to implement electricity more widely in Equestria! As you might already know, many things are still powered with magic, and while serviceable, it's dangerous to rely on it fully. Like that lift that you used to come to this lab! If the magic in the gears was suddenly dispersed for any number of reasons, you would be met with a catastrophic end!"

"..." Crimson looks backwards towards the lift with mild insecurity.

"But fear not! I regularly maintain the lift, so it will not go astray under my care! Soon enough, it, along with the rest of Las Pegasus, will be powered electrically!"

"Sounds incredible, miss Lightheart."

"I'm glad you think so!"

"There doesn't happen to be anythin' you need, is there? Need me to fetch somethin' fer you?"

"Uuuhm... not at this exact moment. Thank you for the offer! ... Though, I was interested about something..."

"Shoot."

"Well... when you first arrived with your team, you knew my name from the get-go."

"Yes, ma'am."

"... Is there some particular reason that you do? It's not that I mind, but I'm... curious."

"I was runnin' an errand fer Moonlight. Involved gettin' the names of the current researchers in position."

"Oh!" she lightens in realization. "It was purely business-related. I see."

"Moonlight was wantin' a check up on her team, so I figure."

"So you only remember my name because of an... errand?"

Crimson's left brow raises, knowing exactly what she's implying. "Hmh. I wouldn't say so, reckoned knowin' yer name would come in handy at some point. Gettin' that tender reaction outta you earlier was definitely worth the space in my head."

"Hohohoo~" Lightheart giggles and gives him her cheek. "You sure are a flirtatious one~"

"I only call it how I see it, ma'am. Now to turn the table on you, it's lookin' like you knew my name too. Reckon it had somethin' to do with Moonlight?"

"Yes! She and Celestia are the reason I know your name. Mister Crimson!"

"Just Crimson, if you will. I recall Moonlight sayin' you two don't know each other very well."

"Indeed, I am not acquainted with Moonlight personally, but we have been writing to each other more frequently now that she's back at Canterlot. She seems like a very nice pony."

"And you'd be right about that, she's a swell gal. What kinda stuff ya'll been chattin' about me, if you don't mind me askin'."

"Oh," she faces away from him and giggles, "well... things."

"I have a feelin' I know what they are."

"I'm certain you do~ Though it's one thing to read about it in a letter, seeing it happen is quite a different concept."

"Thinkin' you're referrin' to somethin' specific here. C'mon now, you ain't gotta beat around the bush with me." With his left lip curved upward, he leans his upperbody forward to loom over her a bit.

"You are demonstrating it right now actually!" she twitters effeminately. "So bold, so forward. If only other stallions had half the male you had~"

Crimson's brows raise and returns to a straight-standing position. "Now that you mention it, it's quite a concept that you ain't repulsed by my likes."

"Oh?" her brows raise in mild worry. "What ever do you mean? You're tall, strong, handsome, and have quite a way with words~ What should I be appalled by?"

"Well, beckonin' back to what you said, I ain't exactly a stallion. I'm a man."

"Eht, eeh... e-yes?"

"Doesn't it come off strange with the way I'm talkin' with you?"

"Not at all! It's very flattering, it makes me feel like a filly again~"

"So you're alright with my type?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Crimson puts his fists on his hips and tilts his head. "It really doesn't rub you the wrong way that I ain't a pony?"

"Mm-mm!" she shakes her head. "Many ponies find humans attractive, and some humans are more attractive than others~ ... Oh!" Her irises glisten in a sudden burst of eureka. "I think I understand it now! You're being coy with me because you wanted to test a hypothesis."

"... Care to elaborate a little on that?"

"By hypothesis I mean, you are purposefully engaging in flirtatious behavior with me in order to gauge my reaction." Her tone sounds very lighthearted for such a matter-of-fact statement.

"Uuh," Crimson's eyes shoot left and right, "well, puttin' it like that, that could be a good reason for it, but it ain't actually why. I just like you. No other reason besides that. Though I do like your angle on it, it's very interestin' to see yer mind at work. Calls lots to question."

His sentence throws Lightheart into a roller-coaster of several different emotions all in the span of ten seconds. She blinks her befuddled eyes to internalize his words, and she chuckles merrily once she does. "A charmer as much as an inquirer! You would make a good researcher with that type of thinking!"

"Appreciate your sayin'-so, but I reckon I'm too dumb for the likes of y'all. Book-smarts wasn't always my fancy."

"I don't believe a word of it! I have a nagging feeling that you'd be great as a researcher!"

"Nah, nah, trust me. You'd rather not have me ruin an experiment tryin'a butt in. I'm good for the manual, not so much intricate abstracts. I'll be there if you need someone to pick up heavy stuff 'n put it back down."

"A modest one, are we? Hohoo, I think your experiment is proving to be fruitful! Say, what is your opinion on the matter?"

"On the... pony-unto-man thing?" She nods excitedly. "... Can't say I've really concluded anythin' on it. I've had some, uh... 'data', but I haven't really, uh... God, what was it. What's that word you use when you bring all the datas together?"

"Compiled!"

"Yeah, compiled. Haven't done that yet."

"Mmm~" Lightheart hums eagerly. "Prithee reflect! The only thing worse than ignorance is wasted information!"

"Those'r some wise words, miss Lightheart. I'll definitely keep that in mind."

"Hoh, please, just call me Lightheart. Adding the 'miss' at the beginning makes me feel like an older mare."

"Anythin' to preserve your youthful self, Lightheart. You look about as old as Snowfall, which definitely ain't old."

"An astute observation! She and I are the same age!"

"Well ain't that somethin'. You two know each other?"

"Many of us know each other! More specifically, Snowfall, Banter, Running, and myself all know each other personally. We all joined Canterlot's united forces in the same year! We've all known each other since grade school."

"That far back, huh?" Crimson smiles at her, contemplating on the concept. He draws interest and understanding from it, not because of the social circle that is formed, but more that the history of Equestria has existed before he was even conceived. Before he had even realized Equestria was a location, before he had been sent to this land, lives were being lived prior to his coming. Of course he knew this to be true, but to have it put in perspective makes him sit on the idea more clearly.

There are many past events involving those he has come to know, and while he sure won't know all of them, he'd like to hear as many as he can. The idea of camaraderie with his new-found connections drives a soothing warmth into his soul.

"Yes! Much history to be had with... those... ponies?"

Crimson blinks once to come back from his musing. He sees Lightheart's front has turned with a fusion of addlement and awe.

"... Oh~"

"There somethin' wrong?" Crimson asks curiously.

"Your eyes. Did you... did you do that? On purpose?"

"My eyes?" He stops for a moment, knowing he's heard this before. "My eyes. Did they glow some sorta..."

"Gold?" They both say at the same time.

"Yes!" Lightheart beams excitedly. "They did! I've heard all about it! Well, as much as Moonlight and Princess Celestia could describe! It's so exciting to have seen that! It was like nothing I've encountered! The sensation, the swirling vivacity, it was amazing to witness! You sure do know how to make a mare smile!~"

"Eheh, I appreciate the fondness."

"Calming yet deliberate! Soothing but pensive! Hoh, it would be a dream come true to see it happen again!"

Crimson's lips line a little longer across his face as they purse, feeling a little overwhelmed by her unsullied adoration. He wasn't even aware that he pulled it off, he didn't feel a hint of exertion in his body occurring. Yet, according to her, it literally just happened.

He supposes he'll tag along for this stunt anyways. It takes a brief silence for him to answer her eager petition. "... You wanna see it again that bad, mm?" Lightheart nods quickly a multitude of times. After another short-lived pause, Crimson comes down onto his left knee, slouching a bit to even his face with hers. He extends his right hand forward, motioning with his four fingers together for her to come closer.

She walks towards him with an ever-growing smile, her eyes never remove themselves from his. As soon as they stand nose-to-muzzle, Crimson lets his eyes slowly close. Under his clothing and bandage wraps, his muscles contract as he commands his Arch to awaken. It feels... painful. Just as he expected.

His eyes reopen just after, allowing Lightheart to witness a hurricane of golden energy swirl fiercely in his irises, causing them to radiate a majestic light. After the initial discharge, the inclement movement in his irises calms to a passive stir, appearing as gently churning gold magma.

Lightheart's orbs widen with adore, her large reflective pupils dance with the light coming from him. Her mouth opens without her accord, growing from ear to ear with a delighted smile. Her chest wells with a puffing excitement that is released in the form of a girly giggle.

Crimson sees her lips attempting to come together, possibly trying to form words, but they keep coming apart because of her big smile. Whatever is going on inside her mind, it doesn't seem she'll be able to vocalize it right now. She's certainly having an interesting reaction. He can only recall one person ever having a display like this, with similar beaming teeth and feminine giggling.

Lost in thought, Crimson's fingers on his right hand twitch slightly. Without his active approval, his hand slowly begins to rise, approaching Lightheart's face. All he sees right now is a girl, reminiscing on this very same action he had done before.

With a quick and quiet gasp, Lightheart's eyes finally break contact with his shimmering lights to stare into the void. The warmth of his hand encompasses her left cheek, along with an indescribable peace that flows into her body like a surge of electricity. "Cr... Crimson?" she murmurs meekly, returning her sight to his stargazing front.

Crimson slowly blinks once at his name being said, returning down from his contemplative heights for the numbered time today. He is starting to realize how thoughtful he has been since this morning. It is definitely not his standard mental tuning.

He becomes fully aware of what he's doing, but certainly does not feel like backing off and making this awkward. A small smile forms on his lips. "A little much?"

"The touch is certainly... um... unexpected, yes? But! It is a part of the scientific bushel it seems!"

"Nah. I just wanted to touch you~"

A deep fluster reddens Lightheart's lavender cheeks and muzzle like a ripe tomato. The tingle in her chest returns again, released once more as a giggle. This one, however, is considerably unrefined and trepid. "It-It is very difficult to discern what actions are due to your research matters and which ones aren't..."

"I don't reckon they have to be mutually exclusive."

"A-Are you certain that you don't already have a conclusion on the matter?"

"What makes you think that?" he asks with a teasing simper.

"The way you are treating me... I haven't felt this fawned over in... a very long time. You are either a very good actor, or... you feel something more."

Crimson absorbs her words while staring at her deeply blushed front. Backing into his thoughts again, his hand begins to move on its own accord by reaching down a little to gently scratch the bottom of her chin. She automatically tilts her head up and moans from the euphoria caused by such pampering.

He tends to her comfort while thinking, bouncing her last sentence around in his head. 'You feel something more'... maybe. Maybe not. As he continues gazing at Lightheart's cherried face, at her adorable features, he comes to realize that it's very difficult to be unattractive as this model of equine. Lightheart's blushing cheeks combined with her healthy coat shine light off like a waxed sphere, her curly mane is a wave of beautiful pointed-off streaks, and her tiny pinchable muzzle can be heard taking in and releasing small bursts of oxygen.

He admits it to himself. These ponies are so damn cute, one would be hard-pressed to not find them attractive... more-so in the sense of how one would find a puppy or a kitten, and not so much romantically.

'You feel something more.'

"I-I would..." Lightheart stammers with a heated breath, "... would not mind if this became a more... permanent matte-- mm... nh?"

Her weakly mustered confession is left ambiguous when Crimson's hand ceases its movement on her lower cheek. Her waning eyelids break open immediately once her catering is halted, looking down to Crimson with deepening worry. Perhaps he knew what she was going to say, but--

"O-Ooh," she dribbles quietly. To her internal relief, she quickly spots what interrupted him, and it's glowing red in the inside of his duster pocket.

"That didn't take long, did'nit, mate? ... Mate?" Bulletpoint comes around the corner of the cubical to see Crimson and Lightheart centimeters from each other's fronts, with the glasses-wearing Scribe deeply red at the face. Both of them turn to look at him, with Lightheart smiling awkwardly.

Crimson faces Lightheart once more, directing her attention back to him. He reaches into his inner chest pocket, taking out the glowing and vibrating button. Lightheart glances to it then back to Crimson, and her lop-sided smile trembles. She clears her throat before speaking, "It appears you are needed..." her voice hums out much less excitedly than she previously was when he first arrived.

"... Looks like it." He smiles solemnly back to Lightheart before using the index finger on his free hand to gently push back and correct her skewed glasses for her. He then stands up, turning to face Bulletpoint... and Bulletpoint himself harbors an aggressively shit-eating grin that definitely indicates some railing to be had later. "Has Snowfall tried talkin' to us with this thing yet?" he holds the button in the tips of his index finger and thumb.

"Momentarily," Swirl's voice comes from behind Bulletpoint as she walks into view. "It takes about ten seconds for the resonance magic to take effect."

Khtzz-Chzzzrr! "Team one!? Team one, come in!" Snowfall's voice arrives slightly distorted but coherent. Moreover, there is a lot of noise coming from the background of her end, sounding like shouting and explosions.

Swirl takes her button with her hoof and holds it close to her mouth, "Yes, captain?"

"One klick east of Las Pegasus! The base of the Applewood mountains! We've got Wildmanes! Get over here now!"

"Wildmanes? Shiet," Bulletpoint mumbles fiercely while shaking his head once. "Should we take the balloon, cap'n!?"

"No time! Get to the balloon, gear up and give Crimson a cloud flask! Fly over ASAP! We need you all here NOW! Banter and I will hold them off as best as we can!"

"Copy that, cap'n! Anyone injured?"

"Negative! But we'll be more than just injured if you don't get here! We've got at least--" Ktchzz! "Move!--" Ktzzeo!

"Rrrrh!" Bulletpoint aggressively shakes his button around from its lack of reliability. Once it dies and cuts off, he shouts "Piece of fackin' trash!" and throws it onto the ground to shatter it into pieces. He darts to the lift and presses the button a little harder than he should have. The lift works its gears and begins to ascend...

... and ascend.

Bulletpoint angrily hits the lift button again. And again and again.

"It is not going to rise faster if you keep pressing the call button, Bulletpoint," Swirl squints at him.

"Well that fackin' shit's takin' bloody foreva'! Rrh, can't we just jump off'a the roof!? There's a ladder right thea!" He points to said steel ladder on the wall just next to the lift.

"Do not be so idiotic. Crimson and I cannot fly, and you are not strong enough to carry either of us. We need to retrieve the flight potion from the trunk in the air balloon if we are to adequately descend from Las Pegasus--"

"I can fly," Crimson interjects.

Swirl gawks at him with furrowed brows. "There is no time for putrid humor," she grits. "Humans do not fly."

Crimson shakes his head in annoyance and blows her off, marching directly towards the ladder. He climbs it and unlatches the trapdoor above him, pushing it open to shine the noon sun down upon him. He climbs up and onto the roof, feeling quite a breeze being this high up without any buildings to block the wind. On the edges of the roof to this tall building, steel rails that come up to his groin are the only protection from someone jumping off the side.

Begrudgingly, Swirl rolls her eyes and charges her horn, blinking herself onto the roof with him. Bulletpoint ignores the ladder and simply flies up the hatch, landing at his other side.

Lightheart's eyes shimmer as she stares up towards the roof. She trots towards the ladder and begins carefully ascending it.

"Where the heck are you going, Lightheart?" Running asks while he and Collateral both eye her dubiously.

Lightheart looks at them but doesn't respond. She returns her attention up and climbs the ladder more, up until her eyes barely peek out onto the roof to secretly watch the three members of the Elite.

"Crimson, stop wasting our time," Swirl states caustically. "The lift is about to arrive. Return down to the lab immediately, or else." Crimson directs his furrowed gaze to her, to which she purses her lips with a deepening frown. She can sense a profound sincerity upon his face, making her believe that he might not be joking after all. Still, she takes one stomping step towards him, "Regardless of your advocated capability to fly, I cannot. I will not allow you to leave me behind."

"Swirl, I can--" Bulletpoint tries to speak, but Swirl cuts him off quickly.

"You would move too slowly if you wanted to carry me. No. This will never work. We are returning to the balloon, we are not wasting any more ti--aahEEM!?"

Crimson quickly grabs Swirl by her hoof and pulls her towards him, holding her firmly against his pecs with one hand at her chest and the other on her belly. He grips onto her floppy robe tightly so as to not give any slack for jostling.

"Nnh! Mmrh!" Swirl fidgets angrily. "You! You will suffer for handling me like this!"

"Keep yer mouth shut fer a minute," Crimson grumbles into her ear as his eyes begin to sheen with gold. Her bitter expression halts at the sight of his radiating orbs.

She knows what this is, what he is doing, but she befuddlement upon her face speaks all the words she cannot utter herself.

Crimson's fingers tighten on her robes. "Get pissed off at me after we're done helpin' out our friends." Saliva builds in her mouth under his gaze. He then turns his face to the stallion at his side. "Ready, B.P?"

"Been ready, mate," he nods firmly.

Crimson looks to the ground in front of him and he lines his brows at the top of his eyes. His teeth grit together while every muscle in his body clenches tightly, actively keeping himself from crushing Swirl. "Mrh... nrh-- MRRH!"

Bulletpoint and Swirl, and the peeping Lightheart, are shocked when a gust of energy passes their bodies like a spirit walking right through them. Crimson's form combusted with golden essence, inflaming his entire being with golden fire. The particles that dance around him come together to form a set of two wide powerful wings and a halo at the top of his head.

Crimson's muscles are already starting to argue with him, so he reckons its best to get moving immediately. He looks back towards Bulletpoint, who feels the weight of his stare even though his eyes are purely sockets of energy with no pupils or irises in them. "You lead, I'll be right behind you." His voice resounds from his mouth as if several beings were speaking at once.

Bulletpoint is frozen in place at the sight before him, and it isn't until Swirl stammers out that he acknowledges. "G-Go! Go, Bulletpoint!"

"Go! Roight!" His dilated eyes turn away from Crimson, then back to him, then away again. "Fackin' A," he whispers to himself as a huge grin forms at his mouth. He spreads his feathered appendages wide, proceeding to crouch down and spring into the air.

Crimson holds Swirl against him more firmly. Simultaneously, he performs a calf raise to stand on the tippy-toe of his boots while giving his wings one powerful flap. The movement is enough to jet him high into the air, turning down in an arc to follow behind Bulletpoint.

Lightheart covers her face with her hoof when the angel flaps his wings, the gale of wind caused by him forces her to look away. Her mane wildly flaps and her glasses nearly fall off of her face, but once the tide surrenders, she blinks and adjusts her bifocals. She looks back up into the sky, marveling at the angel that flies off towards the mountains.

She can hear the folks of Las Pegasus shouting and reveling at his sight. With a breathless smile, she takes their screaming and cheering as her own.

A Calamity

~ Equestria, Central Plains ~<
February 6th, Friday, 11:41

‎

"CHOKE ON THIS!" shouts a grimy, scraggled stallion as he lights a stick of dynamite and chucks it forward.

"BANTER! YOUR LEFT!"

"HRH! MMYEAH! EAT SHIT!" Banter grits furiously as he penetrates bodies with his partisan. He hears his captain calling to warn him about the explosive thrown his way, but he hardly responds coherently through his fervor.

A battle has ensued in the dirt plains of the west Applewood mountain region. A rambunctious gang of lawless stallions are hailing arrows and propelling dynamite all while they shout rebelliously. Team two of the Elite squad find themselves partaking in this violent exchange amongst several destroyed caravan carriages that were only trying to transport goods. With five dead caravanners, four stallions and one mare, the last remaining fragment of their group rests in the caring arms of Strix, who takes cover behind one of the destroyed carriages.

The young foal grips onto Strix as hard as she is crying. The whizzing of arrows and explosions continue to shatter her sundered world. Strix presses her chin atop of her head, attempting her best to calm the filly through this storm.

Banter and Snowfall are both enshrouded by the dance of death, constantly weaving and attacking without relent in order to draw attention away from Strix and the foal. Both frontliners have suffered minor lacerations from the Wildmane's bladed weapons, but they continue their sturdy defense. Their silver armor proves to be true over its aesthetic, covering them from the more fatal blows and allowing them to fight on.

While Snowfall warned Banter about the dynamite thrown his way, he only replied with a maniacal laugh. He doesn't bother kicking the explosive away, but instead twirls his partisan in a backspin before jutting it forward for an upward jab, impaling a Wildmane that charged at him with a bowie knife. With a mighty heave to spin the impaled stallion around, Banter throws him off of his spear-end and onto the primed dynamite. The Wildmane's body silences the explosive with a gutty mess, leaving Banter to grin ravingly.

Banter immediately bounces off of this victory towards another, moving with grace to not only avoid feathered projectiles fired at him, but to sever throats and arteries with his tipped staff of dissolution.

Snowfall as well acts with nimble evasion, but her movements are more coordinated and practical than Banter's exaggerated motions. As melee attackers charge her several at a time, she combines lithe wing-work with expert swordsmanship. These Wildmanes are brave, or stupid, enough to engage close quarters combat with a master of the craft, resulting in their heavy, wide-swung attacks parried and countered before they could even reset their swing.

Many Wildmanes have fallen thus far, but their numbers are great, with over thirty stallions aiming to make easy pickings off of this caravan. But, the two silver-donned equines of prowess aim not to let that be the case.

"AND THIS! HAHA!" Banter removes the tip of his partisan out of a stallion's eye socket, then proceeds with spinning in a full circle to cleave his weapon through the throats of two stallions rushing behind him. "TOO FUCKING EASY!" His senses then call danger, heeding him to spring to the left swiftly, evading an arrow shot at him from his flank. With heavy panting, he eyes the crossbow-wielding Wildmane with cynical glee, spreading his wings in preparation to close the distance.

Snowfall flicks her sword in a swerve moving left to right, catching a Wildmane's scimitar mid swing and flicking it away. She follows up without a break in motion, swerving her blade left again to pierce the stallion's jugular. She retracts her sword and springs backwards, aiming not to get any gushing blood on herself. A lock of her mane falls down over her left eye as she breathes heavily, finally getting a second to rest from the constant combat.

The numbers of the opponent are finally dwindling. It appears that victory is nigh...

... but something irks Snowfall. The amount of enemies she counted doesn't add up. Their force seemed much larger before than it does now... perhaps some of them retreated. She didn't see any one of them running away though.

She darts her eyes briefly to Banter. Her expression grows clutched at seeing him attempt to charge away from his defensive position. "BANTER! DO NOT PUSH!"

As she had expected, he doesn't listen. Banter charges the stallion who shot an arrow at him, flying up a hill to reach the attacker. The Wildmane shoots another arrow at him as he approaches, but Banter effortlessly evades it. As he comes up onto the top of the hill, the Wildmane grins widely. He doesn't even bother chambering another arrow. This confuses Banter briefly, but he soon realizes the source for this stallion's cocky attitude.

Banter reaches the summit of the hill, seeing another platoon of Wildmanes coming up the opposite end, the same platoon Snowfall swore went missing. It wasn't that they retreated, they never pushed...

... but that isn't the problem.

"BANTER, GET BACK HERE!" Snowfall angrily calls as she flies towards him.

Banter's dilated pupils turn to the captain, then back. He gawks at it for a second longer before he dives back down the hill, racing towards Snowfall. "BACK, BACK! GET THE FUCK BACK!"

Snowfall halts her flight, turning around to retreat next to her squadmate while turning her look back, up towards that sneering Wildmane at the top of the hill.

"SHITSHITSHITSHIT!" Banter bellows.

"INFORMATION, BANTER. WHAT IS IT?"

Snowfall doesn't receive a reply from him. For a moment, the battlefield goes quiet. The only noise to be heard is the loud ringing in her ears from the mess of explosives going off earlier. She watches the top of the hill as she flies, waiting for the source of Banter's angst to show itself...

...

"YyyyyyeeeeeeEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!"

Out bursting from the top of the hill comes a make-shift motorized steel flatbed, driving down in a wobbling mess towards the two guardponies. It slams violently at the bottom of the hill, causing the engine to die instantly and leave the flatbed stationary. A dirty, robust stallion barely keeping his balance on this flatbed has something around his back, and it's big, it's heavy, and it's pointed right at them.

"THEY GOT A FUCKING GUUUN!" Banter shouts desperately. Snowfall's eyes dilate to grains of sand.

"HERE'S A LIL' SOMETHIN' SOMETHIN' FOR YA! YEEEHAAAAW!" The stallion with the gatling takes the rope of his battle-saddle into his grinning mouth. With a mighty yank, the six-barreled spinning led-pusher of death at his side fires indiscriminately. A .45 caliber hailstorm tears through the air, injecting rounds into everything in front of it.

Snowfall and Banter clench their teeth and squint their eyes. Strix, still hiding behind the carriage, whimpers as bullets break repeated holes all over its diameter. The three ponies pray that none of the bullets acquire the accuracy to end their lives.

But soon, the projectiles find their targets.

TA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA--PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG!

"Gch!" Snowfall emits a sound of startlement when death doesn't arrive, but instead a crashing wind that scatters dirt everywhere does. The sound of the gatlin gun's fire also transitions from raw pelting to the twang of metal-on-metal contact. The cloud of disturbed dirt obscures the barrage of bullets for a moment before dispersing.

Both Banter and Snowfall turn in awe at seeing an angel guarding them from the rush of led. He holds a towering heater shield of pure essence in front of him, keeping his ethereal wings tucked behind his back. His teeth grit furiously at keeping his ground stable against the ravaging pelting of bullets. His feet skid back inch after inch on the dirt over every shot thrown at him.

The Elite squad isn't the only awed party either. The Wildmanes are thrown into stupor at the golden being before them... but it isn't enough for them to retreat. They instead take this as a challenge, with the stallion at the top of the hill shouting, "FUCKIN' GET THEM MOTHERFUCKERS!"

"YEAH! FUCK 'EM UP!"

"RIP OFF ANGEL BOY'S WINGS!"

"YOU'RE TOO CLOSE TO THE SUN, SHITHEAD!"

The Wildmanes proceed to march down from the hill, readying blades in a reveling cry.

Banter snatches a crossbow as he flies back towards the broken carriages, hiding behind them next to Strix, Swirl, and Bulletpoint, the latter two who were deposited by Crimson before charging to the front line. He helps himself to one of Bulletpoint's quivers, preparing for the stand.

Instead of flying back to the carriages, Snowfall halts. She watches Crimson's shield clanging at every shot, his arm and body recoiling back in protest, his boots skidding along the dirt. His guard appears impenetrable, but his body language shows blatant signs of strife.

Ten seconds pass under fire, and his ethereal shield of light is starting to crack. Visible shards of the shield are breaking off and fading into the ether, while the entire shield itself is cracking like glass. Snowfall curses under her breath and flies towards him, unsure that she will be of any aid, but unwilling to stay back while he takes the brunt of the death-storm.

"NRH! BACK!" Crimson shouts at her without looking over. His eyes, the sockets of light that they are, remain focused on the red-hot barrel of the gatling attempting to kill him.

Snowfall's chest flutters at the boom of his voice, resonating like a rumble of thunder even over the weapon's boisterous fire. Banter also takes a moment to blink away his confoundment, prepping his crossbow by resting it on the handle of the carriage.

Snowfall already knew that nothing in this situation is going to work. At this point, there's no way she can help, and there's nothing Crimson can do to get to safety. The only hope she can have is that he can withstand the storm long enough for their ammo to run out, or their weapon to fail from overheating. The latter seems to be their only hope, dictated by the ridiculously long belt of bullets that streams across the entire flatbed.

In a huff of desperation to swallow her pride, she flies back again, proceeding as Banter did and acquiring a crossbow from a fallen Wildmane. She positions herself on the opposite end of the carriage to Banter, developing a triangle formation with Bulletpoint as he sits at the top of the fallen carriage's side. Swirl stands next to Banter, horn charged with her pink aura.

They begin to take methodical shots at the Wildmanes running down the hill towards Crimson.

The angel's teeth clench tightly as he exerts every part of himself to keep his guard up. His body is struggling to keep his Arch channeled. He already flew several miles with it to arrive here, and that alone was enough to tire him a good sum. It's been too long since he has done something like this, and the sudden pressure he's putting on himself is present in how painful his muscles are clenching.

He feels like he's about to fall asleep trying to keep his Arch charged, like when one runs for too long and their world starts to blacken at the edges.

Speaking of falling asleep, he is completely certain that if he had not gotten as good rest as he did last night, he would have hundreds of bullet holes in him by now.

PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG!

That sleep. It sure was a good sleep. The best he's had in a long time. ... Well, he supposes that's not fair to say. He had another great rest not too long ago, back when he slept with Moonlight in her home at Baltimare.

PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG!

... Now that he thinks of it, both times he slept well...

PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG!

... he slept with Moonlight...

PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG-PANG!

He hears a voice calling from behind him. It sounds like... Swirl? She's yelling something at him, but he was drowning everything out subconsciously. What does she want?

"Let it fall! Crimson!"

Crimson's face turns slowly at Swirl's shouting. Her dilated orbs reflect the light from her charged horn quite marvelously. She just told him to drop his shield. He isn't sure that's a very good idea, he might die if he does... but she's a smart girl. She probably knows what she's talking about.

"Allow your guard to fall! I will aid you! Do as I ask!"

'Okay. Sure. Drop the shield,' Crimson thinks to himself. '... Dropping the shield. Now.'

His body accidentally overdoes the release, not only dropping the shield, but dispersing his Arch entirely. His wings and halo are banished, the lights in his eyes fade.

PANG-PANG-PANG--- WRBL-WRBL-WRBL-WRBL!

He nearly loses his balance, feeling blood rushing into his head at releasing all of the strain his Arch placed on him. His muscles are still flexed and twitching, the veins on his body are pronounced to a concerning degree.

The bullets are still being fired at him, but he's not dying. Weird.

He refocuses on his surroundings, now realizing the pink dome of magic that surrounds him. The peculiar wobbling it emits when bullets strike it is entrancing. Inches from his face, Strix's magic stops the lead storm from shredding him to pieces.

He also sees that a mess of Wildmanes are attempting to rush him, but they are being swiftly picked off by the three snipers behind him... though, it still doesn't look like they're killing enough of them in time, and neither do any of them have the range to kill the stallion with the automatic firearm. Wildmanes are soon going to rush past him and towards his teammates, and there isn't a damn thing he can do about it.

Crimson turns back to look at Swirl again, seeing the strain on her face at keeping the bubble up against such an onslaught. It looks like she's having an even harder time than he was staving off the bullets. Her eyes squint to a nearly-closed state, her teeth brace tightly and her muzzle is scrunching.

He watches her exert her little body. Her horn is sparking at the tip, her chin is tucking automatically. The strain she is putting on herself is clearly visible, even if she has just started casting. She's obviously trying her hardest, but perhaps magic doesn't fair well against sustained high-velocity impacts.

It's not enough. It doesn't look like it'll be enough to save him. Her magic is going to give out sooner than hoped. Crimson supposes he understands why guns were outlawed now. Swirl is a pretty powerful unicorn, and even her magic can't hold a candle to a gun.

He faces forward, looking at the nearly-combusting gatling gun. It's so red from firing so much, it might just melt right then and there. It probably won't be shooting for much longer, but he doesn't have much longer. His muscles are still burning and spasming from his previous channeling, it could cause internal damage to him if he tried it again.

He hates this. He loathes this. His own power gives him more pain than it returns in usefulness. At least he knows why now. Thinking back to what a peculiar being told him, he has been using it wrong his entire life... not that knowing this will help him right now.

The dome that shields him is growing more transparent. It's going to fade. He looks back towards the mare that is exerting herself for him... and to his dismay, he sees an unmissable sign of overexertion. Her scrunched muzzle is dripping blood from the left nostril and her left eyelid is closing itself over and over. By now, she has been keeping her magic charged for fifteen seconds, too long for her poor body to handle.

The two look into each other's eyes. Crimson lets a small smile take his lips. He nods to her, letting her know that she did well. It doesn't matter that she couldn't shield him for very long, it's the fact that she even tried is what makes him proud. He knew what he was getting himself into when he dove down to save Banter and Snowfall. Sure, he half-expected to survive and get out of this alive, but the chance of dying is always there when setting yourself in front of harm's way.

He isn't about to cry about it now. If he's going to go down, he'll do it just as he always did.

Crimson faces forward and spreads his legs apart again, raising his left arm in front of him. He takes in a long breath through his nose and lines his brows at the top of his eyes. If the bullets don't kill him, his own Arch probably will. Might as well take the gamble.

WRBL-WRBL-WRBL-WRBL--- PANG-PANG-PANG!

The transition of sound comes when Swirl's magic fails unwillingly. He can hear his team shout for him in horror.

"NRRCK!" Crimson's scorching muscles catch fire when he forces his shield to manifest again, absorbing bullets just as the dome faded. His shield instantly cracks at the repeated impacts. It hurts, someone is taking a blowtorch to every fiber in his body. Someone is digging hooks into his biceps and ripping them out. Someone is peeling his quadriceps off with a crowbar. Someone is jamming nails into his abdomen with a mallet.

That someone is himself. It's not enough.

It's not enough.

...

"FUCK ALL!"

Crimson's focus is disrupted by a Wildmane's unnaturally loud scream. His shield finally shatters and fades into nothing. He is blown backwards when bullets begin riding into his torso. One bullet. Two bullets. Three, four, f--

... no. Only four.

Four bullets lodge themselves in his chest and stomach before the trajectory of the gunfire is shifted madly upwards. He is propelled away a few feet and lands on his back, skidding on the dirt before sitting up to grasp at his searing chest. His eyes automatically begin to glow golden, his Arch pushes itself passively to keep him alive. A trickle of saliva trails down the corner of his mouth as he grits his teeth furiously, mixed with a fear for his life and measureless anger.

Though his attention is seldom left on himself. He looks forward quickly, seeing why he was spared a much worse fate... and his mouth falls to shock.

The entire Elite team witness some sort of grey, fissuring, crackling magic growing out of the ground like an emerging puddle, right under the stallion with the gun. This enigmatic essence appears to have touched the steel flatbed and aged it.

It is growing rust, the wheels that moved it deflate and become saggy, making the entire platform lopsided. This jostle caused the stallion on it to lose his balance and fall onto his back. His burning-hot weapon lands on his chest, searing him viciously and melding onto his flesh, forcing him to curdle in pain as smoldering steel slowly kills him by cooking his chest cavity.

The magic continues to expand, gurgling and revolting like tar, traveling through the ground at an alarming speed. The Wildmanes attempting to rush Crimson are met by it, and it encapsulates their entire army.

Bulletpoint and Swirl release gasps, while Crimson, Banter, and Snowfall watch in silence as this magic ages the stallions it touches.

Right before their very eyes, the Wildmanes are growing old. Their long messy flowing manes are turned grey before falling off, their lips become chapped and cracked, all of this done before their flesh becomes nothing but dust, briefly leaving their skeletons to fall to the ground as even those fade into the wind.

The anomalous magic travels towards Crimson. In a panic, he begins to crawl backwards across the dirt, huffing and gritting at the bullet wounds on his body. The combination of darting pain and smoldering musculature bind him, it feels like he's trying to move while all of his limbs are glued to his sides.

"SHITE!"

"CRIMSON!"

His team cries and rushes towards him. Bulletpoint and Banter grasp onto his shoulders, helping drag him back to the carriages.

It draws closer and closer. It spits and fissures like an old television, grey like the clouds above.

It nears Crimson's left boot. He stares at it with trembling pupils. It damn near touches him...

... but it fades. Instantly. Gone. Like if it were never there. As if someone turned off the signalless television, not even a trace is left on the soil.

Banter and Bulletpoint continue to drag Crimson until they can seat him next to Strix behind the broken carriage.

Snowfall immediately moves in order to tend to Crimson, proceeding to remove the bullets with tweezers while stifling the bleeding with a number of narcotics that come in their utility belt's medical pouch. He winces in discomfort from the brute treatment, but keeps his composure. It's definitely not the first time he's been shot multiple times.

A massive silence surrounds the squad. Even the foal in Strix's arms has stopped crying, now only sniffling and choking. Not a word is spoken for nearly a minute, leaving the wind to play a melody along with the ringing in their strained eardrums.

... until Banter indiscriminately shouts, "What the FUCK was that!?"

"What?" Snowfall asks sarcastically. "The part with the gun? Or the part with the magic anomaly?"

"THE FUCKING--! YEAH! THE MAGIC ANOMALY! THOSE FUCKING THINGS ARE REAL!"

"No shit, dick-ead," Bulletpoint grumbles and squints at him. "Least you pikers should'a been aware comin' 'ere that you'd see one. Was reported, afta all. ... I'm more fucked on that damn gun."

"A fucking GATLING gun!" Banter stabs his partisan into the dirt. "Seriously!? How the fuck did they even get one of those!?"

"You have dealt with the Wildmanes before, Banter," Swirl states monotonously. "Is your question supposed to be rhetorical?"

"Grraah, FUCK the Wildmanes! Wish the Black Horseshoes would just bend them over already!"

"If it were that easy, they would have done it already," Snowfall replies sharply.

"Oh fuck that! They CAN do it! They just-- just-- ... RRaaaH! We almost DIED today because of their stupid fucking politics!"

Banter's desperate shouts begin to rile the foal again and she starts crying.

"Banter, stop yelling!" Strix demands as sternly as her mellow voice will allow her. "You're making her feel bad!"

"OoOH! I'm sorry! I didn't realize SHE was the most important factor right now! You didn't even SEE it, did you!?"

"I, like, totally did! I saw what it did to those Wildmanes! Now please lower your voice!"

"Then it just-- just... DISAPPEARED! GONE! LIKE IF IT WAS JUST FUCKING WITH US!" Banter flings his arms up.

"Yes, that was the most concerning part," Swirl adds as she takes a cloth to her nose from her pouch, cleaning the blood off of it. "How it amassed so quickly and disappeared the same way. We should be fortunate that whatever made it recede did so at the right time. We have no indication whether these anomalies work randomly or are projected. The worst of it all is that I failed to activate the mini-ANA in order to scan the anomaly for a signature."

"Ain't yer fault, Swirl--" Crimson sighs out, only to be interrupted by a blood-spat cough. "Hrmh. There wun't exactly an ample opportunity. We just gotta hope it don't come back 'r nothin'." Crimson croaks again briefly and bends forward. He sighs and sits up again, followed by a pleasant tinge of surprise when Swirl levitates the cloth she used to clean herself, folded to offer him a clean side. He accepts it gratefully and wipes the blood off the corner of his lip. "Hopin' we get outta here soon," Crimson clears his throat again, "I'm sure we won't get lucky a second time--"

Everyone eyes the man with perturbed gazes as he struggles, which is led by Snowfall humming to him, "Shh, shh, shh. No talking. One of the bullets hit you in your left lung, the only one I couldn't get out. If you weren't you, you'd be dead right now... so don't take your chances until a doc back at Canterlot can fix you up." She leans her face closer to his, eyeing him directly into his golden left eye.

"I'll be fine."

She pulls back a bit and furrows her brows at him. "Shh, that's an order. I don't doubt you'll make it, but regardless." Crimson shoots her his bemusement with a bored glare, but he stops talking. At his compliance, her stern front gives way for a hardly noticeable smile and her voice comes with a hint of adore. "We're still going to need you after you recover."

Crimson sighs through his nose and cups the cloth into his fist, letting his eyes drift off to his right. It seems that the little foal has stopped crying again. He didn't get a chance to get a good look at it before he saved Banter and Snowfall. Looks like she's already looking at him with her huge emerald orbs.

It's a white-coated pegasus with a silky straight grey mane and tail. It's small, cute... so desperately innocent.

He lights instantly in realization, brows raising as his expression turns for gloom. He knows this filly... and she knows him too.

"Hyu... muhn?" her squeaky voice mutters out.

Crimson eyes her tiredly, but does his best to smile. He nods twice, extending his free hand out to her. Strix shuffles a little closer so he doesn't have to extend his arm so far. His hand greets the top of the little filly's head. He caresses her smooth hair, running his fingers along its natural direction. The little filly lowers her head and closes her eyes... and sobs again.

"Maamaa... paapaa..." she weeps for her parents, tears streaming down her already damp cheeks. "Mammaaa... papaaaa..."

Everyone lowers their gaze to the ground, save for Crimson, who keeps his melancholic eyes on her. At the front of this broken carriage he sits at, the ponies that lie dead on the ground were the wife and husband who he had met at Dodge. He can't remember their names... it was a very hot and muggy day, with Dahlia yanking him around on a leash. The last thing he would pay mind to was their names... but he knows this little filly's name. It stuck around with him even if he hadn't realized it.

"Foo... ree," Crimson mumbles it, just how he remembers hearing it. "Furi."

Her tearshot eyes look up to him when he calls her name. She still bawls, her body jostles with every choke, but she stares at him. Crimson moves his hand from the top of her head to her right cheek. He wipes off tears, including those that run after the first wipe. While her emotion continues, she visibly melds into his embrace. His smile widens slightly, happy to be the one caressing her now just as she did to him all that time ago.

"We need'a get," Bulletpoint says seriously. "Stayin' here for longer? Not a good plan."

Snowfall steps away from Crimson and reaches for the pouch at her belly. Everyone watches her as she takes out another call button, one that she kept apart from the team's first set. She presses it, the red button begins to glow. A moment of static goes by before a voice is heard uttering from it.

"Captain Snowfall," sounds Mace Collateral's voice.

"Second-Head Collateral. Tell patrol to send us our balloon. We're waiting for pick-up."

"Understood, captain. I take it your mission was a success."

"..." Snowfall looks back towards the situation. Crimson is tacked with bullets, she and Banter have blade wounds and dented armor, Swirl nearly gave herself an aneurysm, then to top it all off, a caravan was sacked and left them with an orphan. "... We'll see."

"... Hmh," Collateral huffs at her response. "I will have your escort arrive as soon as possible."

Snowfall opens her mouth to reply with a simple acknowledgement, but the button dies out as soon as Collateral finishes talking. She closes her mouth and lowers the button a little, staring into the nothing briefly. She moves to purse her button back into her belt after, sighing and moving to sit next to Crimson.

After another pocket of silence, Crimson's eyes steadily cease their glowing, and the first one to notice is Swirl. She stares at him, prompting him to stare back.

"... Mm?" Crimson hums questioningly.

"Your irises are no longer radiating... Arch."

"Reckon that means I'm notta boutta die."

"I'm pleased to hear... you will be okay, yes?"

"Sure will. Kinda hungry though."

"Food?" Snowfall asks dubiously, to which Crimson nods with a slight smile. "... We'll get you plenty once the balloon arrives. Will you be alright till then?"

"Yuppers."

"Your... um..." Swirl speaks up again, but takes a moment to think. "... Your capability to survive four high velocity projectiles perforating vital organs is..."

"Fuckin' insane?" Bulletpoint finishes for her, smiling wryly in an attempt to lighten up.

Swirl doesn't smile in return... but nods acceptingly. "Indeed, what Bulletpoint said. I would also like to... show my admiration to your strength. Moonlight's prior assessment to your Arch is conclusively inaccurate. I firmly believe it is of another nature in comparison to magic, perhaps at the subatomic level."

Crimson raises his brows in interest, prompting her to continue.

"Your Arch held itself much better under scrutiny of gunfire than my magic did. It was much more difficult to shield against than I previously assumed. I do not mean to bolster my ego, but my magic is developed and very high-grade. I graduated second in my class at the Canterlot Academy of Magic, second only to Head Researcher Wish herself. There were many prolific unicorns in said academy, yet I proved to be greater than them. ... Despite this, I have never had an encounter with a gun before, so I... overestimated my ability. I only called you to lower your guard in faith that I was an equal or greater. In my attempt to extricate you, your death was nearly at my hoof..." her eyes fall to the soil under her, "... I ask for your forgiveness."

"Forgiveness?" Crimson echoes, retracting his hand from Furi. "You are incredible, Swirl. A true talent. I should be the one thankin' you. I would have died if you didn't give me that moment to rest. What you did fer me saved us all, 'n you should feel pride in that. ... You even hurt yerself protectin' me."

Swirl returns her gaze to him solemnly. "... Yes, well, it appears you do it all the time. There is nothing special about me returning the favor."

Crimson grins lightheartedly, shaking his head, "Hate to disagree, but it was very special. Gettin' hurt's my job, girly," he points his thumb at himself. "Not yers."

Swirl turns away again, staring blankly at the ground. "Had anyone else possessed magic, they would have done the same. I am merely the only unicorn present."

"Yer a modest one, Swirl. I like that about you."

"Ugh," Banter rolls his eyes. He is quickly met with sharp stares from everyone around. "... What? I'm not the one being corny, you guys are. Save the touchy-feely crap for your own time."

"Be more grateful, mongrel. He saved your ass too," Bulletpoint scowls at him.

"Ch... yeah," he looks away dismissively. "Thanks or whatever."

It wasn't much of a thanks, but Crimson felt it was fairly genuine coming from someone like him. It's all he really needs. Banter might still have resentment towards him, but maybe he'll come around soon enough.

Everyone falls into silence and shifts to wait mode. Bulletpoint sits next to Strix, while Banter removes his partisan from the dirt. He twirls his weapon in idle, commencing a self-induced patrol circuit around the team in case any more threats appear.

Crimson rests his head back on the base of the carriage, looking upwards to the slowly clouding sky. Masses of grey bodies shroud the blue atmosphere, dimming the world to a tired tone.

Looks like it might rain soon.

Rekindling a Withered Wick

~ Canterlot Castle, Moonlight's Room ~<
February 6th, Friday, 18:26

‎

She scans up and down the parchment she writes in, pausing briefly to re-read her words for any mistakes. Satisfied with her spotless grammar, Moonlight continues writing a letter she plans to send to Celestia.

She has spent the whole day gathering information on the belt held by the yaks, finding fruit in the communication archives held by the Consortium. After dallying with several memoires, she successfully acquired enough information to give the Elite squad what they need. Complacent with the information she found, her mind grows groggy from hours of careful scrutinizing, but temporarily dispels it for this final letter.

She smiles as she pens words down, with the subject of her chit being none-other than the human who shared her bed. As she writes, her lips curl naturally with the glee she feels.

She focuses herself from straying too much, urged to bounce around random tangents about him, but stays on the topic of his astonishing over-night recovery. She fills with ease to finally send some good news to Celestia after a plethora of letters only detailing her concern for him. That same concern has been taxing her mind endlessly, leaving this as a breath of fresh air to soothe her psyche.

With one final word to be dotted by a period at the end, she sighs through her nose in satisfaction. She adjusts her glasses closer to her eyes, now turning her gaze up towards the giant clock above her door. It reads about 7:20. Perfect timing. At about 7:30, Magnifying Glass should be arriving for dinner, and Crimson should be returning from his mission.

Magnifying had replied with a letter of his own, delivered by a maidmare earlier today, explaining that he desired to relive days of old. He decided on buying noodles from the Researcher's favorite hangout delivered at his expense. While Moonlight was hesitant to allow him to take all of the burden for the food, his letter drew out several elaborate paragraphs that stated in-firm that it was perfectly okay. While she couldn't realize it, Magnifying already knew that she would try to cut the bill in half, just as she did when they were younger. Moonlight never did like others splurging on her, she always felt herself intruding when they did, despite the fact that she'd happily down quite a bit of money on her own acquaintances.

Now returning her eyes to the letter, she places the quill held in her magic back into its inkpot and channels a send-scroll spell. The letter rolls up into a fine tube with an easy-blue ribbon to hold it together, and it poofs to its destination in Celestia's chamber.

She arches her back and raises her arms up, turning her hips to pop her lower lumbar. With a gentle moan and a sigh from her mouth, she decides to clean herself up a bit before her guests arrive. She feels exhausted and unfocused, but nothing a splash of water from the faucet wouldn't do away with.

She ascends the staircase, heads into the bathroom and removes her glasses. She stands up onto her hindlegs to get closer to the faucet then splashes water onto her eyes with her hooves. She also takes some water into her mouth and swishes it around, hoping to alleviate any potential bad breath that possibly built up. After keeping her mouth closed for several hours, save for occasional yawns or sneezes, she doesn't want to take the chance for foul air. She spits the water out and blinks her still-wet eyelids, keeping them barely pried open just enough to see. She levitates her blue towel to herself and dries her face.

Knock-knock-knock

Her ears perk when she hears tapping at her door downstairs. She quickly replaces the towel and levitates her glasses on, adjusting them manually before stepping out to her balcony. "C-- Hmrh-mm! Coming!"

She makes pace downstairs again and heads to her door. She puts up a small self-conscious smile before even opening the door in an attempt to make herself a little more presentable to whoever is first to show up. With mustered courage, she opens the door.

Magnifying Glass stands on the other side, holding a well-sized paper bag with food contents in it with his teal aura. It seems that he too already has his own face-breakingly wide smile ready before the door had opened. But what immediately draws Moonlight's attention is what he is wearing. He sports a white tuxedo and slacks with a blue ribbon tie, his mane is well-groomed to the side, and he smells of a cologne common to Canterlot royalty. He definitely put some effort into his appearance for this dinner.

Moonlight is shocked to see him all spiffed-up as if he was going to attend some major event in the Castle. She has nothing on except her glasses, and her mane is a little more broken at the tips than usual.

"H-Hi, Moonlight!" he calls with a little too much enthusiasm.

"Hello, Magnifying Glass... you look very nice."

"Thank you! Y-You look great tonight too!"

"I--" Moonlight spends a pause registering the compliment. "... But I'm... I'm not wearing anything."

"Oh! Ahaha, correct! I-I didn't even realize! You already look so s-stunning, I hardly noticed!"

Moonlight's muzzle scrunches at the uncertainty of his words. Nevertheless, she smiles wryly and steps backwards, "Please, come in."

"Why thank you, Moonlight!" he blurts again, keeping his wide grin as he steps in with a noticeable wobble in his step.

"You can set the food down on any table you like."

Heeding to her, he levitates the bag of food to the closest lab table and sets it down. He sucks in air with relief that he successfully delivered the package without spilling or dropping anything. His neck then immediately twists around as he scans each inch of Moonlight's room, absorbing every detail he can and committing it to memory.

Moonlight watches him scrutinize her room, feeling evermore unsure of herself. She made certain to clean her entire room from top to bottom yesterday while she was waiting for Crimson to return, but she still feels like she lives in a pigsty. There is probably something she left on the floor, like a piece of food or crumpled up paper. It is only a matter of time before he finds it.

"Hwoh, this is amazing... being back in here," Magnifying mumbles in admiration. Having anticipated some sort of fault found in her livelihood, Moonlight's expressions softens when it does not arrive. "After so many years passing by this room, always seeing it closed with the padlock gating it away... I don't have the words. It's... it's just like I remember it!"

"Eh... is it? Ehehe, I tried to put everything back where it used to be."

"You did an incredible job! I said it, but I'll say it again, it's just like I remember it! ... Ouhm, uuh, well, except for that coatrack next to your door." Moonlight looks towards said coatrack with audit. "You used to keep it closer to the shelves! Not right next to the door!"

"I did...?" Her brows furrow further, then raise in realization. "Oh! I did. Indeed I did. Wow, Magnifying, how did you remember that?"

"I-I remember a lot about you, Moonlight!"

"T-That's... nice... that you do... um... it's..."

Magnifying captures her unsteady air quickly and his face falls to blight, ears flopping to his head. He clenches his teeth before stammering, "C-Creepy!?"

"Uhp, oh!" Moonlight becomes conscious of her facial presentation, instantly flipping her expression. "No! Not at all! It's... it's very flattering." Her wobbly smile grows to show her pearly whites.

Magnifying sighs out his soul in relief, proceeding to chuckle. "For a second there, I thought... oh! Hey! What is that?" He points towards a glowing purple mass of magic contained in a closed flask sat on lab table closest to the staircase.

"An extracted enchantment from an artifact assumed to be affiliated with the anomalies... d-don't worry, it's stable."

"Wow! Already extracting, are we? Such an advanced technique is no match for your genius! I still have so much trouble figuring out how to process the evulsion in such a way that doesn't diminish the potency of the enchant--" He face-hoofs and grumbles aloud, "What am I doing? We're supposed to be having dinner! A-Are you hungry, M-Moonlight?"

She nods three times, "I haven't eaten anything since breakfast, I am starving."

"Perfect! ... EERr! I mean, perfect! That you're wanting to eat dinner! N-Not that you're starving, that's not... that's not a good thing! I'd never say perfect to something like that!"

Moonlight's lips line momentarily, then quiver. She giggles earnestly and adjusts her glasses, "I know what you meant, silly."

Magnifying's confidence expands exponentially at seeing her happily amused at his antics. The smile that grows on him completely downplays the phony jaw-breaker he had earlier.

"Then let us eat," Moonlight declares as she begins to walk towards the table that sits their dinner. Magnifying watches her walk for a second before chuckling heartily, moving to find a seat across the one she chooses.

"I-I ordered you your favorite!" he announces proudly. "The thin spicy noodle bowl!"

"Oooo~" she coos with brightening eyes. "I haven't eaten that in... forever! ... Oh, wow. I just remembered something!"

"What's that, Moonlight?"

"The Spring before I left, we all ate there together. There was a special going on, and my favorite dish was served with--"

"--two diced boiled eggs," they both finish simultaneously.

"Yes!" Moonlight bounces in her seat, "that was the best!"

"Actually, not long after you moved away, that special became much more popular for some reason. Once the special ended, everypony kept asking for the boiled eggs, so they eventually decided to keep it a staple! Been the same ever since! Two diced boiled eggs waiting for consumption!"

"That's incredible! Haah, thank you very much, Magnifying. This is lovely."

"Pfft, psh, ooh, it's nothing~" He rubs the back of his head and flings his hoof. His magic ignites to manipulate the contents inside the big paper bag, taking out two styrofoam cups and two black plastic bowls. The bowls contain thinly cut prepared noodles and ingredients, the cups house the broth, all presented quite medium-brow, but judging from Moonlight's lusting appetite, the aesthetic hardly matters. She thanks him again when he sets down her food items and utensils for her.

She sniffs the tickling aroma of the spicy broth and licks her lips, "Mmm, it smells sooo goood~ I'm happy that you remembered this is what I enjoyed. What did you get for yourself?"

"S-Same thing!" he smiles widely.

"... Oh? If... If I recall correctly, you don't handle spicy foods very well."

"Ah well, yes! Hah! You remembered that about me! It still would be true, but you see, after you left Canterlot, I started ordering it considering I never tried it before. I was just too darn curious what it was about this bowl that you loved so much, so... I gave it a try! It took a while, but I became used to the spiciness! It's how I remembered it was your favorite! Ordering it over and over again and thinking about you!"

Moonlight's excited front nearly hits the ground at his uncanny words, but she catches herself this time. She glances at the clock very quickly, keeping her grinning smile up and chuckling half-heartedly. "V-Very thoughtful of you."

Magnifying notices her sly glance towards the clock, but decides on clearing his throat and maintaining his grin. "Well! Let's dig in!" he cheers as he uncaps the lid to his broth. His excited control over his magic leads him to open it with a bit more force than necessary, causing a sprit of hot deep-orange liquid to fly his way. Several droplets of broth stain his pure-white tux.

Both he and Moonlight inhale dreading gasps simultaneously.

"Noo!" Moonlight cries.

Magnifying blinks blankly at the stains on his very... very... expensive clothing. His gaze then shifts to Moonlight. Seeing the angst on her face, his mental track rewrites itself instantly, backtracking on his oncoming acrimony. He sits up straight and chuckles airily, "Ooh, it's okay! It's fine! I'll give it a... a thorough washing! Heha! Nothing a good cleaning can't handle!" he swings his arm in an arc.

Moonlight sinks in her seat at the thought of his snow-white clothes being stained, but takes his rather calm reaction to heart. She again quickly glances to the clock.

"So! Anyways, let's eat!" he says as he begins to, with extreme caution, pour the hot broth into the noodles. Moonlight gives a pursed smile and follows suit.

‎

~~~<

‎

A little over an hour later, their empty bowls rest cold on the lab table as they enjoy small talk, bellies full of savory food.

"Oh no, what did she do?" Moonlight asks with an enthusiastic smile.

"She stared at the letter with piercing eyes, like if she couldn't believe was she was reading! Then, believe it or not, Scribe Swirl actually started laughing too! But! What made it funnier was that Running Water had never heard Swirl laugh before, so he ran away as fast as he could thinking she was about to blow a fuse!"

Moonlight giggles in entertainment. "All of this because Running misspelled 'chicken' on a report to a preservation park?"

"Wait till you hear how he misspelled it! 'Chechin'!"

"..." Moonlight's lips quiver and she blurts out in laughter. "Che-Chin!? How did he spell it that bad?"

"Even he doesn't know! The letter of reply the park returned asked us what type of animal a 'chechin' is, and he had no idea he wrote it like that!"

Both of them share in hearty merriment, slowly recovering from their chortling until they both exhale in satisfaction.

"I don't know what got into him that day," Magnifying puts his hooves at his abdomen, "but we made very sure never to let him live it down, until maybe a year ago. The joke ran a good course, but it soured him a little. Anything that involves chickens, the animal or the word, always puts him in a bad mood. So whatever you do, keep that concept away from ol' Running."

"I shan't let my guard down~" she hums with contentment, taking a moment of repose to glance at the clock for the nth time tonight. "It's almost ten-a-clock already... that was fast."

"That was fast! Hehah! I enjoyed my time so much, it feels like I just got here!"

"It certainly was enjoyable listening to many things I missed out while I was gone. I greatly thank you, Magnifying."

"You don't need to thank me! You're my friend! You're Celestia's friend, Swirl's friend, -- heck, you're everyone's friend! You don't know how glad we are to have you back, Moonlight!"

The blue unicorn blushes slightly and turns her eyes to the table with a grateful smile.

"Say, Moonlight..." Magnifying speaks up again, taking a slightly more serious tone, "doesn't it get lonely here? In this... big room. With nopony else around?"

Moonlight's perked eyes lift to look at him, "Oh, no no, I'm not here alone all the time. Crimson? I'm certain you have met him."

"I have," he acknowledges with raised brows. "A very brave soul."

"I-Indeed he is. He visits me every night after he returns from his duties with the Royal Guard Elite... but he is late tonight... again. He should have been here roughly around the time you arrived..."

"Not surprising to hear! He does work for the Elite after all!"

"In... deed."

"He visits you every night? Huh, wow, you two must be great friends!"

Mental lightning strikes horizontally through Moonlight's brain, making her appear confused. "Uum... yes. Yes! We are. Great friends! He is very kind. He always knows what just to say when I am destitute with myself. I-In fact, he is the reason why I returned to Canterlot to begin with."

Magnifying's expression hardens for stupor. "Really? -- Wait a second. If he convinced you to return to Canterlot... does that mean he was with you beforehoof?" Moonlight nods to his assertion. "... That's... ... I see. Interesting. You two must be very close."

Moonlight looks at him in silence, growing anxious and fidgeting in her seat at his serious contemplation.

"Is he... more than a friend then?"

Her front immediately flusters up to a cherry color. Her back arches in and her chest puffs out along with her lips pursing into a tiny circle. She turns her head left and right, shaking off some of the startlement. "No! No, we're-- we're friends! I couldn't--! I-I wouldn't--! What would my parents think? With a human? I-I..."

Magnifying's hardened front eases instantly. "Ah! I see. Great! It's phenomenal that he such a great friend of yours!"

"Eheeee..." Moonlight slouches and twiddles the left lock of her mane with both hooves.

"Your parents..." Magnifying echoes, tracking back a few paces. "Oh hey! Your parents! Are they still in the Blueleaf district?"

"Y-Yes. They are. They have not told me that they've moved elsewhere, so I believe they still reside there. Wh-Why?"

"Only curious. It's been years since I've seen them! Last we converged, we were all at that Royal Ball after your promotion to Head Researcher, and you were with them, along with-- wi-- ... eurrr..." Magnifying instantly resents opening his fat mouth, heart churning at witnessing Moonlight's ears flopping to her head. "... Gah, I'm so stupid!" he slams his face with both of his hooves, and even though it hurt, he feels he deserved it. "Moonlight, I'm... I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to return such memories--"

"It's okay... I've had many years to move past it already." Her wistful gaze raises from the table up towards the clock again. It is now ten on the dot.

Magnifying follows her gaze towards the clock, staring at it quietly for a moment. He is surprised to hear her talk again not long after, a bit more lighthearted than before.

"Thank you again for the food, Magnifying Glass."

He snaps his stare back to her, mouth formed in an 'o' before creaking into a trepid grin. "Of course! No problem! It was all my pleasure! ... Uum... are... are you going to retreat soon? You look a hint fatigued."

"... I'm not sure."

"Please do rest! It is important to the well-fed mind! It's only my opinion, but nothing should get in the way of a good night's rest! Nor thing nor pony! Especially if it causes nothing but worry! So now I-I will... take my own advice and excuse myself for tonight. Thank you for having me, Moonlight. This is undeniably the most excited I have been in... in a very long time!" He rises from his seat, prompting Moonlight to do so as well.

"It was my pleasure."

"... Uuhm, Moonlight?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something? Something that's been, well... irking me since I arrived for our dinner."

"Please do ask."

"You seem... very bothered. Like something is not quite right. ... Does it have to do with mister Crimson?"

Moonlight tilts her head to the left and adjusts her glasses. "... Um..."

"You had said he should be arriving soon, and it most certainly has been much longer than soon. Mind this with your anxious glances towards the clock throughout the entire night, I-I can only infer that the source of your distress comes from him."

"... He... well, he..." She sighs and lowers her head. "... It's that obvious, is it?" Magnifying nods to her solemnly. "It does have to do with him. This is not the first time he told me he would be coming to see me at a certain time, only to arrive horribly late. A-And that isn't the main issue I have with him. It saddens me that he is never on time, but the main affliction is... is that he doesn't care for his own safety. Every time he has returned, he is hurt in some new horribly concerning way..."

"The life of a Royal Guard Elite, I'm afraid."

"I-I know, but he... it's not fair."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Moonlight, but it unfortunately comes with the job." He frowns as he gazes at her, watching her becoming tense.

"It does! But I-- ... He..." Moonlight's chest lights like a bottled rocket, trembling her frustration before bursting from between her lips. "He can't be taking so much abuse for everypony! I know for a fact that he imposes himself for the well-being of others! I even asked to be sure, I write letters to Swirl! She has been keeping me up to date on everything! On the health and status of each member of the Elite! The other members of the Elite have been coming home unscathed from their missions! Everypony but him!" She hops towards Magnifying in her unrest, pupils vibrating from her stress. "It upsets me that he doesn't care for his own safety! It really does! Because one day, he might not make it back to me! And I can't stand the thought of it!"

Magnifying coils his head back slightly at her sudden jump. "... This can't be healthy, Moonlight. I-I mean... look at you. You are overextending yourself for mister Crimson, and this mental baggage will only cause issues! You could get sick from the stress! Your experiments will become tangled! Do not take this the wrong way, but... is he truly worth this terror to your health?"

"He is! Of course he is!"

"... Is he really?"

Moonlight clenches her teeth at the repeated question, soon falling into uncertainty.

"And you said this is a recurring happening? Moonlight, if I compile what I understand, he will continue this cycle as long as he works in the Guard. It will not get any better from here."

She lets her face turn to the ground, soaking in what she is being told.

"Please, Moonlight. You are no better than mister Crimson if you do not mind your stress. Worrying so much for him is only hurting you, and I care for your well-being. I prithee you retreat for tonight, the troubles you hold can affect you no longer if you rest and contemplate."

She gawks at him in silence, letting his words bounce around her mind. With an internal debate coming to an end, her tensed shoulders and trembling eyes simmer. She breathes in deeply and nods, huffing out knots in her breath. "Maybe you are right."

"I have been there, Moonlight. It will be okay. You will feel better in the morning! I'm sure of it! And I'm sure mister Crimson can take care of himself! He is a very robust type! -- Bu-But, enough with the downtrodden! Tonight was nothing short of a blessing! Would, uhm... would you mind if we... do this again? Sometime?"

"Th... that sounds good. Did you have a time or day in mind?"

"Uum... h-how about... the day after tomorrow?"

Moonlight puts up a tiny smile and nods twice.

Magnifying's wary front beams in satisfaction. "G-Great!" His eyes drift to the lab table topped with empty dishes. "... Oh! How terribly immodest of me! Would you like some help cleaning up?"

"Nono, that's okay. I enjoy cleaning. You go ahead, I insist."

"Then I'll... I'll see you soon!" He heads for the door and makes a discreet exit, leaving Moonlight to her lonesome.

She watches the door come to a complete close before turning towards the mess on the table. Her horn glows gently, commencing the calm and therapeutic process of tidying up.

‎

~~~<

‎

She rubs a moist pink rag on the table top to spiff it shining, letting this be the last task for her frivolous clean up. She tilts her head left and right, getting slightly different viewing angles across the table just to make sure it is spotless... and it passes inspection.

She returns the rag to a sink at the far left end of her room where she keeps most of her cleaning supplies, stringing it out before leaving it on the faucet head to drip. She directs her attention to the clock, seeing that it reads about 10:50.

Sadness wells in her heart as time continues to tick away. She knew believing him when he said, "We'll be back by the evenin'," was going to lead to disappointment, but she could not help but savor his words.

Her mind now trails back to what Magnifying was telling her earlier, that she should get some sleep instead of stressing out. She acknowledged him that she should not wait for the man's return, but... it is certainly easier said than done. She feels too anxious to try and sleep, he could return at any moment. She wants to be awake and ready for him when he arrives. She wants to see him.

"But nothing should get in the way of a good night's rest! Nor thing nor pony!"

Moonlight's gaze meets the marble flooring. Maybe Magnifying is right... waiting for Crimson might just hurt her more than it is worth. Besides, he might just come back looking like a corpse again despite the grand recovery he made this morning, a possibility only now dawning on her. The grievous stress she gets seeing him constantly battered is not only something she is not used to beholding on anyone whatsoever, but especially wrenching that it is on someone she cares greatly for.

Like Magnifying said, there is a cycle forming, and it is not one she thinks she can emotionally handle for much longer.

"Especially if it causes nothing but worry!"

It may be best if she just went to bed tonight... and with hesitance, she decides this as the final course of action for today.

Click-click...

The gentle sound of her door opening behind her sounds away...

... a moment of silence passes as she dares not look behind her to see who it is.

"... Hey, Lighty."

Of course it would be him, just as she decided to let it be. Another pocket of silence comes when she does not acknowledge him.

"... Girly? You alright?"

She can hear his boots stepping close to her, so she speaks up before he gets too close. "I-I don't... I don't want to look at you," she stammers as sternly as possible.

"'N why's that?"

"Please don't ask such a thing... you know exactly what I am referring to."

"Well fear not, Lighty, it ain't nothin' serious."

It is pathetically obvious that it is serious, she can even hear a creaky rasp in his voice that certainly was not there this morning. "So you did get hurt again..."

"It ain't bad though, I'm feelin' alright," his tone comes off as appeasing as possible.

She can hear him stepping closer, looping around her side to step at her front. She closes her eyes and tucks her chin. She can feel him standing inches away from her face.

"... Ain't gonna even look at me?"

She shakes her head.

Crimson sighs and smiles wryly. "You upset that I took longer than I said I would again?"

She does not move for a second, then nods repeatedly. Despite her acknowledgement, it is obvious that there is more issues present than just that one.

"Then, I beg a million pardons." She does not react to his apology with anything other than a quick sigh. He leans a bit closer to her and murmurs, "... Moonlight? Will you bestow upon my humble self yer forgiveness?"

Her lower lip trembles, along with her nerve... then she nods once.

"M'glad. Didn't want you livin' the rest of yer life with yer eyes closed. How 'bout them beautiful pearls of yers now."

She reluctantly scrunches her face, but she opens her eyes to see him, prepared to witness what new injuries he now harbors.

And she regrets it immediately. Her pupils dilate to grains of sand, leaving her pink irises to eclipse her orbs. He looks just as grey and faded out as he did yesterday, possibly even worse right now, and his posture is slouched rather than straight and firm. "W... What is-- ... Are... are those...?" she points her hoof to the perfectly round torn holes in his duster and shirt, stained with dried life essence. Bandage wraps can be seen through those holes covering his entire torso. She also notices a white and purple paper band on his right wrist, the same band the Castle doctors give to a patient upon being checked on.

"... Yeah."

"Your voice. ... Was your lung...?"

"... Yeah."

"... No. No, Crimson, no," she shakes her head in disbelief with emotional toil growing in her glare. "A... a firearm? Out of everything in Equestria... somehow a firearm. Never did I think I would see this... but here it is. I have so many things to ask. ... How are you even alive...?" She trails down again to the paper band. "... The doctors... you were with them just now. Why did they release you?"

"Eerr..." Crimson scratches his temple, "... they, uh... didn't. Just excused myself while no one was lookin'. Got my clothes on 'n walked right out. I mean, I was already in there fer like an hour'r so, don't reckon I needed to be in that bed any longer. 'Mean, think about it. If I was really hurtin', I wouldn't be here, right?"

She puts her hoof at her cheek and shakes her head in rejection again, mouthing something in a breathy silence. She closes her eyes once more, hiding herself from the pain of having to look at him further.

Crimson puts his fists at his hips and droops his shoulders, trying his best to keep a lighthearted expression, but it is proving formidable... until it becomes impossible. With one single tear shimmering at the corner of her left eye, it quakes the body of her sorrow before it runs down her cheek.

Seeing another innocent soul weeping today desolates his very core. His throat catches at her sorrow, leaving him without words to speak. He attempts to reach his hand out to her, but even with eyes closed, she feels it coming and turns her face away. He clenches his teeth and slowly retracts his hand. "... Moonlight..."

"What am I supposed to do?" she whispers faintly. The man leans a bit closer to gesturally announce that he's listening. "What am I supposed to do if you die?"

"I'll be fine. We've talked about this--"

"Don't--!" her shoulders raise and her teeth clench, her face becoming red and shiny under her flustering. "... Don't... say... that. Don't say that you will be fine. You are never fine. You have not been fine since the day we first met. You say you're okay, and I always believe you. I hate myself for it. For the single month we have known each other, I... I have felt things..."

"... What d'you mean?"

"Nothing important. Because I know I am not worth a lot to you. If I was, you would at least try to keep yourself safe for me. I thought I would be used to it by now... being worthless..."

Crimson's front hardens.

"... but I was wrong yet again. I feel things that I shouldn't be feeling... I think of things that... that I..." She fades her sentence away in a choking breath, instead beginning a new one. "Crimson? Are... are we friends?"

"Course we are, silly filly. You ain't even gotta ask."

"... I thought so." Her response instills him with perplexity. Such a simple response feels too loaded with implications, but she does not give him time to linger on it. She opens her glistening eyes and firmly states, "I want you to retire from the Guard."

Crimson reels back with a rigid expression. "What? C'mon now, I'm fairly certain that ain't possible. Remember what Celestia said."

"I will talk to her."

"I ain't been with them longer than a week."

"That's all the time you needed to show me you won't take care of yourself."

"Moonlight, I can't just 'retire'. The Elite team-- my team-- is countin' on me too. I don't think I'm leavin' the Guard any time soon."

Abjection flows like a tide throughout her entire being at her request being denied...

"But nothing should get in the way of a good night's rest! Nor thing nor pony!"

... but only for a moment, before she suppresses and encapsulates it. Her eyes lose a certain shimmer to them, falling half-lidded and weary. "... I'm going to bed." She begins a path towards the staircase, attempting to walk around the man...

... but he sidesteps in front of her. "'N where you goin'?"

"I only want to go to bed."

"Why do I feel like that ain't the truth."

"What else do you want from me? You already said you aren't leaving the Guard. There is nothing else to discuss. ... I want to go to bed..."

"... By yer lonesome?"

Moonlight's gaze remains forward, blank and depressed. "It goes without saying."

Crimson purses his lips, a sharp sting more painful than any bullet could give surges through his heart. He actively tries to think of something to say to her, but... nothing's coming out.

"... From now on, I advise that you sleep in your assigned room."

"... Why?" is the only word that makes it past his lips.

"I'll need to get used to it. Because when you die, there will be no one else around to be with me. I... I must become accustomed to being alone again."

"M... Moonlight, c'mon now, that ain't somethin' you should be thinkin' about. I'm tellin' you, I'll be-- ... erh." He catches himself, already seeing the churning bitterness in her face. "... Understand, Moonlight. I can't just abandon the Guard. They need the help."

"Do they?" she retorts calmly but quickly.

"Yeah, they do."

"Reports say they were completing their tasks just fine prior to your arrival..."

"They're missin' a frontliner, he died a while back ago."

"Captain Winter regularly hosts trials for the Elite... they could acquire another prominent soldier from the Guard."

"... I don't reckon Celestia is gonna wanna break me outta my duty so quickly. I haven't even gotten paid yet."

"You have. You did. Two days ago. Your payment was sent to my name in the Treasury... since you never made a file of your own."

"That still leaves my deal with Celestia."

"I will talk to her."

Crimson sighs, seeing that every point he has made has had a fair counter. He cannot dismiss Moonlight's ability to make a request such as breaking Crimson out of his duty with Celestia. So now he finds himself stuck between a delicate balance... continue working for the Elite and further toil Moonlight's graces, but press in the pursuit of the anomalies... or retreat and save Moonlight from mounting grief.

But here and now, off the top of his head, he is not sure what else he would do. The magical anomaly he witnessed, the mission to learn of and suppress these phenomena, it is all tied to the Elite. They have the plans, the skill, the information, the know-how, with all of it backed by the most powerful capitol in Equestria. This was his job, this is the reason why he wanted to stay in Equestria... or so he thinks...

Nevertheless, he can't just let this go. He balls his hands into fists and stands up with slightly better posture. "Moonlight..." She doesn't even blink at her name being called, but he knows she's listening. "... I've got a proposition fer you." Her eyes finally lift up to gaze at his face. "I'll stay with the Guard..." Her eyes fall back down to a void state. "... but I promise to take better care of myself."

Her orbs return to his front, bemused and untrusting.

Crimson comes down to one knee, looking right into her eyes as they move away to stare at nothing. He smiles halfheartedly, "I know you ain't got a reason to believe me, but trust me on this." He lifts his index knuckle to gently wipe her cheek of the drying tear that ran earlier, proceeding to caress the base of her ear. It flicks in chilling enjoyment at the touch, but it does little to ease her heavy heart. "You aren't worthless, 'n you've never been. Not to me, not to Celestia. If it takes me holdin' back from trouble to ease yer spirit, I'll do it. I'd do just about anythin' fer you, Moonlight. ... I care about you more than you might realize."

Moonlight's quivering mouth lines for a tiny smile, followed by a dejected chuckle. "... I really am hopeless."

"Why's that?"

"... Because... I'm starting to trust you again. I can't believe myself..."

Crimson can't help but chuckle lightly in return, moving forward to fully embrace her. She doesn't reply with a hug of her own, but allows it to happen without contest.

"... I tried being firm with you. I tried to... be upset at you, but... I failed. Miserably."

He eases off the hug to look at her, still keeping a modest smile. "M'sorry that I trouble you, girly."

"... It's okay."

"... Did you wanna go to bed... all by yer lonesome still?"

She slowly shakes her head, "That would be the last thing I'd want... but I'm not going to sleep until you let me look at your wounds. I want to take care of them."

"But them doctors already did."

"I want to... I want to do it. Please."

"... Sure. Go right ahead." Despite the green light, Moonlight remains unmoving, only looking at him in discontent. "You're prettier when you ain't scowlin' at me."

His words garner a trepid turn-away of her gaze followed by a light blush of her cheeks... still, she doesn't seem to be making an active effort to move upstairs... perhaps waiting for something.

His smile grows a little wider as he stands up to his full length and walks to her side. "Hmh, c'mere, you." He leans down to pick her up bridal style, moving to walk her upstairs. The easiness in her expression glows brighter in his hold, it was exactly what she was waiting for.

This is what he adores about her. It's as if he was caring for a daughter of his own... a daughter that worries for him and loves him. He sees a lot of his sister in her, making the familial connection even stronger.

He marches her and himself into the bathroom. Moonlight uses everything at her disposal to carefully and methodically treat the holes in his body. To her unsurprise, his wounds stain his bandages with fresh blood, having opened back up from moving his body too much. Ignoring the doctor's orders and foolishly walking across the entire Castle was not a sound course of action even for this stubborn mule of a man.

Soon enough, his wounds are treated and his body is wrapped up again.

‎

~~~<

‎

"So how was yer day, Moonlight?" Crimson asks nonchalantly.

"It was... okay," Moonlight solemnly utters, rested on her bed next to him. She gazes at the glowing stars that hang from her ceiling, how gently they turn from left to right. "Yours?"

"'Side from the gun incident, not too shabby. Met up with the other Robes at Las Pegasus."

"Oh, that's right. I had forgotten that's where you were headed. How were the others?"

"A pleasure. That Lightheart Trot girl was a kind after my own heart."

"... W-Was she, now."

"Smart as can be with a child-like personality. I really liked 'er, 'n she took a fancy to me too. Got along real well."

Moonlight gazes at the stars, unable to think of anything additive to say. She can feel her cheeks heating up at hearing him say these things... so she opts to stay silent.

"Then that Running Water fella was an interestin' type," Crimson continues. "Definitely doesn't look or act the part of a high-tailored researcher."

"H-He's always been that way. Never took anything seriously."

"Then lastly, that older one... Collateral..." Moonlight's ears perk up at the tone of Crimson's voice. "Don't think he 'n I will get along very well."

"Why is that?"

"He's got an ego on 'em. He even said yer mini-ANA blueprint was 'rudimentary'. The nerve."

"... Oh," she hums with disappointment.

"Bastard couldn't figure it out before. That's what you said, right?"

"I-I did, but... but I wasn't trying to berate him. It was mostly my fault, the old ANA blueprint was very jumbled and nonsensical. He is correct about this new blueprint you delivered to him, it is quite streamlined now. I'm glad he thinks it to be simpler."

"You 'n me both know that's bull, Moonlight. Why don't you just admit that yer a greater intellect than he is?"

"Because... because I'm not. He deserved Head Researcher, not me."

"Listen." He turns his head to face her and waits for her to do the same. Once they make eye contact, his stern front lightens for a sympathetic smile. "From an outsider lookin' in, I think you've earned yer keep. What's the best that Collateral's done? What's he donned ont'a the cap of society?"

"Well, he, um... he makes things. All sorts of things."

"Like?"

"... Umm... uuh... he-- Oh! I know! The magic call button! He made that!"

"... He made that coin of garbage that only lasts a few seconds then busts? Woopty-shit."

"T-That's not very nice, Crimson. It is a grand stride in telecommunications, even if only in a beta state. "

"We had to use 'em fer our mission. If those damn call buttons didn't suck, Snowfall could'a relayed more info to us prior to arrivin' at the battlefield. I probably wouldn't have gotten shot."

Moonlight sinks in recognition. "... That's... that's true..."

"Now I get why Collateral gave Bulletpoint some burnin' eyes when he smashed his call button on the lab floor. Didn't say nothin' about it 'cause it was all hectic, but I get it now. 'N now that I do, I'd do the same damn thing."

"Did Bulletpoint really destroy Researcher property?"

"Sure did, 'n I'd join 'em. Button sucked like a calf on their mother."

"... Okay, maybe he doesn't make things very well. But he has had a hoof in perfecting things being made! That is how he made it as a researcher when he was young, by taking incomplete projects and finding a way to make it work!"

"Then why doesn't he do that on his own creation?"

"... I couldn't give you a concrete answer. Maybe he is overthinking his process since... well, it is his own creation."

"Yeah, well, 'til he learns to sit his ego down, him 'n I ain't got business. Now, I've been goin' on about me. What about you? Can't tell me you stood in yer room alone all day."

Moonlight takes a few seconds to respond, turning her head back to the glittering stars above. "... Neither. I... I left my room." Crimson's brows arc in astonishment. "... I went to the library garret today. As you told me yesterday, I needed to acquire information on the belt, so I... I donned my robe and I ventured. Fortunately, I was never detected by anypony of note, and the guards are very kind to me."

"Very brave of you, Lighty."

"... Was that sarcasm?"

"Heh. Partially~"

"Hmph," Moonlight looks at him again and scowls. She closes her eyes and huffs, returning her face towards the ceiling. "I acquired the essential documents needed for my research, and I found what I was searching for. Snowfall should have a full report tomorrow."

"Never cease to impress. Say, you went to the library, right?"

"Mm," she nods.

"Cherry Snow there?"

Her eyes beam instantly, causing her to turn her head quickly and stare at him again. "Ch-Cherry...? How do you...?"

"Celestia told me. Supposedly you two were great friends, 'n she works at the library here. She didn't notice you?"

"... She-She wasn't... at the counter when I arrived..."

"Mm. Odd. ... Well anyways now, about the other part I was wrong about?"

"The other thing...? Ah! Yes, I was not alone. Once I returned to my room and finished my research, I had made... plans. With Magnifying." Crimson's brows raise even higher while Moonlight's tone wavers. "We decided to have dinner in my room... together."

"Well now, ain't that a pleasant surprise," Crimson grins merrily. "Sooner than I expected too. Our bumbling mister make the first move?"

"I-If you are asking whether or not he initiated the proposition, y-yes. He did."

"Why you gotta word it like that, Lighty? Just say he asked you out on a date~"

"A-A-A date!?" she grips the blankets that cover her tightly. "It-It-- ... It was nothing of the sort!"

"No need to hide it, girly. I'm glad yer seein' someone, 'n none-other than a fella from yer younger days. It's good fer you to love someone. It gives you somethin' worth fightin' for if nothin' else. Trust me, been there."

Moonlight rubs the ankles of her hindlegs with her hind hooves, alternating between each leg in an anxious manner. "... If I may ask..."

"My sister," Crimson completes for her knowingly. "Viola." He smiles at saying her name, eyes glittering under the shimmer of the moon. "She was, 'n still is, my somethin' to fight for. When my ma' died, she 'n I where the only ones left of my family. Brother, mother, father... gone. Nothin' but gravestones in the backyard, waitin' to return to the earth. Provide minerals to the tree they were buried under. ... Viola. She was the one I fought for after everything I knew broke apart. She was the reason I got outta bed in the mornin'... she was the reason I did anythin', really. It, uh... it took a while, but I learned to get over all that came my way. I shot my look forward, 'n that's where I've kept it ever since."

Moonlight's somber front slowly turns for a simper, feeling joy of her own in hearing of his previous triumph.

"But enough about me. Let's get back to your night with none-other. How'd it go with 'em?"

"U-Um, well... it was... fine. W-We talked a lot about things that happened while I was gone, and it was fun. I'm happy that I was able to talk to him today!"

As she speaks, Crimson's smiling expression churns to doubt. The way her tone is slowly gaining psudo-excitement is a dead giveaway that something troubles her. "... So what's the issue then?"

"W-Wuh?" her gaze snaps to him.

"C'mon now, no need to play the fool. Somethin's buggin' you, 'n it's gonna keep buggin' me till you get it off yer chest."

She purses her lips at being so easily found out, unable to focus her eyes on just one thing. A brief silence passes before she sighs out, "... There... there was one thing. A-And please, don't misunderstand, I had an amazing time, s-so much so that we plan on eating together again! It's only that... only that... well..." she trails off, looking down at her hooves. "... He made me feel... strange sometimes... when he was talking."

"Already gettin' googlie fer him?" he snickers.

"N-No! A st-stark contrast... to what I am attempting to convey..."

"Hm? Sayin' stuff that made you uncomfortable then. Like what?"

"... Um... he... he'd say things like, he thought about me a lot when I was gone, what things I used to like, a-and even where I used to leave things. Such a strange accuracy in his memories of me, as if... he had studied me heavily or something of that sort."

"Ooh. Well ain't that the kicker. Love-struck, ain't he?"

"L-Lovestruck?"

"People soaked with adore fer another person tend to say some weird stuff now 'n again. They also remember lots a weird things about them too, I can vouch fer it. It ain't that he's tryin'a be weird, he just really, really likes you. I respect that."

"I..."

"Don't try to over-analyze things that folk like him might say, he's a real skittish one. I'm thinkin' he cares about you, 'n that's great. Havin' someone to unconditionally love will fuel yer fire."

Moonlight hides her flustering face under the blankets, leaving only her eyes exposed. She silently acknowledges what he is saying, but... for some reason, it is causing a hole in her stomach... something she wants to advert... to correct...

"Well, I'm glad yer day was fueled with somethin'. Last thing I want you to do is sit here 'n do nothin'. Ain't good fer yer health to do that, not physically not mentally."

His words echo several times through both of them, being the last words spoken before a lengthy moment of silence...

...

"It really hurts me to think about it," she suddenly murmurs, ogling the glowing stars above again.

"Mm? What does?" he replies, also watching the stars lazily dangle.

"... You."

"Hmh. You sound like my sister."

"Then I'm happy her and I see you the same way. Hasn't it occurred to you that if you weren't you, you would have died because of those lead projectiles?"

"Y'mean bullets?"

"Y-Yes, bullets, that is the word I was looking for. I'm not a firearm aficionado, so I did not-- ... deh-- Don't change the subject!"

"Heh."

"This is no laughing matter! It hurts me to think about this... how you wouldn't be here with me if you couldn't survive the things you do."

He smiles to the stars above, taking a moment to simply mellow out. "... Yeah. Seen plenty'a people in my life die to much less than what I walk away from. Always did wonder why I was born what I am. Never was the grand standin' of justice 'r righteousness, nothin' like an angel should be."

"You don't have to be in order to be a good pony... or, um, person. And you are a great person... so much so that you constantly put yourself at risk for others."

"You give me a lotta credit 'cause you know me as I am now. Trust me when I say I wasn't always a very nice fella." Moonlight stays quiet and snuggles into her blankets, waiting for him to elaborate. "I killed people fer money. If I got lucky, got to hogtie 'em. Whichever was easier at the moment. Wasn't a glorious job, but it fetched supper."

"... L-Like a bounty hunter?"

"That's exactly it."

"But, that means you only hurt bad people."

"Suppose. But with a job like that, you ain't got a clue who's right and who's leadin' you on. Been more than once that someone who didn't deserve to get shot ended up with a hole in their chest... 'n sometimes, the smokin' barrel that caused that tragedy was my own. I don't think a 'good person' would end up killin' someone who didn't deserve to die."

"B-But... accidents happen..."

Crimson smiles, turning his head left and right, rubbing the back of his head against the pillow. "They sure do. Sure are oddly calm about the evil deeds I've done, girl."

"You're not an evil person, Crimson... I know you aren't. If you were, you would have hurt me already."

"... Couldn't imagine it, hurtin' someone like you... but if you were in a bad place at a bad time, my old self might not have even batted an eye. At some point, I made too many accidents to keep lettin' 'em bother me... all because I made the mistake of alignin' myself with an old friend."

"Old friend?" she asks skeptically.

"Farthest thing one could be to a friend, actually. Spent most of my childhood with that bastard. His family 'n mine were close. They led a gang that worked like a 'gater in water, every move they made was quick 'n accurate. You could hardly tell they existed from how well they worked behind curtains of the public's ignorance. But from what little everyone knew about 'em, they looked like the guardians of the west. Almost like heroes you'd read in them fairytale books. They swoop in outta nowhere to save the day..."

Moonlight puts her hooves together at her chest, contemplating.

"... that is, till that old friend of mine stuck his trenched foot into the paintin'. All that became of that gang was chaos. Soon enough, I found myself doin' the things I hated. Wasn't long before I left 'em though. I had enough sanity in my head to reckon I didn't belong with a bunch of deranged outlaws. Kinda like them Wildmanes you got here."

"You encountered them. ... I should have expected that the Wildmanes were responsible for your injuries."

"They seem like a problem, 'specially since they blackmarket guns."

"I'm unacquainted with their kind, I only know about them because of what others tell me. They dare not come anywhere near bigger cities... still, I know that they are extremely dangerous in the plains of Equestria."

"No kiddin'. Haven't seen a gatlin' like the one they had since I was a boy. Just as terrifyin' as I remember 'em. They probably woulda done me in if it weren't fer--... well, shit, I nearly forgot to tell you."

"Mm?" Moonlight gives him her undivided attention, turning herself onto her side to look at him.

"A magic anomaly. We saw one with our bare eyes." Moonlight gasps with hooves at her mouth. "Yeah. We witnessed firsthand what it done to the things it touched... almost seemed to pick 'n choose what it wanted to lay out. Them Wildmanes had this iron 'r steel flatbed that carried the gun, and it rusted it through-in-through. Then the actual Wildmanes it touched... well, this might be hard to believe, but they all grew old 'n turned to flakes. Right then and there, they aged so damn quick it's as if someone grabbed their clock 'n spun it forward."

"That sounds something out of a nightmare..."

"Unfortunately fer us, it's more than just a dream. Now, the damndest part was when it disappeared. It just went 'n vanished like a ghost in the wind. It didn't do none of the environmental corruption you told me about a while back, it just aged stuff 'n left."

"This is much more complicated than we initially thought. With what you are telling me, I'm beginning to believe we're dealing with the most occult magic of them all... time magic."

Crimson's brows furrow. "I already saw what it was capable of doin', but I reckon this is only the beginnin'."

"Huh!" Moonlight gasps again, sitting up completely. "Did Swirl acquire the magic signature from the anomaly? If she acquired the signature, then we could--!"

Crimson glances at her and shakes his head. "She said she'll explain it all to you in a letter tomorrow. There was a lot goin' on when the anomaly struck, we didn't really get an opportunity."

"... I see," her excitement deflates instantly. She lies back down and stares at the stars again, falling into thought.

"So what was the deal with them yaks anyway?" he turns his head as he asks his question, and she turns onto her side again to face him with a returning pique of enthusiasm.

"Mm, right! As I stated, I conducted research on the belt held by the yaks. More specifically, the yak prince. It turns out that this belt is indeed a magical artifact, one that increases the strength of the wearer by a considerable amount. From what I gathered, the yak prince keeps this relic as a token of pride. Many different factions and tribes have tried to acquire the belt from them, via barter or violence, and none of them have been able to take it from them."

"Aaah," Crimson beams in realization. "Yeah, there was a letter we snatched from the Featherlines when we trailed to their camp. It was written by the camp lieutenant, sayin' somethin' about takin' by force. I reckon this is what they were talkin' about. Hm, figure Swirl 'n Snowfall are gonna wanna hear 'bout this."

"Mm," she nods, "I will reply to Swirl's letter with everything she needs to know."

"Great. Looks like everythin' will get assembled tomorrow. Knowin' Snowfall's pace, the next mission will be prompt in the mornin'. Gettin' excited."

Moonlight's bemusement returns with his last claim. "... You cannot be telling me what I think you are."

"Why not? I ate a big meal on the way back to Canterlot. I'll feel better in the mornin', just like yesterday."

"Can you seriously expect me to believe you will make another miraculous overnight recovery? Especially with wounds much more grievous than before?"

"I do, 'n I'll tell you why," he grins facetiously. "Ready to hear it?"

She purses her lips and furrows her brows at him, prepare to listen to whatever excuse he is going to deliver.

"'Cuz when I get a good night's rest, my body heals quickly. I noticed somethin' while I was out with the Elite today, somethin' I shoulda caught up on sooner..."

"...?" Moonlight tilts her head dubiously.

Crimson sits up to lean his face closer to hers, leaving their noses an inch apart. Her eyes widen and glitter under the night light, with a blush quickly enveloping her face. "I sleep better when it's with my favorite science gal~" He reaches his hand and gently scraggles her mane, giving her a closed-eyed smile before returning to his side of the bed.

"... Hw... Hwuh...?" she stammers in her flustered bewilderment.

"Don't believe me? Then we'll set up an experiment here tonight. If I knock out like a rock 'n wake up feelin' spry, then it ain't a hoax. How 'bout it?"

"... I... well, I..." she blinks rapidly and keeps her eyes turned away from his. "... Am I really... your favorite science girl?"

"None other better~ Now c'mere, let's get some sleep."

Moonlight hesitates in her embarrassment, but scoots closer to him and hugs his arm. She rests her forehead on his shoulder and closes her eyes.

Returning to his embrace, there is no delay in her remembrance as to why she enjoys him so much, why she trusts him so much. The soothing warmth in her heart flutters her happiness in this moment. Truly, as she lies here with him, she can relax like nothing else. He even promised that he'd take better care of himself, and he has yet to break his first promise. Maybe she can comfortably place her faith in his words this time.

...

Friends.

Red Snow

~ Canterlot Castle, Moonlight's Room ~<
February 7th, Saturday, 7:29

‎

"... You were right," Moonlight hums halfheartedly from her bed to Crimson, who is in the bathroom examining himself before leaving for the day's excursion. The mare blinks her sleepy eyes as she watches him study himself in the mirror.

"Looks like it, huh," he replies with a modest smile at himself.

"Two miraculous overnight recoveries..."

"All in due to you~"

Moonlight continues watching him, holding herself from speaking momentarily. She adjusts her glasses and blinks out more exhaustion, attempting to find imperfection upon the skin of his face.

She finds nothing of the sort. His words ring clearly in her mind - mostly his flattery. She admires him for a moment longer, bravely so, as he does not look towards her right now.

It takes a deep inhale through her nostrils to ask her next question. "... Are you sure you want to do this?"

"We're headed to a little village, right? That's what Swirl wrote in her letter. How hard can it be?"

"It's-- Um, it's that... the yaks... they tend to be, um... difficult to deal with."

"Aggressive?"

"No no, not aggressive. They are a peculiar kind. They very much enjoy fighting and power, not for the sake of violence, but because of their culture. They see fighting as we see having a conversation. To them, strength warrants respect."

"Hm. Peculiar is right." He pumps the collar to his duster, still seeing that it contains holes from the other day. The holes in his body have yet to fully heal and are definitely sore, but he feels telling Moonlight that might not be a great idea. Regardless, they are doing much better than they were a day ago, all in due to the seraphic essence that flows through his veins. "Swirl said I'm gonna be fitted with armor?"

"Yes, it was Captain Winter's idea. It appears that even she is looking out for your health. She wants you as safe as possible for this next operation."

"Not sure it's all that necessary, but I can't exactly refuse her offer now since it was made for me the night before..." he briefly glances to Moonlight, "... without my knowin'."

The mare shrinks and looks away, but pastes her gaze on him again when he refocuses on the bathroom mirror. "E-Even she understands how stubborn you can be, knowing that you would object to having protection made exclusively for you. I will never understand that about you."

"Hate to burden others, is all. I ain't even payin' for it."

Moonlight stays quiet to his simple reply, feeling as if she spoke too soon on his actions. In the light he presents, she understands the sentiment. Even so, the nagging feeling of discomfort on behalf of his neglected safety remains firm and true.

Watching him leave for yet another venture into the untamed lands of Equus is pressing down on her. Being careful is easier said than done, and she deeply hopes he was being genuine. Remnants of the stress she felt last night still lingers, more than she thought it would.

Moonlight turns herself around to face the bedroom, looking past the balcony rails at the large clock. She reads the time. "... Do you have to leave this early?"

"Gotta be at the field by eight-thirty."

"That's an hour away. I-Is there something you're planning on doing before? I-I don't mean to pry, but it certainly won't take you that long to walk to the field."

"Got me there, Lighty. Long story short, yesterday's mishap didn't just leave a mark on my team. Them Wildmanes ransacked a caravan that was makin' its rounds." He halts, letting his eyes fall to the sink morosely. "... There was this filly there. Both her parents were killed in the attack, along with every other adult there. That girl was the only survivor."

Moonlight presses her hooves at her chest and gasps, "hoomy goodness, that's so horrible!"

"... Yeah. It was... unfortunate. We took her with us back to Canterlot. She's still in the Infirmary. Just takin' it upon myself to go check up on her. She was out like a light after the doctors made sure she was alright 'n nothin' was broken. ... Probably still asleep."

"... I-I..." The start of her word draws Crimson's attention, having him gaze directly at the bashful mare. "... I would like to see her too... if that's okay."

The man's front lightens at her request. "Feel like goin' now?"

"Y-Yes, just, let me just brush my teeth and we'll be on our way." He nods and steps out of the bathroom, swapping places with her.

Moonlight proceeds to practice her morning routine before traveling downstairs to don her robe, ready to traverse the Castle halls with Crimson at her side.

‎

~~~<

‎

"I highly disapprove of this, my angel! I highly, highly disapprove!" a pastel white and red-maned nurse scolds frantically as she follows Crimson down the patient room halls.

"Appreciate the concern, ma'am, but I'm fine."

"You are most certainly not! Apertures in the body do not heal overnight!"

"Hmh, reckon they don't," he smiles casually. "So which room was it again?"

The nurse scoffs, squinting her amber eyes. "Prithee, my angel! Listen to my warnings!"

"Room four-six, right?"

The nurse holds her scowl.

Crimson turns to give her his gaze, fronting her with a look of amusement. "I'll take that as a yes. Thanks by the way, miss Redheart. I'm in debt to you for yer help yesterday."

"But we are not yet through with your treatment! Therapy may be necessary!"

Moonlight keeps staring at the ground as she walks alongside the man, her identity still shrouded under her robes. She glances at each tile that appears in her view, playing a little game with herself to avoid stepping on the creases between them while she listens. She silently sympathizes with the nurse's concern and frustration.

She 'meeps' in surprise when she runs into Crimson's thigh, halting herself and taking a step back.

"Woah, careful there, miss Nightlight," the man snickers. "Almost got me with yer horn. Righty'o so, here we are. Room four-six."

The nurse grunts in aggravation before turning to Moonlight. "A stubborn one, isn't he, miss Nightlight?" Moonlight nods quickly, keeping her face lowered. Conveniently enough, before further prodding can ensue, nurse Redheart hears her name called from down the hall. She releases her exasperation in a quick huff of breath. "Please, miss Nightlight, look after him. If this is how he presents himself after being marred, it is only a matter of time before he ends up in a stretcher again!"

"You ain't gotta worry, miss Redheart," Crimson claims with a grin, placing his hand on the door handle. "She definitely looks after me. Probably won't be havin' me back for a while, I reckon."

"Hmph! I will be the first scalding face you see when you return!" She stomps off, glaring at her difficult patient until she turns a corner and breaks line of sight.

"... She's gone, Lighty," Crimson hums quietly.

Moonlight lifts her head a little, glancing around quickly. She then looks up to Crimson with a dissatisfied pout. "... Nightlight?"

"What? I ain't good with names. 'Sides, she ain't suspect a thing."

"You could have at least tried to make them not so similar!"

"I'll come up with somethin' better next time." He chuckles while returning his look to the door.

His jubilance gradients to a resting expression upon looking into the patient room through the door's window. There are two beds, with the one closest to the door being occupied and the other empty. He cannot see her through the curtains that shade the perimeter of her bed, but he sees her silhouette through it from the sun's shine.

Just as he expected... no visitors. No mother, no father. No one. If any of her relatives are alive and well, he assumes they still have not gotten wind of her situation yet. She is alone in her room, and judging from her lack of motion, still asleep.

He clicks the door open and pushes it in, allowing Moonlight entry first. He steps in after her and closes the door, moving then to pull the door window shutters down. Both of them approach the foot-end of the bed, peeking past the curtains to gaze upon the tiny sleeping bundle of innocence.

She rests with a pink marmot plush, and both of her bite-sized wings are splayed out lazily to her sides.

Moonlight removes her hood with her hoof, her eyes half-lidding with compassion. "... She's... so adorable..."

"... Yeah. Still out like a light. Guess she didn't get as good'a rest as I thought she did."

"It looks like she was crying recently... maybe in her sleep. Oh, poor little thing..."

"After what she went through, bound to have nightmares. Told the doctors yesterday night to get into contact with anyone who is related to 'er. Seein' no one around's got me thinkin' they haven't found anyone yet. 'R maybe we're early."

"I hope early, I-I'd hate to think that... that she has no family remaining other than her mother and father."

Crimson brings his index knuckle to the corner of his brow. "... Mm, now that I'm recallin', I do remember someone who could still be around. Didn't see her at the wreckage."

"A sibling?"

"Maybe. Remember Furi's parents talkin' about a possible sister of hers, or some other relative."

"Is that... her name?" She looks to the sleeping filly.

"Mhm. Pretty, ain't it? Not a name I've ever heard before."

"... It is. A very pretty name indeed. Did-- ... did you have any more information about this sister of hers?"

"Just recall somethin' about a sister's friend havin' a bad experience with a human. The wreckage had a few stallions 'n one mare, the mare bein' Furi's mother. With any luck, Furi's potential sibling is still alive."

"If this sibling is still well, then she must be informed about their sister being in Canterlot. Where was this family originally from?"

"Dodge Junction. You familiar with it?"

"I am. A town well known for their beers, and like it's name suggest, a junction for several breakpoints in the Equestrian rail road. I have only been there once when I was younger for a school trip." Moonlight's ears lose their height, now resting flat on her head despondently. "... Since I have nothing planned today, I-I will take it upon myself to reach out to Furi's family member. I do not wish to chance the Consortium being the only party to extend a hoof, and a possibly unreliable one at that. I only pray that this sibling is okay. Leaving such a young little filly as this... alone..."

Crimson shifts his glance from Furi to Moonlight upon hearing her voice quiver at the final word.

"... Even as we speak right in front of her, she hasn't moved a muscle. She is probably so exhausted from crying throughout the night..."

The man lines his lips, feeling the pressing weight of emotion in his chest. He comes down to one knee to wrap his arm around Moonlight and hold her. He sees her combating the urge to cry; her eyes tremble and glisten under the light of orange morning sun punching through the window.

"Sounds like a great idea, Moonlight," he coos to her gently. "Ain't gotta worry none, she'll be with family again soon enough."

Her mouth quivers open, coming closed again, then reopening to speak, "I dearly hope so."

Her final words break her fortitude. She tightly shuts her eyes before nestling her head against Crimson's. They remain together until time itself demands them to part.

‎

~~~<

‎

The man crunches grass beneath him as he halts under the tree in the Guard field, standing before his usual team. They were already looking at him coming as soon as he stepped out onto the field.

"Well I'll be. Look at you," Snowfall states with a smile... a very modest smile. The most overtly expressive one Crimson has ever seen on her. It treats him a certain way to see her showing some emotion like this, driving him to smile back. "You weren't kidding, a meal and a nap was all you needed to bring you back to life. You're coming today after all."

"Couldn't be left out now, could I?"

"You certainly are one of a kind. Wish we had you much earlier."

"Seriously, mate!" Bulletpoint blurts. "Plenty of topsy shit we coulda blown through if you were around years back!"

"He is here now, that is all that matters," Swirl calls seriously. "We may discuss his otherworldly nature on the balloon, it is about time we proceeded to the Frozen North."

"You got that right," Snowfall says as she turns towards the trunks. "Everything in these check out, Bulletpoint?"

"Yes, cap'n!"

"Good. -- Oh, I almost forgot. Crimson."

"Armor?"

"Head Researcher got you up to date, then. Good. The Royal Tailor teamed up with the Castle blacksmith to forge it for you at my request. I jumped through a lot of last-minute hoops to convince the Consortium to expend resources on an unofficial affiliate of the Guard. I expect you to wear it.”

At hearing the trouble he indirectly caused, Crimson fends off his displeasure by rubbing his forehead. “Can't say no to it since it’s already made. Be doin' more than myself a disservice denyin' it. Bring 'er here.”

Snowfall slips her hoof out of her silver slipper, bringing it to her mouth and whistling. Out from the Castle’s exit to the yard, Glitter and a team of tailor mares behind her come trotting out. They are each carrying a piece of Crimson’s newly-crafted armor, trekking across the field and towards him.

The mares stop at his front, scrutinizing him rather harshly. Then, some of the mares abruptly reach in to pull and yank at his body so he stands a certain way, while others begin to strap on the armor. It is a very fast and very efficient process. His bracers are secured on first, his breastplate comes on next, fitting comfortably over his duster, then his shoulder plates are seated. One of the tailor mares is definitely enthused to strap on Crimson’s crotch guard, taking a little more time than necessary to click the straps to his chest piece. His leggings are the last piece of armor to be secured by the fast-moving team of tailor ponies.

It probably would have been an even faster process if these tailor ponies used their horns instead of getting hoofsy placing everything, each one of them being a unicorn and all.

Finally, Glitter herself stands before him. She leaps up onto her hindlegs, using her left forehoof to balance herself on Crimson’s armor-covered abdomen. She holds a silver helmet with white plumes in her right hoof. Since she's too short to actually reach up to his head, he bows his neck to give her some leverage. She then dons it on him, sliding it perfectly onto his head.

The measurements for the armor are outstanding, every piece fits snug and proper. They were obviously designed to be fitted specifically with his duster attire as it rests perfectly across his clothing.

The armor is also rather heavy as well, Crimson thinks on how the mares were able to lug these pieces and put them on so effortlessly. Truly an amazing team. They are the tailors for royalty and no less, albeit lacking a little bit of modesty.

Glitter still stands against him. She reaches her hoof over to lift her cyan-tinted shades, revealing her lustrous, bright green eyes. She scrutinizes Crimson’s form up and down... and her body shivers with goosebumps.

“Mmh, yes!" she huffs with ecstasy. "A stallion in a propa suit of armar gives me SENSATIONS in all de right PLACES!” Still balanced on his body, she leans in, pulling his head down by his collar, then plasters her lips onto his, making the kiss as wet and sloppy as possible. Crimson raises his left brow at her unannounced smothering.

Yeah. Definitely lacking modesty.

Snowfall and her team watch this happen. No one looks amused by this, upset even, yet almost expectant of it from someone like Glitter. The captain promptly reaches over and yanks her away from him, eyeing the lust-ridden mare tiredly. “Save it, Royal Tailor. On-duty guards will get into some serious trouble performing P.D.A.”

“Aa! Yes! Is perfect!" Glitter suddenly blurts, paying no attention to Snowfall. "I know what next year’s summer line will be!” She poses in a very odd manner, standing on her hindlegs and hugging herself, “It will be: PUBLIC. DISPLAY. OF EXHIBITION!" Her tailor underlings nod with closed eyes and stomp their hooves on the grass. "We go!”

And with that, she and her team turn about-face and march back into the Castle as one collective unit. The Elite squad give the Royal Tailor an annoyed following of the eyes as they watch her leave.

Snowfall redirects her attention to Crimson, seeing that he is too busy examining himself to bother with the tailors any longer, moving and turning himself to admire the handy-work of the armor. “Hm, at least that air-headed dressmaker got one thing right,” she muses. Crimson shifts his eyes to her. “You do look good in that armor.”

“Thanks, though I ain't big on the helmet,” he says, knocking on it. "Rest of it's fine."

“You have my permission to take it off, just don’t lose it, or it comes out of your paycheck. Everything else stays on, non-negotiable.”

"With gratitude," he says while reaching to pull off the helmet.

"I'm sure you know where we're headed, but I'll give you a quick debrief of the locals."

He motions his head to the left to fling strands of hair out of his face, holding his helmet like a football. "Right."

"The yaks are a warrior-type, so be prepared if they get antsy. Our job is only to negotiate peacefully. One wrong move and we might have a problem. There is no room for error, it is crucial we retrieve this belt for our researchers."

"Yeah, after that run-in with the anomaly, we can't risk lettin' it go."

"Exactly. I'm ready to say we won't return to Canterlot without it. But if everything goes to plan, if everything rides out smoothly, we'll be in and out before the sun is down."

"Hmh, heard that one before..."

Snowfall raises her brows and looks to her right with a shrug. "This will be a first for everypony. None of us have ever dealt with the yaks in their homeland. Combine this with the fact that we don't know a lot about them, we're on shaky ground. Stay on alert at all times."

"Will do."

She glances towards the balloon in the distance, seeing it fully inflated. "We're green, Elite."

‎

‎

~ Yakyakistan, Central Snow Fields ~<
February 7th, Saturday, 15:47

‎

The ride takes all morning and runs into the afternoon, but eventually, the team arrives at the snowy lands of Yakyakistan. The air balloon lands gently on the snow, no immediate signs of life around their area of operations.

The landing was about fifty meters away from a massive wooden perimeter, which according to Snowfall, is the border of the yak village. Their inhabitants and belongings are inside this huge wooden wall, encompassing almost an entire square mile of land.

The squad unloads from the basket and gets some stretches in. Crimson’s feet sink a few inches into the snow, and he takes in the white wonderland. He hardly saw snow where he was from, so seeing it in such high densities was something new to be sure. Along with the sky-piecing mountains all around, the scenery gives him in for a new experience in nature.

“On me,” Snowfall commands as she begins her trek towards the wooden walls.

Crimson is quick to move and march by her side at the front. Bulletpoint makes haste to walk alongside Crimson and Snowfall, glancing up at the man to give him a confident smile. Crimson returns it, noting an air of adoration in his gaze.

The entire balloon ride was filled with only esteemed words for him for his gracious action yesterday. Snowfall, Strix, Swirl, and especially Bulletpoint, all had something considerate to say to him during the long ride. It nearly felt as if they had coordinated it beforehand...

"Paperwork be damned, you've more than earned a place in our book. Don't need a signature to prove your worth as a soldier," Snowfall said.

"None otha' betta' then our lad 'ea! Nothin'na fear with him around!" Bulletpoint revered.

"You are a great boon to us, accomplishing more in less time than any other recruit I've met. I am doubtless for my trust in you," Swirl declared.

"Just you wait, dude! I'll throw you the biggest appreciation party you'll ever have!" Strix squeed.

... and while grateful for the Elite's respect, he wasn't sure how to respond to it. The closeness that he felt to those around was giving an inexplicable sense of peace and humility, leaving him only able to nod with his hands in his pockets and say, "Appreciate it, y'all."

The only character refraining from showing any recognition was Banter, who kept his attention avoided from everyone. It didn't surprise Crimson, and he certainly didn't let it bother him.

Now approaching the towering wooden walls, they come across an equally large gate. The team exchanges a few glances, mentally acknowledging their simple plan: Snowfall does the talking, Crimson will be playing it safe this time, and the rest will keep their eyes peeled. The man himself was not too keen on the plan, and he would try to avoid confrontation if possible, but he knows that nothing is certain.

Snowfall lifts her hoof to bash on the gate with some force, her silver hoof slipper making the sound that much more intense. Then they wait in silence.

And wait.

Snowfall moves to knock again, then, a croaking mechanism is heard on the other side. She lowers her hoof back down when the heavy wooden gate begins to tremble and creak open inwards.

There, standing on the inside of the premises, is a large herd of yaks. If their eyes weren’t hidden under tuft and pelt, they would probably appear angry. Pissed even. Crimson stares at them lazily.

A yak, larger and more decorated than the others, comes to the front of the herd. He sizes up each individual that stands at the front of his kingdom with shadowed eyes of disapproval. "What ponies doing in Yakyakistan!?" he belts aggressively.

“Greetings. I am Captain Snowfall of the—”

“Captain!? Captain of ponies come here!? Ponies come to DECLARE WAR!?" he stomps his hoof into the snow.

“What? No, listen, we—”

"WAR IS DECLARED!"

He and a herd of his yaks commence their charge towards the squad, shouting violently as they storm forward. Crimson quickly steps forward and raises his left arm up--

-- But before confrontation truly arrives, the squad is encased in a pink bubble shield cast by Swirl. The leader of the yaks slams his horns into the shield, bouncing right off of it and onto his rear. The other yaks stop in their tracks when their leader is trumped.

“Waaait, waitwaitwait!” Snowfall groans angrily, “We’re not here to declare war.”

“… Ponies not here to declare war?” the lead yak says as he rises from the snow. “Then why ponies here!?”

“We’re here to negotiate with you.”

"Negotiate what!?"

“A relic in your possession. A magical belt was reportedly found in your kingdom’s territory.”

“Mm. Yes, strong belt.”

“So now that that's out of the way, let's start this over. Without war. I am Captain Snowfall of the Equestrian Royal Guard. And you are?”

Before the question can be answered, attention is drawn to a smaller yak presenting herself next to the leader. She whispers to the lead yak, then points to Crimson... then they both nod. “Hm. I am Prince Binyor. Ponies may enter.” Him and his large family clear from the entrance, allowing the squad to enter the premises. After they do, a yak manning a heavy primitive pulley system behind them closes the large wooden gate and slam it shut.

Prince Binyor leads them through their village, consisting of rather primal and shoddily built homes, yet the yaks themselves are wearing golden, silver, copper, and iron accessories. Crimson does not quite fathom the idea that these yaks prioritize resources for aesthetics over quality of life, especially since this place is depressing to look at. It could easily be mended if they used their minerals more efficiently.

After a few-minute walk, the squad is led to the very center of Yakyakistan. There, next to a large circular water well in the center of the village, stands a wood and iron placard. The belt is mounted proudly on it, and this relic in question is robust, made of all sorts of refined ores. It looks as if it were emitting waves of heat.

"Well, there it is," Banter grumbles to himself with annoyance.

"It's design is intricate, even when viewed from this distance," Swirl comments quietly.

"Where was this artifact found, prince Binyor?" Snowfall inquires.

“Yes, the strong belt,” Binyor begins. “... Yak remembers. Many years ago, before great war, belt belonged to very big and powerful earth pony. Pony almost as strong as yak! ... Almost. Pony wandered Equestria for many years. Pony was big hero. He help many with his strength! Yaks knew pony, and yaks respected pony. But one day, pony disappear while traveling through Frozen North. Young Binyor was exploring North with brothers to find food. Young Binyor found letter in leather pouch inside mountain ice cave. Very wise and intuitive Binyor knew how to read pony words, was crucial for winning great war. But! Letter had instructions for finding belt! So Binyor followed meticulously crafted instructions. Journey was hard! Merciless! Tested ALL of Binyor's might! But at last, Young Binyor found belt! And he returned to Yakyakistan with great honor.”

“Hm. A lost possession once held by a pony of virtue. Interesting. Do you remember their name?"

"Yak does not."

Swirl appears the most upset to hear this. Snowfall nods in understanding to the prince and continues, "We are willing to negotiate a very large sum of resources or bits for this belt. If you choose bits, we can set up a payment plan, we already have a starting sum ready in our—”

"Yaks not want petty money! Yak want to see if pony WORTHY of strong belt! If ponies want strong belt, ponies EARN strong belt! None so far have earned the right of strong belt! Not griffons! Not dragons! Not changelings! Not PONIES!"

"Then advise us in how we should 'earn' the belt."

"HRH! TRIAL! Strongest member to represent team! But..." he huffs through his nose, "all of you! You, you, you, you, and you!” he points his cloven hooves at each pony in the Elite. "WEAK! All of you! Only flying ponies and magic pony! No earth pony! Earth pony at least stand chance! But since no earth pony here, yak wants human for trial!"

Crimson stands there simply staring back at the rioting prince. Everyone on the team turns for incredulity, already souring at the idea of him having to be the center of mass again.

"Ghr," Banter mutters with offense to his ego at being pointed at as 'weak.'

"What kind of trials we talkin'?" the man asks casually.

The eyes of the entire yak village pop from behind their scruffy hairs. The prince and his yaks let their mouths hang open. “… Human talk?”

“Human more than talk," Crimson smiles. "Human strong too."

"Hoh!" Binyor grins madly. "Yak LIKE!"

"What type of trials?" Snowfall repeats.

"Trial of STRENGTH! TRIAL OF HEART! TRIAL TO PROVE WORTH FOR STRONG BELT!"

"Physical tasks, then." Snowfall shakes her head, "I cannot allow that specific team member to participate. I request that you choose another."

"NO!" he blurts into Snowfall's face, tilting her helmet back. She glares at him and adjusts it back into place. "Rest of ponies too WEAK for trial! No earth pony here! Only talking human! Talking human have yet to test strength!"

"Can't be serious, mate!" Bulletpoint interjects, "We've got this! Ain't gotta put 'em through the squeeze! We here are plenty strong!"

"NO!" he rattles his ears just as he did to Snowfall.

"But there has to be a trial that we can do--"

"NO!" he nearly knocks Strix off of her hooves.

"Then perhaps--"

Swirl quickly encases her ears in magic just as Binyor zooms into her for her own personal "NO!" She sighs and doesn't even bother finishing.

"TALKING HUMAN TRIAL, OR NO TRIAL!"

Everyone gawks at the rambunctious prince with resentment, all but Crimson, who stands with his hands in his duster pockets. "I'll do yer trials."

His team turns their bitter gazes towards him, prompting him to glance between them.

"No way, mate," Bulletpoint shakes his head.

"I can't let you do this," Snowfall firmly follows up.

"We need that belt," Crimson retorts. "If I got a shot at gettin' it, I ain't turnin' it down."

"We already established that you won't be at the horns of this one."

"Who said these trials are gonna hurt? Right, Binyor?" he smiles to the yak.

"IT WILL HURT MANY HURTS! HAHA!"

Crimson lines his lips and raises his brows.

"You're not doing this," Snowfall declares. "Decision is final."

Crimson gazes at her for a silent moment... "Good thing I ain't gotta listen, then." He returns his stare to the prince. "What's this first trial?"

"Mother of Celestia, Crimson..." Snowfall bats the forehead of her helmet in frustration. Everyone on the team is visibly dissatisfied as well, except for the listless Banter.

“Smash things!" Binyor shouts. "Smash things is first trial!"

"Sounds easy enough."

"Crimson," Snowfall mutters through her teeth.

The man returns his attention to her, delivering a radiant smile. His eyes then trek across the rest of his team, holding his confident front against their scrutiny. "I know what we agreed to, but I can't let this belt go without even tryin'. There's somethin' ridin' on this more important than my safety: Equestria's safety. So I'm doin' this... fer y'all."

Everyone turns their faces to the snow and say nothing further. Undeniably apparent, his team is not approving, but their silence speaks for them: they won't stop him... but they will be harshly judging this turn of events.

Returning his gaze to the prince, Crimson nods. "Let's get'er done."

"Hah! Human has spirit! Yes, trials start now!”

‎

~~~<

‎

The quiet and serious squad is reluctantly led by the prince towards the farther end of the village. There are many leafless trees around, standing tall and proud amongst the snow. The prince scopes around for a moment and finds a good tree as a candidate for the first trial. Once he finds one, he stands next to it, facing back to the squad.

“Human good at smashing!? Prove it! Smash tree!” he says, bashing his hoof on the bark. The whole tree rattles from the force of his hearty smack.

Crimson raises his brows at this uncanny task. He walks up to the tree, each step sinking into the snow. His squad eyes him with silent intent, but the yaks look much less excited. The denizens of Yakyakistan all judge his every move, finding nothing of worthy note on his appearance.

He reaches out and touches the bark, it’s hard and rough. Sediment and grains of the bark fall from the trunk at his touch. The base of the tree is just over thirty inches in diameter. A fairly sized tree, but garnering age and early feebleness. “Do I get to use some tools ‘r somethin’?” he asks, looking to his left at the prince.

"PFFFHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The prince and a few of his fellow yaks burst into laughter. "..." They suddenly stop laughing and look very serious. “No! Human use human claws to smash!”

“My hands?”

“Yak not care for proper terminology! SMASH NOW!”

"... Can I make my own tools?"

"CLAWS. TO. SMAAASH!"

Crimson sighs and faces the tree. His plan to use his greatsword to simply hack the tree into pieces is probably going to forfeit him this trial, so back to basics it is. He cracks his neck and his knuckles, then rotates his shoulders after. He brings up his guard and steps into a firm stance, holding his fists in front of his face as he eyes the tree. He scopes out a specific point on the tree’s trunk, registering it mentally as his target. “... Y’all might wanna get back a bit."

His squad immediately heeds to his word, still aggravated. The yaks simply stay in place and watch, caring not for the human's forewarning.

He cocks his right arm back... and with a grunt of exertion, he steps into a mighty right elbow, crashing it into the spot he was looking. Luckily the elbow guards of his armor saved his duster from being torn by the strike.

The point of impact breaks into a jagged mess, causing the entire tree to fall into two chunks. The top of the tree tilts towards the crowd of yaks that refused to move. They gawk up and gasp as the mass of wood falls down upon them. Screaming in terror, they quickly scatter and trip over each other.

The prince remains standing still as the large chunk of tree topples his way. He ducks his head and brings it back up with a loud grunt. His horns and helmet collide against the chunk that lands on him, smashing it into two more halves, then he releases an adrenaline-fueled shout. “HEER-YEAHAHA! Human make yak VERY impressed!”

"HooWaaoo! Human strong!" A random yak blurts.

"HUMAN STRONGER THAN TREE!" another shouts.

"Hah! Me like human!"

"HUMAAAN! HAHAHAAA!"

Crimson nods at the raising collection of adore and compliments from the yaks. He quickly glances at his squad, noting their silent pride mixed with concern and hesitation.

First trial down successfully.

“But!" Binyor grins, "yak now sees that this was TOO easy for human! Human need bigger! Human need better! Hahaa, yak give another trial!”

The Elite team blench their fronts at another task to be undertaken, admittedly more difficult. Crimson shows no negative reaction, instead nodding again. "Alright. Another."

Binyor guides the way again, moving through this small patch of wintered forestry toward another tree. The biggest tree in the field. This particular growth is almost three stories tall, the girth of the trunk reaches an entire square meter in diameter. “Hrhr, yees. Now human must smash THIS!” he calls with a grin. "The GRAND trunk! No yak can topple tree! Binyor could, but Binyor not selfish! Binyor let OTHERS test strength! Haha!"

"How fucking convenient," Banter utters under his breath.

"This's insane," Bulletpoint whispers as well.

Crimson moves to stand before the well-grown tree. He looks over to his squad mates, seeing their terribly dissatisfied expressions. Were it not for his calm and collected demeanor, he is certain his team would have tried to intervene at this point. He knows that most beings his size would probably break every bone in their body before getting a dent on a tree of this size... lucky for him, he is not most people.

He returns his attention to the tree. He starts to size it up, eyes running along the length of this large living object. He knows one firm strike won't topple this beast, he will definitely cause himself some harm if he tried. He will have to whittle it down before he can throw a strike with good power behind it.

He raises his guard up and takes his stance again, focusing his eyes on a certain point of the trunk. He inhales deeply...

BAM!

He throws a lightning fast left jab at the trunk. There’s a clean imprint an inch deep of his knuckles on the bark. This jets a reaction of awe from the yaks, all in disbelief at the prowess showed. A wry shifting of his eyes to his team also shows that they are equally ridden with stupor.

"B-But... he was, like... so soft when I touched him," Strix expresses. "... Is human skin really that strong?”

“… No. It isn't,” Snowfall mumbles in distaste, glaring at the imprint on the bark.

BAM!

The man follows his left jab with a right straight into the bark, leaving another imprint with his fist that is deeper before. The two imprints clip into each other at the very seam of the knuckles, not even a centimeter apart. He looks at his fists, seeing that they're not damaged just yet. “... Y’all get clear now,” he warns, glaring at the imprint he left.

Everyone does well to listen this time. Crimson takes in another breath, longer and slower than the one before. Then,

PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA-PA!

He enters a flurry of wind cutting strikes, using both fists to barrage at the trunk, each punch rocking the tree wildly. The attacks come so fast, it looks like bullets are ripping at the tree. Each punch is so strong, the wind force coming from them blows the snow under him away in a circular radius. The bark of the tree starts to chip away faster than any chainsaw could achieve.

Like a beaver with titanium teeth on performance enhancers gnawing uncontrollably, shards of wooden pieces splinter, scatter, and fly in every direction.

"What... the fuck..." Banter's irises tremble in their sockets.

After the unremitting barrage, Crimson pulls back from his punches, stepping forward with his left foot, pivoting on it, and turning his hip to deliver a righteous right roundhouse kick. “MRH!” Like a smoldering hammer through butter, his shin-guard covered leg bashes right through effortlessly, letting him continue the motion of the kick and perfectly reset into his stance.

The battered tree breaks like clockwork, even flying off of the stump a few feet from the force of the kick. It immediately tilts to the side and crashes down a few feet in front of him. The snow muffles most of the impact of the fall, but a mass this size shakes the earth on collision with the ground. The tall tree now lies defeated, leaving only four feet of trunk protruding from the ground.

The panting man backpedals until he stands in front of his team, saying nothing. The yaks are utterly befuddled.

"HAAAAA! HAHAHAHAAAAA!" Binyor suddenly shouts with vigor, leaping in to smash the befallen tree further. The rest of the yaks are plastered with smiles of their own, following suit in shouting and smashing.

"Human incredible!" a yak gasps.

"HUMAN STROONG!" another cries.

"HAHA! YAK LOVE HUMAN! HUMAN IS LIKE YAK!"

"HUUMAN! HUUMAN!"

Those not destroying the tree begin to stomp their hooves into the snow, pounding it with heartfelt ceremony. Crimson can not help but grin with satisfaction at the townsfolk coming to appreciate him. His spirit strangely resonates a saying he has never heard before in his head, but feels it to be true: 'If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart.' These yaks certainly love the language of strength and power, and he spoke it fluently.

His hazel eyes follow a smaller yak that he notes is running towards him, the same one that pointed at him earlier. She looks very young, and judging by the adorable braids in her hair, it's definitely a girl. Winded out from having joined in the on-going smashing, she pants as she speaks to him. "Human! Human so strong! Konya knew she liked the look of human!"

The man reaches to fluff the top of her head, though upon catching sight of his own hand, he stops himself and chuckles wryly. "Heh. Human happy yak think so."

"Human stronger than yak! Konya want to grow up big and strong like human! -- Oh!" she halts guiltily. "... Uuh... h-human no let papi Binyor know Konya say that."

"Human keep secret safe~" He reaches to pat her head again, though carefully as not to stain her fur. She squeals with joy - her deep-brown orbs gaze up at him with a glint of idolization.

"Konya's name is Konya! What human's name?"

"Crimson. Pleasure to meet you, Konya."

"Konya will remember this day! Konya will--!" She stops again, hearing her name is called by another younger yak in the smash-pile. She appears to lose track of what she was saying, now heeding to the call and returns to batter the befallen tree some more.

Crimson watches Konya join her kin with a warm simper. His attention is soon diverted when he feels the pressing of many eyes. His smile drops and he faces the onlookers.

Some of the yaks were watching his interaction with the little one. Even with pelt-covered eyes, their small smiles are sign enough to let him know that they are content.

Snowfall silently watched Crimson's interaction with one of the locals. When he reached his hand to the little yak's head, she glared at their brutal state. Her body shivers at noticing his knuckles. They are completely shredded.

Once the young yak frolics off and he returns his hands to his sides, blood drips down from his finger tips and onto the snow. Were it not for the battered meat of his skin, his bones would probably be exposed. She grits her teeth and lifts her gaze up to the back of his head.

Swirl, Strix, and Banter's jaw has fallen onto the ground as they stare at the broken mass of wood in complete disbelief. Bulletpoint is quick to catch on to Banter's unsullied abstraction, taking it as a prime moment to remind him of something important.

“Bloody A, mate..." Bulletpoint leans closer to him. “You'd be grateful seein’ this. Good ol’ Red didn’t decide to give one of them swings durin’ that spar.”

Banter snaps out of his trance immediately and stares two suns into Bulletpoint. He then retracts and huffs out his breath into the cold air. "Oh, fuck off."

Snowfall approaches Crimson from behind, jumping onto her hindlegs and turning him so he faces her. She pulls him down a bit so their heads are leveled. "That's enough," she quietly demands of him.

“What?” Crimson whispers back.

“Your hands. Look at them. You weren't supposed to be doing this today, and here you are.”

“They’re fine, Snowfall.”

Like a fire igniting in her heart, she lines her brows at the top of her eyes and presses her muzzle against his nose. “Damn it, Crimson, they're not fine! YOU look at them and tell ME they’re fine!”

Crimson's neutral face shifts for concern... not for himself, but for Snowfall's genuine anger. She seems to be showing quite a bit of emotion today, first with her smile, and now... this.

He carefully takes Snowfall's hooves off of him, letting her fall back onto her fours. He pulls out what appears to be a chocolate granola bar from his outer left duster pocket. He takes it into his bleeding hands and unwraps it. He proceeds to stuff it into his mouth with three quick bites, chewing on it a few times before swallowing and pocketing the wrapper. He uses his duster to wipe off the blood that coats his hands.

Snowfall and the rest of the squad watch this, tracing him up and down in confusion to his random snackage. Her eyes stop at his hands once he wipes them. The bleeding seems to have stopped already, but the skin and tissue is still mangled.

"They're fine," Crimson repeats.

Snowfall slowly shakes her head, clearly displeased, but unwilling to argue with him further.

“Human!” Binyor shouts to Crimson. “Binyor IMPRESSED with human! This is great show! Very great strong show! Human has proved to be like yak!”

“Great to hear it,” the man responds.

“He did your trials," Snowfall says as she glares at the yak prince. "And by your warrant, he has earned the belt.”

“Yes! BUT!” replies the prince. The squad’s faces bend in bitter aggression, though Crimson finds some excitement from hearing that there is more to be had. “There is ONE last trial!"

Snowfall freezes, pupils shrinking to grains of sand.

"Whaat!?" Strix cries.

"That is blatantly unfair!" Swirl shouts.

"ONE. LAST. TRIAL," Binyor dramatically states through winded pauses.

“You’ve gotta be shittin' me,” Bulletpoint growls.

“No shitting! Only trial! Come! Follow yak!”

"Nu-no-no-no-no," Snowfall halts him. "We are not going any further until you elaborate on this final trial."

"HRH?" Binyor turns to her angrily.

"The next task," she sternly repeats. "What are you forcing him to do."

"HRR! ANNOYING WEAK PONY! YAK NOT SAY UNTIL TRIAL BEGINS!"

"C'mon, Snowfall. It's the last trial," Crimson coaxes. "Whatever it is, I'll get it done 'n we go home with our objective. ... Just one more." His entire team hesitates to agree with him. "... Lead the way, Binyor."

"Hrh, ponies learn a thing or two from human."

‎

~~~<

‎

Crimson stands in the middle of the snowy village with his squad close by. In front of him, a good number of meters out, is the yaks along with Binyor. The yak prince stands close to the belt on the placard.

A quick inspection of his team shows that they have just about had it with Binyor, but at least they have done well with suppressing their resentment. As long as they keep their cool, Crimson assumes this should go swimmingly.

Binyor raises his voice as he begins giving direction, pointing his hoof at the belt next to him.

“YAK NOW GIVE LAST TRIAL TO SHOW WORTHY OF THIS BELT! Human is good at smashing, yes! NOW! ... Human demonstrate ability to BE SMASHED! YAKS WILL TAKE TURNS CHARGING HUMAN! HUMAN STAND LIKE TREE STANDS! TAKE THE SMASH! TOUGH TREE NOT FALL! WEAK TREE?" He snarls a breath out of his nose. "... FALL.”

Contempt overrides the emotions of every member of the Elite at the revelation of this excursion. Finally boiled over with frustration, Snowfall steps next to Crimson - the armor of her hip touching his leg. She shouts back at Binyor, “That is a firm negative! A violent engagement with an Equestrian Royal Guard will not be tolerated!"

Binyor's front widens for surprise at her outburst, but quickly furrows for exasperation.

"Prince Binyor, you can't seriously expect us to allow you to stampede one of our own! I highly advise you rethink your strategy, because this is treading a line you DO NOT want to cross!”

"Snowfall, it's fine--"

"We're here for negotiations!" she interrupts Crimson, "and this is no negotiation! This is underhoofed encroachment! Our intentions are peaceful, and we will keep them as so! But we will not further entertain these games of yours, and further pressing of them will be taken as an act of aggression!"

"Snowfall, seriously, we're almost there--"

Crimson is interrupted again when Binyor barks a harking laugh, "HAH! PUNY WEAK PONY! YAK KNEW YOU WERE WEAK! YAK KNEW YOU WERE NOT WORTHY!"

"The terms of the negotiation stand firm!" Snowfall states. "We will establish an agreement that can satisfy you, but we are not leaving until the belt is in our possession! The acquisition of this belt is necessary to ensure the safety of Equestria and its inhabitants! We cannot allow it to remain here!"

"EXCUSE FROM PONY! MOVE AND LET HUMAN FINISH TRIAL!"

"It is no excuse!" Swirl intervenes. "There is a threat present to all of us! Not just ponykind! An anomalous magic source is wreaking havoc on the land, and it is currently undefined! We believe it is attached to the magic contained in the relic in your possession! It must be studied! This information is essential to our survival!"

"SMART PONY TALK TOO MUCH! SMART PONY NOT STRONG PONY!"

"You are not listening!" Swirl stomps her hoof into the snow.

"YAK NOT CARE! ALL YAK HEAR IS WHINY, PUNY EXCUSE! NO! NO BELT FOR THE WEAK! ONLY STRONG CAN TAKE BELT! TRIAL TO PROVE STRENGTH!"

"HE ALREADY FUCKING DID!" Bulletpoint screams. "TWO WHOLE TREES, MATE! HE ALREADY DID THA' STUPID FUCKING TRIAL, THEN YOU GO 'N SPRING ANOTHA' ONE!"

"TRIAL IS PROOF!"

"YOA TRIALS CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF!"

Crimson's temper begins to rise, leading him to ball his hands into fists. "If y'all'd just fuckin' listen--"

"HRRRAAAAGH!" Binyor belts furiously. "PUNY WEAK PONY TALK TO PRINCE BINYOR THAT WAY!?"

"YE! YOU'RE INSANE, YA' WANKA!"

"That belt must be acquired and studied for the safety of Equestria, Prince Binyor!" Snowfall declares. "This is non-negotiable!"

"HRRRH!" Binyor kicks snow back with his foreleg.

"THAT MEANS WE'RE NOT LEAVING TILL WE GET IT, ASSHOLE!" Banter bursts suddenly, holding his partisan closely with a grin.

"GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Crimson's eyes grow wide at the restless fury building in the yak prince. Being ignored by everyone, he quickly takes in his surroundings, trying to find literally anything that could mend the situation. He glances at his team, seeing them huddle close to each other to form a barrier at his sides. He glances towards the yak-kin, seeing the expressions on the lot.

His own critical expression softens for muse and confusion.

Odd. Their faces. He studies them, noting that they are not aggressive-looking or hostile. The opposite is true. They appear tentative and worried. Many of them stare at their leader with uncertainty, but none of them speak up against him... except for one.

"Konya..." Crimson whispers.

"Papi! Be calm, papi!" she pleads as she emerges from the crowd of yaks to Binyor's side.

The scalded prince turns his smoldering gaze to his daughter, piercing her with grit teeth. "STAY OUT, KONYA! PONY HEADS WILL BE SMASHED FOR THEIR DISRESPECT!"

"Hahaha! SMASHED!?" Banter laughs maniacally. "Give it all you got, prince Shit-Coat! Try smashing some soap and water next time!"

"Hrr!" Crimson grinds his teeth in anger at the stallion's provocation.

"Remain calm, Prince Binyor!" Snowfall restates. "This is not how you want this to end!"

"NOT WANT THIS TO END? PONIES NOW THREATENING BINYOR! HRAAGH!"

"More than a threat, Nose-Ring! A fucking promise!" Banter riles. "Come on! Attack us! Let's see how great your strength holds up!"

"Banter!" Every member of the elite scolds him, though knowingly in vain.

"HRRH... HROORH.... HAAAA! PONIES WANT WAAAR!?"

In less than a second...

"TEAM! DEFENSIVE POSITION!"

"WAR! IS! DECLAAAARED!"

"BACK! BACK IT UP--!"

CrRRACK--BOOOM!

... a magically supercharged mass of fury collides horns-first into Crimson's golden shield, effortlessly breaking through it and decimating him.

In one instant to the next, Binyor had acquired the belt from its pedestal, flipping it around his waist before cracking the ground with a leaping charge. The belt itself, when held close to his waist, moved itself akin to a magnet to instantly strap itself on.

In a blink, several hundred pounds of air-ripping animal charged towards the Elite squad, covering the fifty-meter gap in the blink of an eye... only to be intercepted by the angel that charged forward to meet him half-way.

Crimson's left arm, which held his defeated shield, breaks at the forearm and upper arm, along with the bracer attached, and it flings back into his chest. The force continues, traveling across his entire body to obliterate his breastplate and shoulder guards, all happening in a single moment.

FWOOM!

The limp man is propelled back with unfathomable force, flung right past his team as a meat and armor-shard projectile, skipping across hundreds of feet along the snow like a worn-out ragdoll until he crashes into the wooden wall of the village's perimeter.

Motionless, he lies several feet deep in the snow. His hazel eyes flicker golden several times until they remain glowing. He lazily stares up at the white-clouded sky above him.

He can't hear anything, his ears are ringing incessantly. He is certain too many things inside him are broken to be fixed by simply him. He can't feel a thing, other than how his breathing comes out as a wheeze through his windpipe.

It sure is familiar, he thinks, not being able to feel anything. An example being when he first arrived to Equestria, when he wandered aimlessly onto a trapped door that flung a death tack at him. That dart made him feel kind of like he's feeling right now - empty, lazy, and hard of thought...

... though now, there is no swift savior to suck out the venom for this one though.

Swift savior. "What... was her name again?"

He'll probably remember soon, he concludes. Or maybe he will not. Maybe it will fade into obscurity among the coils of departure.

He hadn't realized until now he had closed his eyes at some point, but here they are... closed. Without sight, his world becomes nothing but himself as a hollow vessel of empty breathing. All he can do is lay here and do nothing until... something happens.

The only thing on his mind right now is a supplication, one that hopes the Elite isn't currently fighting an entire village of yaks. Not that he doubts in their ability, but prince Binyor with that belt was certainly something to behold. They very thought of that charge harrows him.

His team were like deer in headlights. He didn't know what to expect colliding into him, but it was the only decision he could make that made sense to him. He feels like he made the right decision. ... Maybe.

Regrets are pointless now. There is nothing he can do except wait in his bed of red snow. Or sleep in it. It is a bed, after all.

...

"... Sleep sounds like a good idea."

Act 7: In the Air of the Night

~ ???, ??? ~<

‎

A whirlpool in the ears, a dance of red color behind closed eyelids.

A cry of distress, voice ridden with anguish and hopelessness. "I can't--! I can't take this anymore!" Her broken spirit wails.

Another voice attempts to calm her, but it warrants no comfort.

Her cries worsen, becoming frantic, muddled with gasps and sobs. "I can't take this, I can't take this... I can't... I can't... I can't breathe... I can't breathe..."

A repeated clamor turned mantra. Many voices from others around chime in ruthlessly, a conglomerate of dismay. Her voice becomes distant, falling far into the void of nothing...

... until she can no longer be heard. All of the voices, all of the talking, gone. Silence again.

...

He returns to slumber.

‎ ‎

‎

‎

~ ???, ??? ~<

‎

...

A voice again. More than one - a few. Their vibrations familiar. Comforting voices.

SEARING PAIN. Ceaseless agony, enough to paralyze.

His body is immobile, the connection to his physicality severed. His conscious, threadbare, is all he has. The voices he hears are muffled and incoherent, but audible.

Oh how he wishes to call for their names... alas, he cannot. He remains still, weathering the sweltering soreness that eclipses his flesh.

...

He eventually returns to slumber.

‎

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Infirmary ~<
February 21st, Sunday, 22:21

‎

"Grck! Hehk!"

Crimson's body writhes. Sensations previously nulled return, all flooding his nerves to remind him of what he suffered. First to arise is the aching of his injuries, the initial seconds of feeling again becoming torture. But he works through it, lets it simmer and soil... soon, it becomes bearable.

Second to return is his hearing. Like a body of water draining from his head, audio becomes clear again. He hears no voices like before. Nothing at all, really. Quietness surrounds his environment, only his paced breathing to be heard.

He listens to the rhythm of his inhalation, becoming aware of it and controlling it wittingly. No blockage or crookedness. A perfectly healthy airway. Nothing important to be wafted by his reattained olfactory, save for a faint scent of sterilizer too distant to be of note.

Now to open his eyes and truly return to the waking world. The first attempt to separate his eyelids ends in nothing but a faint twitch. Movement is yet to fully return, but every passing second works in his favor.

Again he tries, trembling the blinds of his vision so they meagerly pry apart. They instantly come closed again, heavy like steel garage doors manually lifted.

Once more.

Finally, they come apart to expose a blur of shadowed colors, slowly washing apart as his vision sharpens. He stares at the ceiling above him, one that belongs to the Canterlot Castle infirmary. Their pastel-white coloration is dimmed a blue hue from the shine of the moonlight piercing through the window of his room.

He notes that the curtains of his bed are pulled back, leaving him unobstructed viewing of his surroundings. As motion restores, he first turns his neck to the right towards the window, gazing out into the starlit skies. As if the moon watches him, it presents itself perfectly in view of the top-left panel, its radiance alluring and oddly comforting.

After a moment undisturbed, he shifts his attention to his left. Another patient bed is at his side, empty and promptly made. Past it is the door to his room donned with blinds to cover the window.

... But just a bit further to his left, rested on his nightstand, is an object peculiar to the rest of the room. A rolled scroll tied with a white ribbon and sealed with a gold token. He figures himself capable of sitting up to reach it, so with a grunt and the wrinkling of his nose, he moves to do so.

Failure. He is constricted by something.

A full-body cast. Thick white bandages envelop him from the chest down, leaving the flexing-in of his abdomen unable. Was this cast really necessary, he asks himself. He feels well enough to not need it. Perhaps the damage he endured was not as devastating as he initially thought, but that is only wishful thinking. The pain waking up was excruciating.

A quick twiddling of his fingers inside the casts of his arms, a fiddling of his toes the same way, a slight rotation of the shoulders under the hard bandages... he feels okay. Nothing appears to be broken anymore, if it ever was, and the soreness is manageable. Maybe it is time he freed himself of his restraints.

He inhales to prepare. Then, in a quick flinch action, he sits up with enough force to crack and tear at his body cast around the abdomen, allowing him to sit up. Success. Easier than anticipated. He moves to lift the light blue blankets that cover him, pushing them forward to reveal his body. All covered in cast.

He commences to bash the blunt club that is his arm cast against his other arm, banging them together several times before his right cast breaks open and frees his hand. With his fist, he punches open the left arm cast effortlessly, freeing his other hand. He does quick work to remove the rest of the hardened bandage from the rest of his body, tossing the pieces to the left on the ground.

A quick inspection of his naked self reveals a multitude of deep-tissue scars in the process of healing. The worst of it is found on his left arm, the one that held the shield. Two scars, both consisting of a double scar formed in shape of a cross, are planted on the outer sides of his bicep and forearm. Bones were definitely broken, though healed already.

His gaze softens at his scars, internally grateful of the faceless collective that kept him alive long enough for his Arch to restore him.

Without further ado, he returns his attention to the scroll on the nightstand. With pursed lips and a grunt, he reaches over to it, taking it in-hand and pulling it in. He plucks the golden token off and unravels the white ribbon, pushing the scroll open with the back of his fingers.

It is written in Ponish...

... but it seems that whoever wrote the letter was aware of this discrepancy as the text is glowing a soft-yellow hue. While nothing overtly calls for this action, he feels the need to touch the words. Doing so proves to be fruitful, as now the scroll murmurs language into his ear with the rhyme of Celestia's voice.

"My beloved angel,

This phonetic letter was written for your awakening. Many hearts plead for your recovery, including mine. Your condition was unimaginable, but it was no task too trying for our medical staff to stabilize you. Primarily, give your gratitude to Scribe Swirl, who tirelessly taxed her magical limits to ensure your survival.

As of writing this, you are comatose and the doctors are uncertain when you will come to. In faith that you awake, this letter is to inform you of several changes in your directive. Or lack thereof.

Firstly, you now have your own personal account in the Canterlot Treasury. It can be found on the lobby floor of the Castle, left-most of the receptionist. Any questions you may have regarding use of the Treasury can be answered by the teller.

Secondly, you are relieved of your requirements to the Guard. Furthermore, you are no longer allowed to participate in their endeavors. With no contempt implied, further affiliation with official duties is hereby forbidden, and punishment will be enacted according to any offenses."

Crimson furrows his brows and sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Despite this, payment of your duty has been grandfathered and will be awarded on its regular schedule until further notice. This is my gift to you, my angel, my appreciation for the selflessness you demonstrate.

Thirdly, your residence in the Castle has been changed. You will now reside in the Castle dormitory. At the passionate request of your former affiliates in the Elite, you are to be roomed next to Scribe Swirl. Mind for thought, this would prove to be an excellent opportunity for you to thank her for her care."

With a sigh, Crimson sits back into the headrest and softens his expression.

"And lastly, you are no longer allowed to communicate with Moonlight Wish."

"Hnh!?" Crimson jets back up, eyes peeling wide as he traces the glowing words that are read to him.

"A unanimous decision between her and I. You may no longer visit her. As I write this letter, she is currently bedridden due to a fever, a fever caused by stress. I stated at the beginning of this letter that your condition was unimaginable. It truly was. Our doctors could hardly fathom the beating of your heart. After your courageous act to protect your team, you were rushed to Canterlot. Further questions regarding this matter can be answered by your previously affiliated team.

In light of your arrival, word quickly spread amongst the Guard and the Consortium. Moonlight was one of the first to be informed, and the first to visit you in the infirmary. At the hearing of your incapacitated state, she became pale. Upon witnessing your disfigured self, she nearly fainted due to stress-induced arrhythmia.

My angel, it is for the best that you cease contact with Moonlight. At least for a while."

Crimson's trembling fingers grip the scroll tensely, his moistening fingertips crumple the edges of the parchment.

"I hope that you respect these decisions. Any changes will be forwarded to you immediately. Your citizenship of Equestria holds true, and you are free now to do as you please. If you desire, you can move from Canterlot and live elsewhere, but you are more than welcome to remain here.

I have faith that whatever you continue to pursue, it will be just as accomplishing as what you have done thus far. You have the esteem of us all, my angel. Until we meet again.

Celestia."

...

"... This can't be fuckin' right..." he mutters as he gawks at the letters, witnessing their magical glow dim away. "... A jape 'r somethin'. Moonlight, she--" He halts briefly and ponders. His eyes lift up from the scroll to stare at the wall far in front of him, mentally painting the image that rips him apart. "... She had a heart attack." An all-consuming black void forms in the pits of his stomach. His innards digest themselves as he keeps rattling the concept in his head. "... I gave her a heart attack." He swallows the dry nothing in his mouth, letting his gaze fall back down to the letter.

His fingers clench, nearly ripping the scroll in half.

"I gotta get up. Gotta move," he rumbles to himself. "Sittin' here any longer..."

Taking the letter into his left fist, he extends his arm out and carelessly drops the letter back onto the nightstand. He kicks his legs up and off the side of the bed, ignoring the aching soreness in his body through his wavering mental state. He plants his feet on the pieces of cast he tossed to the ground, crunching them as he stands up. He nearly loses balance from the shockwave of pain that travels through his freshly-used muscles. He grits his teeth and exhales through them, tweaking his body a twitch at a time until he stands up-right.

He takes one step towards the foot-end of his bed, then another, and another. He spots a footlocker against the end of the bed, assuming it to be his duster coat and apparel. He staggers towards it and falls with a thud onto his knees, slouching forward and opening it.

A throb of horrid emotion flows through his being at witnessing the contents of the footlocker. A red t-shirt and solid-grey pajama pants... the articles of clothing that were given to him as a gift. There is even a set of sandals he has never seen before, but they match the color of the pants perfectly.

"She... probably had them made for me."

...

He stares at the clothing for too long, sensationalizing the depressive gape within.

...

With trembling hands, he reaches for his clothes.

‎

~~~<

‎

He wanders aimlessly through the vast halls of the Castle... or so he figures he is. Every corner he turns, every section of stained-glass he passes, it leads closer to a destination he knows.

Guards that patrol the Castle during the night he actively avoids. He could not know what their reaction would be to seeing him, and he will not be bothered to find out. They might try to return him to his room in the infirmary. He cannot have that happen. Not tonight. He wants to keep moving undisturbed, unquestioned. He aims to reach his destination.

Internally he scoffs at the guards he skirts. Be it the boredom of their routine or simply the lack of perception, they are easy to elude. Even with the soft clack of his sandals, none are the wiser to his shadowed movement across the dimly lit night. Their sense of awareness is non-existent in comparison to the sharp wits of the Elite.

It draws closer. Turning one last corner, he can see the large golden doors to his right down the hall. Present at the front are two guards, neither of them Bulletpoint. He figured his comrade would not be there, his post being in the morning. But more apparent than this are the guards themselves, they debut their presence with a brand of armor he had only seen once.

The steel plates of their protection gloss with deep purple coloration, highlighted with varying shades of lavender and blue. Their coats also follow this discreet aesthetic, with one mare a dark grey and the stallion next to her jaded blue.

He scrutinizes them as he approaches. Having avoided the patrol, dealing with these two should prove no task. Not accepting any other outcome, he will enter the throne room and have a much-needed word with the goddess of the sun to, at the very least, have peace of mind.

Once they notice him, sharp eyes are dilated his way. Both guards of shade turn their attention to the oddity that approaches them amidst the night.

Quickly they realize who is nearing them, their critical fronts meld to perplexity. Both of them adjust the grip they have on their spears and anticipate the man's arrival. Once he stands at their front, hands in his pockets, the stallion speaks up first.

"Angel of Arch." After he sternly utters this, they are left in silence. Crimson realizes that the stallion is waiting for a reply, but he finds it a hassle to muster one. Enough silence occupies the space for the stallion to speak up again. "We see that you are alive, thank the skies above. Are you well?"

"... Yeah."

Both guards deliver a concise glare to the man's simple reply. "You stand before the throne of the princesses," the stallion continues. "There was no conglomerate foreseen. What business do you have with her highness?"

"There's somethin' I need'a talk to her about."

"Is it dire? The princess should not be disturbed."

"It's business involvin' the Elite Guard. My Guard."

"... I see. Though, the princess does not administer matters related to the Elite."

"Somethin' she needs to know immediately. She wrote about it to me in a letter."

"Ah. Very well then. Thank your lucky star, Angel of Arch, her highness is unoccupied this night. In any other circumstance you'd be denied entry, one must first file for a meeting before it takes place. You may proceed, though we expect you to be on your best behavior. We will be swift to act otherwise."

"Yeah."

A brief hiatus in speech and action comes from both of them, followed then by their side-step of approval. The stallion salutes firmly while the mare uses her dark purple magic to open the throne doors.

Crimson blinks once at them with mild irritation. Once the doors open, he marches forward without hesitation, stepping onto the red carpet of the throne-- ... or rather, the blue carpet.

With furrowed brows, he glances up from the deep blue textile towards the throne. Only then does he realize that the center throne of gold and cherry upholstery is vacant, and instead the cobalt seat off to the right is attended by the fabled princess of the night. In the clouds of his somber heart, he had completely forgotten about the second ruler of Equestria... and with that, completely negating his plan to confront Celestia about the letter.

It would seem that the surprise present in him also displays itself on the face of Luna. She ogles him with wide beaming orbs, those that illustrate her astonishment at his unannounced coming.

Having stopped his stride to internalize Luna's presence, he continues walking again, approaching her whilst never breaking eye-contact. She was not the princess he hoped to see, but as he finds himself here, he will not simply walk away now.

He halts again, standing with stiff posture as he stares up to her. With an exchange of silence, Crimson then comes down onto one knee, bowing down graciously.

Having not anticipated this gesture from this man, Luna's eyelids flutter to return her mind to reality. Her lips part, showing teeth clenched in uncertainty, before her mouth fully opens to speak. "Rise... Angel of Arch."

Upon hearing her youthful hymn, words spoken nearly in melody, he returns to standing. "... Nice to finally meet you, princess Luna."

"The phrase I was to speak thou have taken from my lips. To finally speak with the one talked of so frequently, in a manner as sudden as this, I lack words. Many a night in slumber, but in this hour, my presence."

"You make it sound like I've been out fer a while. Few days?"

"Nay, Angel of Arch. Thou hath been bedridden for a fortnight."

The man tenses. "Two... weeks?"

She nods once, blinking ever-so calmly as she does. "My sister will be relieved to see thyself in bloom."

Crimson fails to add to the conversation at fault of his muse.

"... Indeed, a long time to be adjourned."

"Two weeks... that's... that's way too long. Can't be right."

"The grim reality, Angel of Arch."

Crimson balls his hands into fists as his frustration builds, but soon, his self-discipline autonomously kicks in. Anger flows out of him like a ghost escaping his body. He relaxes his hands and exhales, returning his attention to Luna.

She tilts her head slightly as she gazes back at him. "For what reason does thou bestow upon me thy graces?"

"... Eeh," he sighs solemnly. "Honestly, I was hopin' to find Celestia here." Luna's expression scrunches questioningly. "'N before you say it, I know... was a ridiculous thing to think that I'd find Celestia here at this time. I'm just..." he lowers his eyes from hers, down towards her hooves, "... not quite feelin' myself right now. I wound up here 'cuz I needed'a not be where I was. Just had to move around. Walk a bit. ... I beg yer pardon fer randomly bargin' in."

Luna scans the features on his face, catching every detail even in dimness. The slowly fading scar that travels across his right cheek, the multitude of smaller aberrations that litter his tan skin. Many physical marks tell of his ventures, but what attracts Luna the most is the dark circles under his eyes. Despite being asleep for many days, he still appears exhausted. Depraved, even. The look of a man who cannot find a light which he so-desperately reaches for.

She shakes her head once, blinking again in the manner she had done before. "There is nothing to apologize for, Angel of Arch. Thy presence, while unforeseen, is not unwelcomed. There is a matter that I wish to discuss... pertaining to what thou'st said. If I could be indulged, of course."

Crimson raises a piqued brow. "Sure thing, princess. ... You mind if I step a little closer? Conversin' at this distance ain't what I'm used to."

"... By all means, Angel of Arch," she replies with a tiny hint of reluctance in her voice.

He nods with a smile to her gracious yet slightly quirky nature. He moves forward and ascends the staircase, taking two steps at a time, hauling his body up with slightly exaggerated motions until he reaches the top. He continues a few more paces towards the princess...

... and she did not anticipate this, his coming so close. She sits up in her seat and tucks her chin, staring at him move even closer, until he is only three feet away from her throne. He sits down and gets himself comfortable, sitting criss-cross with his knees at his thighs.

"Ain't gotta be so formal with me, princess Luna. Crimson is just fine."

She lines her lips at his forward-moving demeanor, visibly treading new interactive territory with another being. "... Crimson. That is your name?"

"My nickname, but can't imagine bein' called anythin' else. Ain't big on titles 'n what-not."

"I was never informed of this name, my guards and sister only refer to you as the aforementioned title or 'My angel.' I suspected this was enacted through your will, but I suppose that it is not the case." Luna notices him smirking wryly, driving her to question. "... Is something amiss?"

"Yer mannerisms changed. The fancy pronouns are gone."

"But you advocated for the levity of formality, did you not?"

"Heh, sure did. Wasn't tryin' to prod at'cha, just found it charmin'."

"Charming?" she turns her left cheek slightly to him. "The word you would use to describe my manner of speaking is... charming?"

"Yeah. You speak Eng-- mh... Ponish, you speak it real proper 'n formal-like, more than any one else I've met so far."

"And you speak it very much akin to the residents of the southern establishments."

"Like a hick?"

"... A hick?" she repeats with emphasis.

"Someone who ain't smart."

Luna's expression flashes at his implication, "No! That is not what I infer. Our subjects from the southern cities are intelligent ponies, as are you an intelligent human. It is simply their founded dialect."

"Ah, you ain't gotta be nice about it. I ain't all that smart. Put me up against one of yer researchers 'n I'm left swimmin'. Never stayed in school long enough to learn how'ta speak, have nice hand writin', or... much of anythin' really. Probably the same case for them pony-folk from the south."

"You are correct, schooling is very limited in the region. ... Hm. How thought-provoking. Such a detail I have rarely considered. Through my own up-bringing, I seldom think of such things. Now do you see? You are very much intelligent, unlike a 'hick.'"

"If a gal like you thinks so, I ain't got an argument for it."

"Hmh... 'gal.' If you would not mind my saying so, but the interest you spark in many is well-met. Though you have resided in the Canterlot Castle for over a month, I know nearly nothing about you."

"I can say the same about you, princess Luna."

"Luna, if you would. You endow me with the comfort of relaxed speech, I will grant you the same."

"Luna," he echoes with a smile. "Don't take it the wrong way, but you're kinda like a fable t'me, too. There'r whispers about you every so-often, but now only seein' you? You could say I'm curious."

"As am I about you."

"Well, if you ain't any sorta busy right now, my book's open."

"Very brash, thou art. Your kind is seldom had in a place such as Canterlot."

"Reckon that ain't a good thing."

"On the contrary, it is quite refreshing. Though, I admit... I do not know what to expect of you."

"That's what I'm here for, right?"

"Indeed... then, a question, the first of many."

"Shoot."

"How long have you been awake?"

"... Probably like, eh... half an hour now? Maybe more. Not sure yet. Just woke up, if that's what you were askin'. Made my way here first thing outta bed."

"Mm. To speak to my sister, I assume?"

"Yeah."

"I see. Your body is in good condition despite having just arisen if you have managed to traverse through the Castle."

"Guess so. Still rough around the edges, but two weeks is more than enough fer my type."

"Your type being an Angel of Arch."

"Bingo. You know much about it?"

"Only what my sister receives from her pupil, Head Researcher Wish." Crimson purses his lips and drops his eyes to her faded-blue hoof slippers. Luna tilts her head in concern to his reaction... until it dawns on her. "Ah. Yes. You must have read the letter written by Celestia."

"Listened to it, more-like..." He tries for a light-hearted retort, but it visibly falls through him. "Yeah. I got it. You, uh... you know what it said?"

"Not precisely. My sister spoke briefly to me about it with much paraphrasing. I do, however, know the status concerning you and the Head Researcher."

"... Strange that you call her by her title. More formalities?"

"I do not personally know the Head Researcher as my sister does. It would be tacky for me to refer to her in such a belittling manner."

"Yeah, I got'cha. ... This mean you, uh... know. That I can't see her."

She nods firmly, "Yes, it is forbidden."

"... Wouldn't be a chance you could... do anythin' about that?"

"I do not encroach on my sister's rulings, neither she does mine. It shall remain that way." Crimson's eyes fall desolately towards the carpet under him. "... I am sorry, Crimson."

"Nah, I get it. Forget I asked. ... Don't suppose anythin' changed since I've been out?"

She slowly shakes her head, "It has not. The topic has not been brought to light after the day the letter was delivered to you." Crimson brings a clawed hand to his forehead, gripping it before running his hand back to slide his nails through his hair. Luna quickly notices his rising anxiety, prompting her to continue, "You have my sympathies, Crimson. I could not know what toils you suffer. Despite my attempts, never have I been able to reach through the Dream World into your realm, if only to understand you better."

"... You what?"

"Mh, forgive me. It escapes me that you may not be familiar with my ability to see into the Dream World."

"That mean you can... see into dreams 'r somethin'?"

She nods twice, "That is exactly what it means. A birthright, you might say. Despite this, I am incapable of seeing into your dreams."

"Can't say I've had one. Not lately."

Luna leans closer to him with sharpening eyes. "Do elaborate."

"What it sounds like. Just don't dream. Used to dream all the time when I was younger, almost every night. My imagination was a wild thing. Surprised myself, even. ... Somewhere along the rails of my life, those tracks ended. Gone. Nothin' but dullness in the attic. Didn't think much of it then, 'n I don't now."

As he continues speaking, Luna's mouth slowly drops in rising stupor. "That is unacceptable! A tragedy! To not dream is to not live! We must dream, thou must dream! The release of mind and spirit, the reaching of one's own thoughts, to become familiar with one's own self! What thou speaketh surely cannot transpire!"

"You even said it yerself, you can't reach my dreams. Not because you can't, but because I haven't had any."

"... This cannot be. A dreamless being of sentience?" She glosses his face with her orbs with disbelief radiating from them...

... but she regards it again, what she noted earlier. His eyes, how tired and uninterested they look, despite his relaxed speech and mannerisms.

She leans in a bit closer, scooting herself across the cushion of her throne to sit at the edge of it. "... Thyself art the reason for it." Her rather accusative words draw a lifted brow from him, not of anger, but curiosity. "There is something inside thine eyes that... I have seen within myself."

Crimson says nothing, giving her the air around them freely.

"Because of this indescribable phenomenon, I feel as if... you may understand. Perhaps I am mistaken, but a degree of confiance emanates from you. Though, I feel that I am not, as Celestia has said the same. There is something-- ... I apologize if I ramble."

"If you need'a get somethin' out, I'll rightfully listen."

"Then... I beseech thee-- y... you, that what I say remains between us."

"Not a word," he runs a zipper across his mouth.

As if having-second thoughts, Luna fidgets in place and stares down at the man's idling hands which sit on his criss-crossed legs. "And how am I certain that you will hold yourself to this promise?"

The night-shaded mare widens her eyes as she sees his left hand lift and reach towards her. He gently rests it on her right arm, fingers around her smooth blue coat. Her eyes jump from this contact up towards his face, which also approaches closer.

"Trust is important, Luna."

Her lips come together abashed, continuously treading new conceptual territory inside the man's unfiltered reciprocal action. "... Truly thou-- ... you. You are impetuous."

"Hm?"

"It is no wonder you wound up mortally wounded. Your gallantry knows no bounds..."

Crimson stifles a chuckle and shakes his head, retract his hand to point at her. "Hey, now that ain't nice. ... Not big on bein' touched?"

"... I am... unsure. Startling, certainly. You are the first being to make physical contact with me in countless moons."

Crimson's blithe attitude slowly sobers.

"... Even my sister I seldom embrace. I am alone most nights, as apparent by this one. I patiently await for the Dream World to call upon me to comfort a struggling subject. Once my duty is complete, I return to the solitary waking world."

"All alone, mm. ... Couldn't imagine it. I'm one of them folk that likes to talk to others... bein' on my lonesome fer too long rusts my iron. Does it bother you bein' alone all the time?"

"Another matter I am unsure of. I have been alone for most of my life, rarely broken by my sister or a Night Guard needing to speak to me. Rarely. I know no other way."

"Couldn't you just order one of yer guards to come in 'n keep you company?"

"... I would rather not."

"You've thought about it?"

"Of course. Being in solitude for a time as mine, much comes to thought."

"It seems to me like you prefer bein' alone. You sure I ain't botherin' you right now?"

"Nay, Crimson. Your presence is not unwarranted. Why do you insist that you intrude?"

"... Just gettin' mixed signals, is all. Gives me a feelin' that somethin' else is goin' on." He lifts his brows at her. "Reckon it has to do with what you wanted to tell me. Wouldn't be the case, would it?"

She averts her gaze and visibly wrestles with her inner self. With a huff, she looks at him again. "There is much I wish to say, but none to say it to. You... would you listen to me ramble?"

He scoots in closer, closing the small gap they had between them. His crossed legs sit perpendicular to her, having his left knee slightly rested on the cushion of her throne. With his left shoulder to the right armrest of the throne, he looks to his left to smile at her. "'M all ears."

"... Then, I hold you on your promise. You will speak of this to no pony."

He nods once. Luna proceeds to, in quite a suspicious manner, quickly shift her gaze left and right... and shortly after, she turns her head left and sneezes. Her muzzle scrunches as her eyelids squeeze close, even her horn twinkles with magic from the force of the sneeze.

Crimson feels a bit strange watching her. It was pretty damn cute, but very sudden. It did not dawn on him that even these ponies could be prone to sickness, though, she hardly looks ill. Before he has the chance to really ponder on it, he blurts out of reaction, "Bless you."

"With gratitude. ... Now, with your promise to uphold the sanctity of this conversation, I will tell you. I am... losing myself. My resolve against her is wavering. The things she speaks, and how they make me feel... I am losing control."

Crimson tilts his head at her and furrows his brows, saying nothing to allow her continued speech.

"A kind of pure darkness that resides in my very being. She and I are one in the same, yet we are nothing alike. She... wants to break free - enabled through my own emotions. Nightmare Moon."

"An alter-ego?"

"Threadbare conceptualization agrees with your statement... but she is more than simply that. In essence, she is her own being that will use my flesh as a catalyst. She is much greater than a mere concept, beyond a personality, she is alive. And I harbor this demon due to the same birthright I spoke of earlier... a consequence of it, one might say."

"So this Nightmare Moon, you're tryin'a keep her from takin' you over. But?"

She turns her face towards the blue-shade carpet that spans across the length of the room. "It is... it is completely selfish of me to feel this way."

Crimson tilts his head at her, moving his face closer to her stargazing eyes, watching her with profound curiosity.

"I have only myself to blame for my sentiments, but I cannot help but-- ... " She sighs, visibly recomposing herself.

"What sentiments?"

"My sentiments against... Celestia."

"Never expected you to have a grudge against yer sister."

"That is not how I would describe what I feel, but I am indeed irked by our differences. Many of her qualities are immaculate, and she lives the life of a noble as a noble should. Her daily affairs allow her comforts I do not have. You already know this, but I am the princess of the night. Luna; Moon. A light in the sky shone onto all, but seen by few. I exist only in the dreams of my subjects, but even accounted, rarely so. I do not have a true presence. My light does not shine like that of my sister's. I am a shadow while she glows."

Crimson keeps a firm gaze on her front as she speaks regardless of her looking away. As she continues, her tone sharpens and her air glooms. To the unwise, she looks calm and collected, a natural air that radiates from her presence.

"When I say this," Crimson begins, "I mean it with respect." Her eyes move to him. "Yer jealous of Celestia. No two ways about it."

Again, she looks away, expression unchanging. "No. It is not jealousy. It is disdain. Not for my sister... but for myself. She was blessed with the soul of the sun. There is no reason to be jealous of such a gift to my loved one... but the curse I hold is another matter. A life hardly lived; my birthright."

Crimson ogles at her with toiling muse, the connection is almost uncanny. A cursed birthright...

"It is even as you said, dearest Crimson. I am but a fable. To my very own subjects, I am seen merely as a parable. Then, beyond the scope of recognition, I do not have the pleasures that many have. I am awake when all are asleep, thus is my duty. To this effect, I do not consume luxuries such as the Castle spa, dining with acquaintances, or general commuting. What many perceive as a normal living stature, I have never found it fit to understand. I have seen it in my sister's gaze... a pity in her heart laid for me. A life hardly worth living all because... I am the princess of the night. The lesser of two halves."

"... You're wrong, Luna."

With this simple retort, her orbs move to glare at him. "How could you possibly say such a thing? You do not know the life I lead. You do not know what I endure."

"Yeah, I don't."

"Then your prude calling has no place!" Her voice does not raise very much in volume, but the severity in her tone is grating.

Crimson shakes his head slowly, lifting a palm to signal her ease. "I'm not sayin' yer wrong 'cause you think yer life is unfair... I'm sayin' you're wrong because you think you're the lesser of two halves. I know you're wrong about that. You and yer sister, you're two links of a chain. Sturdy, made of the same metal. Not one'a you is better than the other, 'n without each other, yer not a chain at all. You both matter the same. Sayin' otherwise is just ignorin' a fact of life. What's day without night? 'N night without day?"

"If we are a chain, then I am the feeble link, strained until shattered. Nightmare Moon awaits for that day..."

"Not if you don't let it. I'd wager you're stronger than she is, and the only thing keepin' her from comin' out is you. You just gotta keep on fightin', and I see plenty fight left in you," he says as he mires deeply into her orbs, seeing his own reflection in them.

Luna softens her gaze at him, silently admiring his rising determination. "I cannot see a way to escape her wrath. There is little I or anypony else could do. She plucks at every pedal until the very last. One day, truly in the dead of night, she will take ahold. As we speak, keeping myself contained is proving difficult. I struggle against her tirelessly, unremitting mental anguish, one I cannot have the privilege to admit. This tribulation I wade through alone, through the dark nights I cast..."

The hardness in her voice finally gives in for a quiver. Her morose orbs shimmer elegantly under her own moonlight, mingling with the despondency growing in her air.

This princess of the night, Crimson could not know what she has gone through or what she holds. As he gazes at her, a melancholic resonation waves through him at realizing how young she must be. Perhaps older than the average mare, yet hardly a fully-grown adult. More about her aura speaks youth rather than royalty... yet here she is, combating an inner demon that strives to use her existential crisis as leverage to ruin her life.

A cursed birthright, something Crimson sympathizes with. Fortunately for him, he needed not trudge through it alone.

He knows exactly what Luna lacks.

"... You're not alone anymore."

Luna slowly lifts her head to look at the man who spoke.

"I'm here. I'll be here. With you."

"..." she lowers her gaze again. "Please do not speak such fooleries. Do not impede on your own life for the sake of mine, it is not what I desire."

Crimson smiles slightly, slouching forward a bit to fit his face in her peripheral. Once she turns her orbs up to him, noting his wry smirk, it grows a bit wider. "You weren't kiddin' when you said you didn't know me very well." Luna takes this response with a degree of hesitance. "I'll be with you if you need someone. You're not alone. You can count on it."

"Again, I ask that the absurd claims cease. You would not even be awake when I am in need."

"Awake? That yer concern, that I won't be awake? Luna... 'case you haven't noticed, it's some-damn-hour at night. I've slept fer two weeks, and I don't feel a lick-a tired. Safe to reckon my internal clock is shot." In growing realization, the young princess tilts her head. "Reckon bein' a night-owl can't be so bad." He slowly reaches in, giving her leeway to react... but she remains still. She allows his left hand to her right cheek, cupping it softly. She quivers at the touch, akin to a feline being oddly uncomfortable with contact only to slowly meld into it. "... Any time you need me, Luna. You're not alone. You say you're not strong enough to fight 'er, but I gotta disagree. I'd even say yer stronger than Celestia, if not physically..." he moves his hand to gently brush the back of his fingers at her chest. "... spiritually. Takes a real strong type to deal with things alone and in the dark... but everyone knows that you can't be strong forever. So I'll be here to lean on if you ever need rest, get you back on yer fours."

Her glittered eyes stare fondly into his. Her first smile of the night turns on her lips. "... Yes, well... the same grace is upon you, Crimson. You, as well, are not alone." The man raises his chin, surprised by her fortified reply. "You cannot hide it from me, it is present in your gaze... you are as I am. You have been strong for too long. Perhaps this meeting was in due to fate."

The word resonates in his head several times... Fate.

"Nightmare Moon does not rest, and I am weary... but you believe in me more than I do myself. And your own steadfast courage for yourself is proof enough that you sustain through the drudgeries of life despite all that you have been through."

"And I'll be here to share that strength with you."

"..." Luna's smile grows slightly, turning her face to the left with closed eyes. "Worry not, dearest Crimson. I will not need your presence, but only your faith. As long as you believe in me, I will persevere. Truly, it is all I ever wanted - to be acknowledged. My subjects may never see me as they do my sister, but you helped me realize something I already knew. It is not necessary for them to see in such a way. What you have shown me tonight is something I have beheld only in Celestia. Such unadulterated... compassion. True benevolence. The intimacies of being alive remind me that I am capable of overcoming all obstacles."

She realizes that Crimson is only watching her speak while smiling, cheek rested on knuckles with half-lidded eyes.

"... Is... there something amiss?"

"Anyone ever tell you you've got a soothin' voice?"

Luna's gaze fixes for a rather stern stare, ever-so slightly tinted with embarrassment. "... You are uninhibited, Crimson."

Suddenly, the doors to the throne room are bashed open rather viciously. The pair turn their heads quickly, seeing that both shadowed guards that were protecting the door outside have charged in with pointed pikes and charged magic.

"Princess Luna!" the stallion yells in worry.

Both guards freeze in their action, seeing that the human is sitting close to the princess, but nothing appears awry.

Luna's front quickly solidifies, taking on a mild hint of annoyance. "Explain this bombastic display."

"... We..." the stallion lowers his pike quickly, followed by the mare letting her magic fade. "W-We... t-the... the moon, princess. It has not moved. We allowed the Angel of Arch entry, and soon after, the moon ceased any movement. W-We..."

"You assumed that he attempted at my life?" Luna descants. Crimson's expression hardens and he stands up, taking a shred of offense at the deep accusation.

Both Night Guards bow humbly, "We sincerely apologize, dear princess Luna. We are only worried for your safety."

"Return to your post," the princess demands calmly. Both guards peak up and salute sharply, turning about-face and marching out side-by-side. After they make their exit, she turns to the standing man. "My sincerest apologies--"

"Sorry fer distractin' you, Luna," he apologizes before she can finish hers.

"Mm. Worry not, it was my mistake allowing my responsibility slip through my mind." Her horn softly glows but stops shortly after.

He witnesses in real time the moon steadily move across the sky, making up lost time in the span of a few seconds. He shoves his hands into his pockets and smiles, still watching the moon. "Reckon that means I should let you be. I tend to do that to people."

Luna turns to face the night light in the sky as well, contemplating briefly. "... Yes, well... I am certain that there are places you must be. Is there?"

"... Guess I can check out the new room Celestia moved me to. The guards gonna give me issues if they see me struttin' about at this time?"

"They will not. There is no curfew, and my sister has granted you unobstructed access to all Castle faculties. Save, of course, for the Head Researcher's domicile."

"... Hmn." He rubs the back of his head, realizing that the effort he put into sneaking past the guards was pointless. His eyes shift towards a new luminescent light, that found on the plot of the night princess. The mark on her rear has started to glow, pulsing with a gentle strobe. "Somethin' wrong?"

"The Dream World calls to me. The timing for our departure is impeccable."

"Someone havin' bad dreams?"

She nods once, "And oddly enough, again from the same kin."

"Reoccurrin' nightmares, huh. Not somethin' I've ever had."

"It is highly unusual, especially since it is different families with the same nightmare."

"Hm," Crimson purses his lower lip upward. "... It might be pryin' to ask, but... mind tellin' me what nightmare this might be?"

"It is perceived differently by the eyes of my subjects, but the outcome is the same; a formless, shadowed force consuming the entire junction of Dodge."

The man's expression beams in wonder. "Dodge. ... This mean..."

"The magical anomalies that my sister's Royal Elite strive to abolish has attacked the junction? I confirm that is not the case. My subjects have yet to encounter it, yet have had reoccurring nightmares. It is highly irregular."

He crosses his arms and stares at the ground in a brief moment of muse. "... Hm. Think I might pay Dodge another visit soon."

"Do be cautious with this endeavor."

He turns his face to Luna now, giving her a rather satisfied smile. "Yeah. It was nice seein' you, Luna. Talkin' to you... think this is just what I needed."

"Likewise, dearest Crimson. I am certain thou'st heard this many-a time, but... take care of thine self. As thou understand well, the world is a dangerous place."

Crimson begins his descent down the throne stairs, stopping midway to look back to her. "Know I will. G'night, Luna."

She smiles wryly and nods in response. She watches him as he makes his trek across the room, moving across the blue carpet towards the golden doors. He pushes the doors open manually and makes his exit. The doors close, leaving her alone once again. The familiarity of being alone...

... though now, it feels comforting. A warm hearth kindled in her heart previously cold. Her eyes come to a close, and her duties as the night's guardian reassume.

Redirected

~ Canterlot Castle, the Grand Halls ~<
February 22nd, Monday, 00:57

‎

His sandals cease their clacking on the Castle's marble flooring when halting at an end of the grand halls. This end branches left and right, where the left is the only method of access to the Castle Residences he knows...

... which means he needs to skirt by her room. He hopes it won't sting as much as he thinks it will.

Inhaling deeply, he progresses forward and takes the left turn towards the East Tower. There, down at the end of the hall, he can see it... her room... and the two gold-armored guards that now stand before the rotunda, making sure a certain someone is not guaranteed access.

He grows a bitterness in his mouth; a newly planted patrol just for him. His brows tent his eyes subconsciously, he garners more unrest as he approaches closer to them. The guards, of course, have already spotted him and track him at every step.

As Crimson now reaches the East Tower, the guards stiffen their posture and softly tap the ends of their pikes on the floor. The man squints at them. No words are exchanged as he passes them by and ascends the staircase to the right of the rotunda. He takes one last look at the cobalt doors that he cannot enter, wondering if she's already asleep... then he rises up the steps.

Now at the residences, he makes way towards the room he was supposedly assigned - a room right next to Swirl's. Considering hers is the very first one to the right, he can only guess that his is the second door. It has no particular decal or marking to show that is it owned so he assumes rightfully. He walks up to it but keeps his gaze placed on Swirl's door, shut and quiet just like the rest.

...

He becomes aware of his idle staring, realizing he spent a few seconds simply standing at the front of his door to stare at his neighbor's. He then proceeds to take the door handle into his hand. He tries clicking it open and pushing it with his shoulder, but instead finds himself accidentally bending the door in by sheer force when it refuses to open. The door groans loudly in protest. He back pedals quickly before he breaks the door off its hinges.

His shoulders droop as he sighs. "... Locked," he comes to conclude since his waking was unannounced, the room technically still belongs to no one.

Cli-click...

He snaps his attention to the door on his right, seeing the handle glowing with a soft pink aura and move inwards. It does not come fully open, only pried a crack so that a big pink iris can peek out. It scans him from bottom to top, stopping at his face.

"... Swirl?" the man asks after a moment. Her eye widens and she takes a few steps back to pull the door open completely with her magic. Crimson side-steps to the front of her room and smiles wryly, staring down at the unclothed sunflower unicorn. "Didn't wake you, did I?"

"Were you the one who made that sound?" she replies calmly but with present shock on her front.

"Yeah, apologies. Tried to get into my room but... t'slocked. Guess I ain't gettin' in there."

"And your next course of action was to break the door?"

Crimson snickers and shakes his head, "Not intentionally. Didn't know it wasn't gonna open fer me. Less sturdy than it looks."

"Crimson... what... what are you doing?" she finally asks a question equal to her stupor. He replies with a fixed expression of confusion. Swirl furrows her brows at him and puckers her lips, mildly upset at his aloof nature. The shock present on her face is finally setting in with the rest of her mind. She presses her eyelids for a strong blink and sighs, "Come inside."

She moves herself from the way of the door and allows Crimson entry, which he promptly follows suit and walks in. He gently closes the door behind himself and glances around the room. It is just the way he remembered seeing it a month ago, taking some solace in knowing nothing apparent has changed while he was out. He turns his body to look at the clock on the wall to his left, seeing that it... actually isn't as late as he assumed. The time reads about 11:45.

Though now he does see something that was not present before; there is a blanket and two pillows on the two-cushion couch in the living room, reminding him of a certain someone. "Strix not here?"

"She and Bulletpoint are out dining together."

"Didn't wanna go with 'em?"

"No. Take a seat, if you would like."

"Appreciate the hospitality," he says as he makes a path to the middle cushion of the largest couch and leans forward, placing his elbows onto his knees as he drives his rear down onto the blanket. Swirl follows behind and sits on the blankets of the couch next to him.

They sit together in a moment of silence with either of them waiting for something to be said.

"You're... awake," Swirl finally murmurs first.

"Yeah."

"And I assume you were not properly dismissed from the Infirmary."

"... Just up 'n left."

"The staff will be very upset at you. When did you wake?"

"Well, mm... maybe an hour 'r two ago. Was a spell sore at first, but... gettin' better pretty quick."

"That is good. You are recovering well."

Crimson nods at her despite her having her eyes turned to the ground. He smiles and leans his weight on his left elbow as he looms a bit closer to her. "'N I've been told I got you to thank fer savin' my sorry hide."

"I only stifled your bloodloss while you were being transported back to Canterlot. It was the Infirmary staff that saved your life."

"Hmh, a certain princess lettered to me it weren't so simple."

"..."

"Modest as always, ain'cha? I'd be the first to thank you for doin' what you did, no need to hold back on it."

She shakes her head, squinting down at her hooves. "I merely did what had to be done. There were no other unicorns present. ... The one deserving of gratitude is..." Crimson's smile slowly fades as her words do. Her head lowers somberly, causing parts of her backswept mane to fall forward over her eyes. "You," she meekly whispers.

"... Said it yerself, only did what I had to do."

"Yes, but... it is different. We failed to keep the mission intact. Things escalated so quickly, it was difficult to keep track of the situation. None of us were prepared for the yak prince's attack, but you were. You could have easily avoided it rather than stop it head-on."

"'N let my team get ran down?" He shakes his head twice, "Not happenin'."

"You were supposed to proceed with caution, Crimson. That was your directive."

"Guess I'm bad at followin' directions."

"... I suppose you are."

Crimson is unable to ignore the soft somberness of her voice, the one usually so dead-pan in delivery. In combination with her distant self, the man purses his lips and tries to find something interesting to redirect the conversation to. "... We, uh... we enemies of the yaks now?"

She shakes her head once, "No. The only aggressor was the yak prince."

"What came'a him?"

"He is now deceased. During your collision, he sustained multiple breaks along his spinal cord and died instantly. Even with the magic of the belt empowering him, he was unable to avoid bodily harm from such a high-energy impact."

"Damn. What'd his folks think of this?"

"Most were too dumbfounded to react. It was a moment that needed time for any of us to really understand. Nevertheless, the yaks aided us with carrying you back to the balloon, and once they establish new leadership, we have conducted an agreement for mutual relations. The yaks are not enemies, but now allies. And according to them, you are an honorary yak. You have Binyor's next of kin to thank for that."

"Hmh, good to hear. 'N the belt?"

"It has been in Head Researcher Wish's possession for over a week. She has extracted what she could from it, but... we are again stuck at a cross-roads. The signatures on both artifacts in her possession appear to be conflicting, as if there was some sort of median to connect them. But that mean is missing, and both artifacts do not converse without it."

"So all this boils down to is: we're missin' relics."

"Yes, unfortunately. It seems that we have acquired these artifacts in the wrong order, and... we have been unable to track down the others. No new information regarding their locations has been found, though we are constantly searching. At the moment, we are... waiting," she says through a sigh of impatience.

Crimson turns his eyes to the ground despondently, now realizing that his final mission with his team ended up netting him nothing. No further clues on the whereabouts of other relics, no advancement in the study of the anomalies. Stuck in the mud without a stick to grab on to. He brings his hand to his forehead in frustration...

... but soon comforted by a melancholic calling of Swirl's tone. "It is still setting into my mind."

"What?"

"You. You are here exchanging idle chatter with me, but... not long ago, it was nightmarish. So much mortal damage done to your body, yet, here you are, alive, speaking to me as if you were never bedridden. Everything that I doubted before is now shone perfectly for me to see. Perhaps a cliché, one you have heard already, but... you truly are a guardian angel."

The man lulls his eyes to the lava lamp on the table in front of him. Watching the oozing liquid flow lazily, he finds it difficult to internalize what she said. He might look like one, he might have the body of one... but he certainly does not feel like one. "... Think so?" he asks with a dreary smile.

"Firmly... very firmly. To think tonight's nightfall marks two weeks that you saved our lives... I am having such a difficult time wrapping my head around it. That day, your act of heroism, I was... so afraid."

Crimson's attention moves quickly at that word. 'Afraid.'

"I tried everything in my power to sustain you, to halt the pouring of blood from every aberration on your body... and I felt it was not enough. I felt that I was going to fail you... again. No matter how I tried, which-way I enveloped you... blood kept pouring. Then I... I..." She sighs brokenly and blinks twice, lifting her glistening gaze to the ceiling.

Crimson immediately reads her distraught, causing him to sit up and wave his hands carefully. "Hey-hey, it's alright, don't say any more. Look at me." She hesitates to do so at his first request. "... Swirl."

She shuts her eyes tightly and inhales, turning her head to face him. Her eyes reopen, still battling against tears. None fall as they gaze at each other.

"You saved me. You didn't let me down. None other unicorn could'a done what you did. Yer special, you've got talent, and you can bet I'd put myself on the line again if I knew you were standin' right behind me."

Swirl sniffles, garnering the most sincere and wholesome smile he has seen on her, perhaps even the very first smile at all. She shakes her head as if dismissing what he said, but holds on to her simper. "Would it be strange if I told you I now understand the concern the Head Researcher has with you?"

"'Cha mean?"

"You know what I am referring to, Crimson..."

He reclines back and sighs, chuckling at himself being easily prodded. "It ain't a stretch, I'd reckon."

"Fortunately for you, you will no longer suffer such agonies. We have officially lost your assistance in the Guard as mandated by Princess Celestia, though, I'm certain you are already aware of this."

He nods, "No more rollin' stones with y'all. Heh, but don't make it sound like I won't be gettin' into trouble, now. My life's been full of it. More than likely gonna find a few more bad spots when I venture out."

"Again, another expectancy from the Head Researcher's dilemma. If that is how it must be, then... I can only ask you that you take care of yourself as best as possible."

"You know I will, girly."

"Even if you are no longer permitted to associate with us, I want you to understand that you have been a great asset-- ... mnh... " Crimson lifts his eyes to look at her again, noticing her struggle with her words. "... Asset, no... you have been..." Once more their eyes meet, locking for a second, then her lips line as she turns away. "... Please stop staring at me."

Crimson does as she asks and returns his gaze to the floor. He cannot help but smile at her request, albeit tired and wry.

"You have been... a... hnn," Swirl adjusts herself in her seat, anxiously looking up to the ceiling as she did before. "... A great... friend. And that is how I think of you. Despite how I come across, I... wanted you to know this."

"You too, Swirl. Nothin' short of a friend to me. Under all that ice, I always knew you got a warm heart."

His words cause a mixture of offense and comfort, driving her to fixate on him with a mild glare. He feels her staring at him, prompting him to stare back. Again, she looks away not long after their eyes meet. He admires her trembling orbs under the mixture of lights that emanate from the lava lamp in her room. Speaking for her strong will, she fought her emotions well enough to prevent tears.

Then a comfortable number of seconds pass in a glowing, tender silence...

... just before-- Cli-cli--Bam!

"'N 'as wha'am sayin', mate!"

Both Swirl and Crimson turn like sentries at the door being clicked and kicked opened, followed by two stumbling pegasi. Swirl immediately frowns and straightens her posture.

"Prim 'n proper cunt slept 'n 'is own shite!"

"Ahahahaha!"

"Both of you!" Swirl fiercely whisper-yells the attention of Strix and Bulletpoint, both who lazily turn their drunken gazes to her. "Do you even know what time it is!? Be. Quiet!"

The two inebriated pegasi let their attention drift to the sitting man just over yonder, seemingly ignoring Swirl. They both hone in on him, staring with lop-sided squints. Crimson returns the stare with slightly raised brows.

"... Mate..." Bulletpoint utters.

They continue staring at him...

speechless...

...

"MA-HATE!" "CRIMSON!" the two cry out as they dash towards him. Unexpecting of their charge, Crimson reels back in surprise. Both ponies leap onto him and cling to his sides and commence an unrelenting fusillade.

Wrapping their arms around his, Strix on his right and Bulletpoint on his left, they press themselves against him as they weep.

"Hooo!" Strix coos as she rubs her cheek against his shoulder.

"Hoho, mate! I can't believe it!" Bulletpoint overlaps his call over Strix's sobbing.

Crimson shifts his stare between them before resting it idly forward on the lava lamp. He keeps still, letting the two against him reel as they must.

Just out of his sight, Swirl averts her gaze. The outpour of emotion drills into her heart, causing a single tear to quietly tremble itself out and ride down her left cheek.

"You're okay! You're okaaay!" Strix murmurs.

"Heh... a warm howdy to the both of y'all," Crimson replies.

"Fackin'-- Ahahaaa, mate," Bulletpoint sighs between his tears. "It was with the yaks 'n then with the magic then the magic ponies 'n-- ... You're fuckin' alive, ya' wanka! Ya' worried us to death with the blood, 'n the bones, 'n the shite! Fack'n shite I can't e'en begin' na'--"

"YOU'RE OOKAA-HA-HA-HAAAY!" Strix howls into the night.

Crimson rolls his shoulders back to bring his arms out and wrap them both into a hug, holding them against him with a tender smile. "Easy, easy, 'm here. It's alright. Sshh, sshh... sshh, sshh..."

As he whistles a soothing tone akin to a parent to their children, Strix and Bulletpoint begin to simmer their crying to breathy whimpers. He glances between both of them, admiring the purest emission from their drunken state. Bulletpoint's bloodshot eyes and Strix's pinkened cheeks, the duo riddled with tears, he feels it in the deepest reaches of his soul. Their unfiltered selves... it drives peace into his heart.

He gives them all the time they need to stain his shirt sleeves with catharsis. Soon enough, their sobs turn into a sniffling haze of semi-conscious reflection.

"... Crimson," Strix whimpers, "I'm so happy that you're here... I, like... I honestly didn't know what to do back then. When, well... you know... it happened. Snowfall, she... she was really the only one... I just listened to her voice..."

"You wouldn't believe it, mate," Bulletpoint continues after her, "the mess, yer arma', the blood... you best reckon I've seen some shit, but you were-- ah-- ... hrrrh... you were still alive, mate... a breathin' corpse. Dyin'... ... but never dead..."

"Your heart never stopped beating, Crim," Strix gently strokes his right thigh, "it never stopped... but we were so scared that it would..."

Crimson runs his tongue across the bottom of his teeth, lacking what to say in return to them. He instead moves, holding them just a slight squeeze tighter to give his assurance. He then brings his musing gaze up from the lava lamp to look at Swirl, wondering of her silent self. She still has her eyes averted, noticing the sniffles she has now developed. "... Swirl?" he calls to her. It takes her a moment, but she looks over to him with a glowing curiosity. He tilts his head at her wonder, signaling her to come over.

Swirl remains held in place by her own volition. She returns her reply by shaking her head and looking away.

Still distant and reserved. Nothing unlike her. Crimson is content with her decision either way, letting the moment sit and settle.

‎

~~~<

‎

It did not take long for the drunken pair to retire for the night. Passing out on Crimson's shoulders, he and Swirl allowed them the couch to rest. Now at Swirl's request, they trekked to her bedroom as to not bother them. Albeit an offer that Swirl felt awkward offering, it was a good suggestion no less.

Stepping into her room, Crimson shoots his eyes around lazily. A rather simple room with many books and scrolls neatly placed on shelves, a multitude of medals, trophies, and plaques that speak for her past achievements, a modern-looking recliner, and a modest bed. The whole room dons the exact purple and blue coloration as the rest of her home, more-so the coloration of the Castle itself.

Swirl moves to her bed and climbs on, sitting on the edge of it to face the entrance. She offers the man the recliner, which he takes gratefully. It fits him comfortably with just enough room to spread his legs.

"Got a lot of shiny stuff in yer room," the man comments. "Mind givin' me a piece of the past?"

"Many of my commendations were from my years in school. They are organized by year, starting from the right side of the door. Magic Kindergarten," she points her hoof to the smaller section of medals and ribbons. "Elementary," her hoof follows. "The School of Magic, the Canterlot Academy of Magic, and finally, my awards from the Royal Research team."

"There's gotta be over a hundred."

"Correct. One-hundred and seventy-two."

"Means yer gettin' fistfuls of these per year. Knew you were a bright one, but sheesh."

"I am certain the Head Researcher owns double what I do. What I have is not nearly as impressive."

"Mm... now that you mention it, I don't recall seein' but two 'r three shiny things around her, both at her Balt'mare home 'n her Castle room."

"... She might have stored them away. She was never proud of her accomplishments, hated receiving praise for her hard work."

"Ain't surprised to hear that, but that don't mean I agree with it. Don't reckon you know why?"

"Judgement. There was always somepony wanting first place much more than Moonlight, but she would usually achieve it regardless. Moving up to a stage, walking down an isle, the eyes of the crowd that followed her always made her restless."

"Hm. She couldn't even give her speech when she graduated top of her class in that there Magic Academy."

"... So you know about that. Would I be wrong to assume you know about her past as well?"

"Do you?"

"Only as much as the other Researchers do, but I never found their explanations to her sudden leaving of Canterlot sound. As if they were shrouding something sinister with lip-service. I am not asking you to reveal anything to me... but know I am aware that there is more to her."

Crimson intertwines his fingers and twiddles his thumbs together. The more he is reminded of what he was told, the more it irks him. He knows jumping into a revenge trip will not solve the issues that plague the land, but...

"Crimson?" The man quickly turns to Swirl, having his attention garnered back to reality. "... May I ask you a question?"

"Y... Yeah, f'course," he replies while sitting up and leaning forward.

"What now do you plan on doing?"

"... Wander for a spell, I suppose. See more of Equestria. Get familiar with the land. That was my initial goal when I got here. Woke up in a haze, hard of thought... wanted to leave. Go back home. See if I could find a way to return to Earth."

"Earth..." Swirl echoes, "your home world. You are wanting to return home?"

"Not 'till I get my part here done... whatever my part happens to be. I still ain't sure what I'm even doin' here. Thought I got it figured out a number of times already... but it's always a kick in the head."

"Is there anything specific that you aim to achieve? Perhaps visit a location? Find something?"

"There is somethin'. Somethin' that's bugged me since I got here. The humans y'all have around here, I wanna know more about 'em."

"There are many books about them in the Castle library if you wish to look."

"Nah, not that. I mean... hmn, how do I explain this." He brings his fingers to his right eyebrow in thought. "Somethin' ain't right, and I don't reckon a book will help me figure it out. Know what I mean?"

"... In a way, I do. I am not well-versed in the history of Equestria's humans, but there might be more to learn that what is already known. I suggest you map out a plan. You cannot simply jump straight into an endeavor like this."

"Map out a plan..." he mumbles in repetition as he churns his mental gears. He looks down towards his hands, eyeing the 'M' crease on his left palm. He ponders and ponders, but no concrete objective or solid plan is coming to mind. He squints slightly, feeling mildly frustrated at being unable to truly speak out a course of action for himself. A plethora of ideas with no medium.

"Crimson," she calls to reattain his attention. "... I wanted to ask you something else." He nods to her request solemnly. "Something you said to me earlier. It... left me with a feeling of uneasiness. Do you recall when I told you that you truly were... a guardian angel."

"Mm?"

"... In return, you only asked me if I truly thought so. In that moment, I saw something that... for the lack of better wording, was hidden. Something I could not see... or rather, you did not allow me to see."

Crimson focuses on her intently, unsure of where she is planning to take this.

"How well do you know yourself?"

"That a question you expect an answer to?" She nods slowly and seriously. "... Well enough, I suppose. I know what ticks me off, know what puts a grin on my face. Know who I love, who I don't... the likes."

"That is not what I am referring to. You already know what is."

"... Do I?"

"Nnh," Swirl huffs in self-annoyance. "Forgive my lack of direction. Even I know that it is... absurd. What I am about to say has no basis in fact or reason, but something... spoke with me. As if a whispering wind swept through my own self. It told me about you. A great part of you needs attention. It needs to be known. Studied."

As she speaks, Crimson's gaze falls to the carpet. His eyes shift small distances left and right while he processes what she says, further solidifying the assumption. He looks back down to his palm, every intricate nook and crease... then he cups it into a fist. "... And you're thinkin' yer the one to do it?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Didn't say that, but why interested all of a sudden? You're actin' like Moonlight."

"I would be lying if I said you are not an interesting being, but a part of me wishes to offer this help beyond sheer curiosity. Through my eyes, I see that you have not given yourself time to stop and think. You are constantly moving, doing things."

Crimson shakes his head. "Not on purpose. Just... never really had the time to. Always somethin' needin' doin'."

"Then take this time you have now to understand yourself better. I can help."

"'N how do you plan on doin' that?"

"A series of simple tests that I will refine as I think more on them."

"Not big on bein' a guinea pig..."

"You will never know what you are truly capable of if you don't asses it. Crimson, it is for the bettering of yourself. Accept this as advice from... from a friend."

He grins slightly at her forcing herself to utter such a sweet yet awkward note. "Never said no. Matter of fact, I'm thinkin' yer right. It's about time I finally sat down 'n see why I am what I am. Ain't got an excuse to put it off now. Plus," he sits up and glances to Swirl with a sly smile. "Wouldn't agree to these tests if weren't the one 'n only Miss Bubblegum doin' 'em."

Swirl beats at him with her eyes, expressionless and unmoving. Gawking.

A weighty stare.

Then a small smile as her entire front relaxes, a smile that forms slowly and happily. Crimson hardly believes it. Such an adorably true display forces his cheeky simper to wane into a smile as genuine as hers. He feels guilty for trying to rile her up. Not the reaction he expected out of his jape, but a welcomed one nonetheless.

"... But it wouldn't be here." Crimson tilts his head at Swirl's words, spoken while letting her smile quickly fade. "It would have to be at the Las Pegasus research lab, they have the equipment necessary there."

"Don't mind the place. When'll you be puttin' me under?"

"Soon. I'm not sure yet, but I do want you to be aware. Do you plan on leaving Canterlot any time soon?"

"Come to think of it, there's a place in the Castle I wanna visit. Thinkin' I won't be leavin' the city, but I'll let you know if somethin' comes up."

"As I will with any further information about your screening. We may use my room as a hub."

"Sounds good."

Swirl slowly lowers her head as she flaps an elongated blink, followed then by a yawn.

"I should let you sleep. Reckon I bothered you enough fer one night."

"Do you have somewhere to rest tonight?"

"'F I'm sly enough, be able to sneak back into the Infirmary. Won't be missed I think."

"... You're welcome to stay here, if you would like."

"..." Crimson takes a moment to ponder on her offer. Not on the offer itself, but how her words came. They were rather insecure and forced. "... Thinkin' the only couch that fits me is taken."

"I can sleep on my recliner. I would not mind spending the night in it. You may have my bed."

"Or..." the man halts her with a finger raised, then uses it to point at the bed. "We can share it." Swirl recoils immediately at his suggestion, plastering him with a glare of incredulity. "... Hmh, just jokin', girly."

Swirl loosens up at his tone, but still visibly holds reservations. "You are still hard of humor. That will not change, it seems. ... You may have the bed. I am comfortable with the recliner."

Crimson nods with a yielding smirk. "Appreciate it. Be outta yer hair in the mornin'," he says as he raises from the recliner to allow Swirl access. He steps aside to let her pass, then proceeds to the bed and laying down. He rests on his back without getting under the covers, letting his half-lidded eyes watch the deep blue ceiling in hopes he will fall asleep.

...

The night moves at a snail's pace. He becomes restless and eventually deems himself incapable of falling asleep. He figured this was inevitable.

With a quick glance to the sleeping unicorn near by, he decides to make an exit without disturbing her peace.

Faint Whispers

~ Canterlot Castle, the Infirmary ~<
February 22, Monday, 1:58

‎

Quiet and lonely does he pace down the halls of the infirmary. No scolding nurses, no gawking visitors.

He wasn't planning on returning here but he can't help but be curious. Her family must have caught wind of her staying at the Castle, if not, relocated her to the Canterlot orphanage. Certainly after his two week hiatus she wouldn't be found in the same place. No matter the case, he makes a path towards her room.

He doesn't remember the room number but recalls the trail. As a matter of fact, he can see it coming up at an annex, just before the hall splits into four ways.

The curtain is moved over the door window. Perhaps another patient now takes residence. It might be uncalled for to peek into a stranger's room though he can't find it in himself to care. He takes the door handle and clicks it open as softly as he can, then proceeds to push the door in to scope inside.

"Nh?" he questions in a quiet huff of breath.

She's still there. Furi is still resting on the same bed she was two weeks ago, moreover, she's staring right at him fully awake. Her eyes beam at setting sights on him, she can't help but gasp and quickly sit up.

But before she can make any sort of loud sound or speak wildly, Crimson puts his finger to his mouth to silence her. He makes his entrance with this gesture until he's fully inside and closes the door behind him. Making way towards her, he notes the other infirmary bed in the room is empty but shows remnants of a recent occupant. A deflating balloon, a toy, and a few crumbs that need to be swept up. Though now, they are no longer here. But she still is.

"Hey, girly," the man coos.

"Cremsun!"

He sits on the edge of her bed while she scurries out of her blankets, moving to throw herself onto his stomach for a hug. He doesn't recall ever telling her his name, but he supposes it isn't a mystery. "How you doin', Furi?" he asks as he holds her tiny form against him.

"Okay!"

"Great to hear, darlin'," he replies while they ease off each other to make eye contact. "The nurses haven't let you go yet?"

"Noh," she states with obvious guilt. A white lie she follows up with, "Um... the nurses let me go, but I said I don't wanna go."

"Don't wanna leave the Infirmary? How come?"

"Um... I, uhm... I waited for you. Nurses said you visited me, but I never saw you. I... wanted to see you. Hoped you would visit again."

The man's heart melts drip by drip. Replying to her becomes a brief challenge while wrestling with his pity. "... You're a gem, Furi. Here I am."

"Mm!~" she nods and hugs him again, plastering her cheek on his stomach.

His eyes squint slightly as they glisten under the moonlight. He is no stranger to the worst of the world, but it hardly gets any easier. Especially after his promise to his sister: become a man more willing to accept his feelings, don't be afraid to show others how you feel, don't be afraid to cry.

It's backfiring now. Becoming soft. Frail. Emotions don't win you a showdown against a cattle rustler, they don't put food on the table.

Crimson's front solidifies. He can't turn soft. He can't let himself become frail. The more he reflects, the more it's resonating with him... it might not be what Viola wanted of him, but... this isn't home. The winds of regression are his only solace in this foreign land.

He clears his throat to banish the sentimental frog. "-- No one else's come to give you a visit?"

"Uhm... Moonlight! She visit me two times!"

"Sssh, Furi. A little quieter, mm?"

She emits a chirp of regret. "I'm--I'm... sorry."

"Quite alright, darlin'. Just Moonlight?"

"Mhm. And the nurse. The nurse talks to me a lot."

No family, it seems. Crimson bites the inside of his cheek with reservation. "No one else?"

"Noh."

"..."

"... Mama and papa can't visit me."

He bites the inside of his cheek a little too hard.

"... Would they visit me if they could?"

"'Course they would, Furi. Don't be thinkin' stuff like that now, c'mon."

"... Okay. I'll think about... how mama and papa were happy."

"Atta girl. Tell me all about it."

"The farm this year make a lot of wheat and rice. We were going to Appleloosa with big sis to sell it. Papa was really happy, and papa made mama happy. Big sis was happy too. We were going to Appleloosa... but the bad ponies came."

Crimson clenches his teeth together and stays quiet.

"I don't remember a lot. Boom! Boom! It was loud and my ears hurted. Mama and papa told me to hide. Papa even flipped over his wagon to hide me. Papa was very strong."

"Strong and brave."

"Strong AND brave," she echoes. "Papa was never afraid of the bad ponies. And mama too. They told me they loved me... and then I didn't see them anymore. They were fighting the bad ponies... then the yellow pony with the pretty pink eyes saw me."

"Mm," he hums to her in understanding. Must have been once the Elite arrived... just a minute too late. But something clicks with him, a part that doesn't quite fit in the puzzle. "... What happened to your big sis?"

"Mmm..." she reflects briefly. "... She had to go do something. I can't remember."

"Right before you were attacked?" he asks skeptically.

"Mm-mm," she shakes her head against him, making a slight mess of her mane. "A lot before. She didn't get on the wagon with us. A stranger called her so she had to go, she said she was going to meet us at Appleloosa, but we never made it there."

"Does yer sister know where you are now?"

"... Mm-Mm," she shrugs.

Crimson furrows his brows in frustration. Seems like Moonlight didn't do a very good job at getting into contact with Furi's sibling. He sighs through his nose, keeping his gaze towards the night sky past the window. It isn't right that she's still all by her lonesome. "... Maybe I can find 'er for ya'. Gonna do some explorin', maybe I'll run into 'er. What she look like?"

"She's a wing pony like me. Mama always called her 'cuhneeng'. She said it means smart. She's brave, too. Papa always call her brave."

"Wing pony, hm? What about her looks? Somethin' adorable like you? Beautiful silver hair, coat white as snow?" he compliments as he gently strokes her mane along its natural direction.

"Mm-mm," she disagrees dreamily, falling focused to Crimson's caressing. "Black hair. She had black hair. And her coat looks like..." she lulls her eyes towards Crimson's idle hand, ogling the skin on it. She reaches over to take it into her two hooves and holds it closely, marveling at how odd and intricate the human hand is. "... Looks like your coat. This color."

"Tan?"

"Oah, I've heard that word before! Mm, yeah! Tan!"

"Strange. She looks nothin' like you. Black hair with a tan coa--..." Crimson freezes.

Tan coat.

And black hair.

...

"She's not my real sister. But I like to call her that. She's really nice to me and gives me things... but mama and papa said she's not very kind."

"Brave and cunning, but not very nice, huh?"

"Mhm. But she was always kind with me! She made me food once!"

"... W-What was, uh... what was her name?"

"Dahlia. She told me it's a flower!"

...

Crimson feels a dry soreness in his throat, a sahara formed in his mouth.

"If you find her," Furi begins, "t-tell her I lost her tailband... b-but tell her it was an accident! I-I-I didn't mean to lose it!"

"... Yeah," he murmurs as his eyes slowly refocus.

"Please?"

"... I-I will. Heh, I sure will. I'll find her 'n let her know. Promise. Don't you worry none. ... Ain't sleepy yet?"

"... N... Nooo," she says as she grips him tighter, obviously lying. Crimson already knows that she's trying to stay awake so that he stays here with her. He finds it a grey note that she'd assume he'd leave... at least, not tonight.

"Welp," he lifts his chin as he fakes a yawn. "I sure am. Think you can keep me company while I doze off fer the night?"

"Mm!" she nods with enthusiasm.

Crimson lifts her up with both hands as he kicks off his sandals and adjusts himself to rest properly on the bed. He brings her back down on his chest and lets her accommodate herself.

...

And just like he thought, she's out like a light not fifteen minutes after.

And as a matter of fact, he feels himself slipping away just as quick.

‎

~~~~<

‎

Annoying as it may have been, at least it's over. He should have anticipated the Infirmary staff coming in early in the morning to check on Furi, but he didn't. His lack of consideration netted the nurse to bark at him incessantly about how "he shouldn't be wandering around" and "he hasn't fully healed yet." No matter the case, he escaped their clutches by agreeing to a quick check-up to be formally released.

Now arriving back at Swirl's room, he reaches for the door and pushes it in, quickly glancing left and right to check for signs of life. Strix and Bulletpoint are still asleep on the couch, likely going to regret existence once they wake up. Swirl is caught in the kitchen area eating some sort of... something. A boxed breakfast, it seems. Her attention is shot his way when he steps in and shuts the door.

"Mornin'," Crimson waves two fingers.

Swirl doesn't verbally reply since she has food in her mouth but nods. Once she swallows and levitates a napkin to her muzzle she clears her throat. "Would you like some?" She tilts the black plastic bowl his way, displaying its contents.

"'Ts that?"

"Broccoli and cheese casserole."

"Fer breakfast?"

"Would you like some or not?"

"Sure. Thanks."

She nods again with a mouthful and turns to the fridge. She opens the upper door and takes out a box exactly like hers with her magic. She peels off the plastic cover only halfway before she pops it into some sort of oven. She cranks a nob and it makes a noise, followed by a light coming on inside. "It will be ready in a few minutes."

"Appreciate it." He returns his attention to the pair sleeping on top of each other on the couch, manes and tails frazzled. "Don't reckon those two will be up any time soon."

"They sleep through anything. Especially if they are hung over."

"Hmh. Wondering how much they downed. You don't drink?"

"No. Beer is repulsive and that is all they buy."

"Lot more out there than beer. Just about everyone I know can sit through a mixed drink. Wine, maybe. Ask 'em to pick somethin' up more fruity."

"I am not a fan of alcohol."

"Can respect that. Safe to assume you've had a swig?"

"I have, and I still regret it to this day."

"Lemme guess, got shit-faced 'n hated yerself the next mornin'?"

"... Something to that effect."

"Happens to nearly everyone, ain't gotta be embarrassed about it."

"I do not see myself drinking any time soon."

"Hmh. I'll try to hold you to that. Used to have a drinkin' problem myself, kickin' it was rough."

Beeet, beeet, beeet!

Both of them eye the oven as it signals the food is ready. Swirl opens the door but leaves the tray inside, "Let it sit for two minutes. It is too hot to eat right now."

"Okie-doke."

"Bulletpoint also has a drinking problem, but he makes no attempt to better himself. Through his own irresponsibility, he gets my sister to drink too much."

"They ain't gettin' hammered every day now, are they?"

"No, it's always weekends like today. They at least know not to drink while on-duty."

"Wouldn't call what they got a problem, then. Just... not very bright. Speakin' of duty, you ain't got nothin' to do today?"

"I have not had anything to do for weeks. I have no current assignment from the Guard, neither do I a research task from the Consortium. As I told you last night, I am simply waiting."

"Hm. Now I get why you wanted to prod at me so badly. Gettin' borin' around here, ain't it?"

"To put it lightly, yes. Very boring. But this is besides that fact. I do not want to study you simply to pass the time, I am truly curious. The train to Las Pegasus arrives and leaves in..." Swirl glances to the wall clock, reading it to be 7:30, "... an hour. Would you be ready to go with me at that time?"

"Sure thing. Don't got nothin' to pack so I'm ready whenever."

Swirl nods in confirmation. Her horn charges up as she takes the box of food from the oven and a fork from the dishrack. She levitates them over to Crimson, suspending them inches from his chest. He takes them and tugs them lightly out of her aura, causing it to disperse.

"Thankya'."

"You are welcome."

Crimson peels the plastic covering back almost all the way but leaves it attached at the end. He looks down at this meal. Fairly standard broccoli-cheese and breading casserole. Not his first choice of breakfast, but food is food. He raises the fork to jab down and eat.

‎

‎ ‎

~ Equestria, Las Pegasus Junction ~<
February 22nd, Monday, 14:12

‎ ‎

The train ride to Las Pegasus was spent with Swirl dozing in and out of sleep, having Crimson realize that she hardly slept a wink. He supports her sleeping form until they arrive, where she awakes on her own a few minutes before stopping. The man tried to assure her he didn't mind being a pillow, but she apologized anyway.

They ascend to Las Pegasus from the junction using city-funded balloon rides. They make quick pace through the city of marveling ponies that wish for any excuse to halt the exotic human and probe him. The guards patrolling the city recognize Swirl and keep the crowd controlled.

Now ascending up the magic-powered elevator to the summit of the Las Pegasus Research Building, the door pings out their arrival.

Swirl takes the lead in entering the lab with Crimson just behind. A quick glance around tells him that nothing has changed. There does appear to be some sort of cube on the right-most cubical resting on a desk, it vaguely resembles the mini-ANA that Moonlight invented. Probably some sort of 'personal take' by Second-Head Collateral.

To the man's pique, the office is pretty much empty, save for the familiar hoofsteps in the left-most cubical.

Deja-vu sparking, the same Scribe as before peers her head past her cubical at hearing an arrival. Her expression is equally as mesmerized as before. With a ear to ear smile, she gasps, "Do my eyes deceive me?"

"Reckon yer glasses are clean," the man simpers. "Howdy, Lightheart."

"I-It's so good to see you, Crimson!" her cheeks tint lightly. "And you too, Scribe Swirl! What brings the both of you to my faraway lair?"

"Good afternoon, Scribe Lightheart," Swirl states seriously. "Is the microscope currently in use?"

She shakes her head, "No, ma'am! Not that I know of! You two need it for something?"

"Yes, we will be running a few tests with it. We should be finished quickly."

"All yours, take your time!"

"What'cha doin' all alone here anyways?" Crimson inquires breezily.

"Just finishing up my latest project! The other two needed to run a few errands, they didn't say when they'd be back."

"Righty'o. Thanks, Lightheart."

"Of course! I'll be in my cubical if you two need anything!" Her eyes track Crimson as she turns to walk to her cubical. A spark of something certainly remains in them.

Crimson returns his attention to Swirl who already makes pace towards the middle cubical at the far end of the lab. He follows behind her and stops at the desk, leaning his left thigh on it as he peers out of the windows. He watches the world move about below while Swirl accommodates some items across the table.

She acquires a clipboard and pins a paper on it while wetting a quill with ink. She scribbles a list with empty rectangular boxes at the end of each point. "I have formulated a number of simple tests." She attracts Crimson's attention, but keeps focused on writing. "None difficult but require your cooperation."

"'Course. We gettin' started?"

"Yes. The first test is that of your blood. I would like to examine it first and foremost. Do needles frighten you?"

"To death."

She glares at him with a severe lack of enthusiasm. Her magic channels to levitate a small metal syringe from the table. "Extend your arm please." He does as she asks and presents it. The syringe levitates over to pierce his forearm right into a vein, where her magic pulls the plunger up to suck out his life essence. Once filled, she extracts it with grace.

Her attention is drawn to his forearm, which would normally be bleeding slightly, even lifting over a cloth to pat him down. The red dot on his arm drips no blood.

"Somethin' the matter?" Crimson asks.

"... Nothing." She turns towards the large mass of technology on the table, a very early-model microscope. She takes a small, clear plastic tray and dots on some of Crimson's blood from the syringe. After tilting the tray several directions to get the blood to spread a little, she places it under the guise of the microscope. She looms into the goggles and scrutinizes what she sees. "At this time, I will be studying your..." She reels back and gasps, as if something startled her.

Crimson raises a brow at her, curious of her reaction. She snaps her gaze over to him as if it was his fault.

"Now I know somethin's the matter. Spill it."

"... Your blood cells..."

As Swirl is having a little bit of trouble speaking her mind, Crimson halts her. "Save the words, let me take a gander instead."

She steps aside for him. Crimson scooches and practically has to squat down to look into the goggles. His vision blurs at the lens focusing until they present the situation crystal clear.

"Hwooh..." Crimson muses as he gazes at his own lifeline. The red blood cells dying on the clear tray are... glowing almost. The tiny pool of red has glittering golden light all about it. He hears a click come from the microscope and his vision distorts again.

"I am enhancing the microscope," Swirl explains. "You should be able to get a closer look... and please describe what you see."

Crimson's hazel orbs marvel at what is inside of him. The precision of the microscope is bearing witness to what appears to be small golden molecules which dance inside each cell."... M-... My Arch. I'm... lookin' at it. Looks... almost looks like it's got a mind of its own. Just movin'. Dancin', even. Goin' around like it's havin' a hoedown."

"Golden micro-molecules imbued inside every blood cell in your body. Your... Arch."

"Yeah..."

Swirl uncomfortably fidgets in place, watching Crimson as he gawks into the microscope... waiting... waiting. He's not mentioning it. "Crimson..."

"Mm?"

"... By chance, is your blood..." she trails off as she musters the courage to actually say it. "... Is your blood speaking to you?" The man lifts his eyes from the microscope with furrowed brows. "Y-Yes, I know, what I just said sounds completely absurd, but I am telling the truth!" Crimson looks far from trusting. "I am! I, uhm... the voice. The one which spoke to me. It sounded very much like you."

"Can't lie to you, Swirl, that's easily one'a the weirdest things anyone's ever told me."

"Please," she calls for his silence. "I am trying to explain. ... Here, excuse me," she demands commandeering of the microscope. Crimson sidesteps and allows her the reins. She peers into it again. "... T-There. There it... there it is again. Your voice. You're whispering to me, but I do not... hear it. N-- I-- No, I hear it, yes, but... not with my ears." Her ears fall flat on her head. "But instead in my head. My mind."

"What's the voice sayin'?"

"Oh! Brilliant suggestion. I-I will try to repeat what it is sayin'--" she shakes her head, "SAYING. What it is saying."

Crimson brings his knuckle under his nose, stifling a chuckle at her unsuspected country-ism. Swirl sharply turns to stare daggers. "Go right ahead," he insists with a grin.

She fixates her attention back to the microscope. "... It is saying... uhm." She squints her eyes, honing in on the voice murmuring to her. "Listening... to you speak. Your voice... calms me. Keep..." she furrows her brows, trying to recant after it. "Keep focused. Focus on it."

Crimson's smile falters at listening to her echo the voice. There's a feeling growing inside him that... --

Swirl backs away from the microscope to stare into the void. Equally, Crimson gawks at her without saying a word.

A mindless silence progresses for a few seconds before Swirl shakes her head. "Yes, uhm, this is highly unusual, but we must continue. This will be regarded at a later date. There are still several tasks needing to be completed."

"... Right."

Swirl levitates the clipboard over and focuses a little too intently on it, trying to block out what she just experienced for the sake of the experiment. "Next... next we shall test your reaction to external stimuli."

"Not sure what that means."

"How you react to things happening to you. I will perform four different tests on you and gauge your reaction based on each event."

"Simple enough."

"I only need your consent that you agree to every test I shall perform."

"Not against progress."

"Good. Then you consent."

"Well, sure. Though you haven't explained what exactly yer gonna do."

"Telling you would defeat the purpose. But be assured that these tests are well within the assumed boundaries of your apparent physical and mental maximum."

"... Uuuh..."

"Do you consent or not?"

"Alright, yeah, whatever. Do yer tests."

Swirl nods once and quickly writes something down onto her clipboard. She glances towards Crimson and locks eyes with him. Naturally, he stares back.

Slight discomfort stakes him after she keeps staring. He eyes her back silently, assuming this might be one of the tests.

"I will begin your tests with an unpleasant physical reaction," she states seriously.

"Nevermind."

Swirl proceeds to lift her hoof and hit Crimson's thigh with visible effort, to which his brows raise in confusion. The punch didn't hurt him in the slightest but certainly caught him off-guard. And after a moment staring at each other, the unicorn scribbles into the clipboard. "Please level your head with mine."

With the same dubious front, Crimson obeys her order and crouches down to meet her at eye-level. She takes a step closer to him and leans in, her lips near his left ear. "Left," she whispers quietly, with the warmth of her breath to tingle his lobe. She then pulls away to reenact the process into his other ear, "Right."

Crimson's shoulder blades tense together slightly at the unexpected stimuli. He again gawks at the mare as she pulls away and analyzes his reaction, thereafter scratching the quill against parchment. Then, she brings over a flask of some sort of thick, goopy blue liquid and offers him to drink it.

He eyes it with great displeasure, but putting faith in her that it won't kill him, he takes it from her magic and takes a sip. It feels even worse now that it's in his mouth, as if it were latching onto the insides and hanging on for dear life. And it's sour. Very, very, sour. Like if lemon was a chemical compound turned into watery gelatin.

He forces it down with a mighty gulp and his nose scrunches. Swirl takes the flask back and sets it down on the table.

"Well done. Lastly, smell this," she orders while lifting a small orange packet of... something, to Crimson's nose. The packet itself is just a square cloth, but something inside emanates a strange smell. It is not unpleasant, but it's difficult to describe. Like if he was smelling... someone. A body odor of some kind that isn't exactly bad or good. "Do you enjoy this scent?"

"Don't hate it."

Swirl nods and notates her clipboard. "Next. Provide answers to the following questions." Crimson simply nods, expression still fixed. "What is your favorite color?"

"Grey."

"What is your favorite food?"

"Mmm... turkey and mashed potatoes."

"What is your favorite drink?"

"If it's draft beer, it's down the hatch."

"What is your favorite pass time?"

"Shootin' my revolver. Bottles, posts, coyotes, you name it."

"What is your favorite time of day?"

"Evenin', when the sky's orange."

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

"..." Crimson's growing smile drops instantly. "... Little dark, ain't it?"

"Answer the question."

"Yeah."

"Can you recall the names of those you have killed?"

"Not all of 'em."

"Can you count the number of lives you have taken?"

"No."

"When was the last time you took a life?"

"... 'Bout... a month ago. Had to kill a dragon. Didn't really have a choice in the matter."

"What were you thinking about when you took their life?"

"Protect Moonlight."

Swirl continues to scribble quickly as her questions come with little spacing between them. "Would you kill again?"

"Probably."

"Do you ever dream of faces from those you have killed?"

"... Not anymore."

Swirl affirms a nod as she jots down some last bits of information. "Now I will give you a few scenarios. Please give me your best course of action for each, as well as your reasoning."

"'Kay."

"Think of your most treasured possession. The thing you love most. Do not tell me what or who, keep that to yourself. Suddenly, it is being taken away by someone far stronger than you. You cannot barter with them, you cannot defeat them in battle. What do you do?"

"... Die trying to get them back."

"Say now you gain the ability to retain your most treasured possession. In exchange, you must sacrifice your second most treasured possession. Do you do it?"

"... I..." the man's brows furrow at the top of his eyes. "... 'Mean, I'd..." Swirl admires his internal toil, letting him decide uninterrupted. Eventually, he greets his indecision. "... Can we, uh... can we skip this one? Kinda need'a think on it more."

"Very well. Next. Think now on your life. Think on the many events you have lived through. If you could erase one decision you made, what would it be?"

"... Never would'a left."

Swirl lifts her left brow, giving him the air to elaborate.

"... Home. When my ma' passed away, I got... I got very upset. 'Bout a bunch'a stuff. Had to take my anger out on somethin' I didn't care about. Just started... hittin' things. Destroyin' things, private property. Drinkin' too much... just... gettin' into trouble, really. My ruckus drew some unwanted attention, 'n, well... got picked up by the worst group of individuals on the face of the earth... rest is history. If I just stayed home that day..."

"And lastly, image a great friend. Someone you know and love who is not related to you. If you were to leave them, and both of you knew it was the last time you would see each other, what would you tell them?"

"Tell 'em..." Crimson trails off for a moment, envisaging the scenario more than he probably should. "... tell 'em everything's gonna be alright. And I'll always be with 'em... even in spirit."

Swirl notates the clipboard and turns away from him, keeping eyes on everything she has written. "Did you come up with an answer to the question you skipped?"

"... Haven't. Sorry."

"Choosing not to answer is still technically an answer. I will use that as your decision. I appreciate your cooperation, Crimson. This concludes the tests. I will return to you with the results soon. I cannot give you an estimated timeframe right now, but rest assured that you will be informed of my findings."

"Gotcha."

"Now. Go speak to Scribe Lightheart."

"Hm?"

"What you told me last night; your endeavor involving the humans of Equestria. Consider it a coincidence, but it just so happens that she is very knowledgeable on the subject, so if you have any questions or concerns..."

Like a match striking fire, what initially sounded like a demand for him to leave her alone sets in. "Super. Thanks, Swirl." She simply nods in response, still looking over the clipboard.

Sliding his hands into his pockets, he takes a few steps backwards from Swirl, still eyeing her through drooping eyes. He makes an idle stare for a second or two before turning himself around to mosey towards Lightheart's cubical. As he appears into view, the purple scribe immediately turns her eyes his way but continues holding an electrical apparatus in her magic.

"Howdy, ma'am."

"Hey there! What can I do my favorite man for?"

"Well now, ain't that the compliment."

"Doesn't stop it from being true! How can I help?"

"Actually relates to that very thing."

"My favorite man?"

"Close. Humans. The lot of 'em."

Lightheart sets the circuit board she was holding down, giving Crimson her full attention. "Oh? Um... of course. I'd be glad to help. I'm well informed in the subject! It's actually my secondary specialty aside from electrical engineering."

"Stellar. Just wanna ask you a few bullets so I can get a good scope'a things here in Equestria. Ain't versed on 'em even though we've got the same label."

"Wow, that's something for the books. The first sapient human in Equestrian history is not familiar with his own kind! But, that is to say you have never had an interaction with them, right?"

"Ah, nah, I have. A handful."

"Ooo! Could you recant them for me? At the very least your most memorable interaction?"

"Most memorable... mm... yeah. Got attacked by 'em. Tooth 'n nail. Bit me and scratched me to hell."

Lightheart's smile hits the ground hastily. She adjusts her glasses and purses her lips. "That is not at all how I'd hoped. I am very sorry for having asked."

"It's alright, Lightheart. Don't bother me in the slightest, not you nor them. Actually, them attackin' me is why I've been so interested in 'em."

"You enjoy pain?"

"Not what I meant. Curious as to why they are like they are."

"Oh! Oh. Ehehe... v-very sorry. W-Well, like I said, I'm happy to answer any questions you may have!"

"Right, so..." he takes a pinching hold to his chin and mulls, "... guess, the first one'd have to be: why're humans stupid here?"

The question quickly throws Lightheart into a mental limbo, her eyes tell that she is looking for a good way to answer. "... Stupid..."

"Excuse the term. Just a layman in sayin' they ain't exactly at-par with our functionality."

His reiteration breathes comfort into the scribe. "Ah, right! I really should have caught on to that. Yes! They are not stupid. In fact, they are the most intelligent life-form outside we sapient types across all of Equus. They adapt to their environments very well, their sense of direction is astute, and their methods of communication are very intricate! Most of all, especially to the intrigue of we ponies, they can be trained like many other animals cannot!"

"Like... use tools?"

"Hoh! Precisely! Wow, amazing! How did you know that? Only a select few scholars know!"

"... Call it a lucky guess. Wouldn't be hard to assume," he says as he lifts his hand and twiddles his fingers.

"A guess worthy of your intellect, Crimson! They can use tools. They are also the most willing of any house pet to wear clothes. While other animals can be clothed, and they may not fight it, humans are some of the only species to actually enjoy it!"

"Hmh. Can tell you first hand that clothes are apart of the shtick. We need 'em."

"Oh, of course! With no innate protection from the elements, it's no wonder!"

"Yeah, you get it. Heh. Right, so, next question. A few of the humans I've seen had, uh... interesting skin colors. What's goin' on there?"

"With the skin colors?"

Crimson nods, "Purple, blue, pink, yellow, orange. Name the color, they had it. All I'm used to is tan and the varying saturations."

"How interesting. I'm on the reverse of the coin. Tan is a fairly rare color in humans. They usually vary in the colors you just mentioned."

"So them bein' colored like this is... normal?"

"It is!"

"And them bein' like... five-foot in height. Just over a meter tall and a half. That's..."

"Also normal? Yes! The tallest human currently recorded is--"

"Five feet, five inches," they both finish simultaneously.

Lightheart gasps with a hoof to her cheek. "Hahawow! Another amazing piece of information you already know! I beginning to think I should ask YOU for answers!"

Crimson waves his hand in easy disagreement, "Nah, certain you've got me beat. Just know a few tid-bits is all. Now, this brings me to my last question, and one I wouldn't blame you fer not havin' an answer to."

"I'll do my best! Ask away!"

"What's the origin of Equestria's humans?"

...

Lightheart's ears perk up. Her expression immediately sours.

"... Didn't think so."

"I'm very sorry. N-Not even the Royal Archives have that sort of information. We simply don't know."

"Reckoned. No worries, Lightheart. Guess, uh... replace that last question with this one: You happen to know where I can find some humans that won't attack me? Ones I can... I'unno, watch? Be around?"

"..." Lightheart's brows line the top of her eyes in critical contemplation. "... Weeell... mmm..."

"What about them human cattle things Celestia does? No chance I could interact with one there?"

"Oh, no, those humans aren't docile. They arrive under the effects of a tranquilizing compound that pacifies them. The magic in that tranquilizer is what has them obey orders to move, bow, etcetera. Those humans are usually tested on briefly for potential taming, but most are released back into the wild."

Crimson squints his eyes in distaste. "No dice then. Hmh. Don't suppose you might know of a place?"

"I... uh... I do. I have a source."

The man lights with a beam. "Well that's fantastic."

"Y-Yes, it would be, but... I-I need you to understand something about this... s-source of mine." Crimson shifts to caution at Lightheart's own. "I'll begin with a disclaimer that she is in no way an official affiliate to anything related to Canterlot and Equestria's Consortium. Her business and mine are completely separate. Her and I are only... friends. We've known each other since we were fillies, but we took very different paths in life. Y-You can say she is a little... ehehe... coo-coo in the coconut," she says as she twirls her hoof near her ear. "B-But she is actually much more informed about humans than I am! Possibly more than what can be found in our archives! Also, she has her own human. I'm not sure where she got it, but she has one."

"Crazy I can handle, yer source won't be a problem as long as I can study that there human."

"A-Again, disclaimer! I wouldn't recommend her. She might be a little more than just... 'crazy.' I-Insane, maybe! Obsessed with humans, really. I-If a pony would be requesting the same of her as you are, then maybe you could perform the research you desire, but since you're a human yourself, she... might be a hassle to deal with. I don't think she would even let you get anything done. She'd never leave you alone!"

"Hm... soundin' like a bit more than I'd like to chew... but even then, this is the only lead I've got right now. I could spend hours, days, weeks even, tryin'a get my own lead, but I'd rather take a chance on this first. If it don't work out, then I'll pathfind on my own."

"You're very right about that: it would take a long time to find another pacified human to interact with. Humans are a very sensitive topic to ponykind, you won't find many open enthusiasts. We have over-glorified events like fashion shows and stage plays featuring humans, where they are tamed in abundance, but good luck trying to get close to them. Any pony who owns a human is always uptight and protective. To make matters worse, the laws of Canterlot and every other major city punish dearly if you dare interfere with another pony's human. Even walking up to them and saying 'hi' could warrant a fine the cost of a house!"

Crimson squints in thought, recalling that he himself was found those very shoes. Or sandals. He comes to assume that the frontier-type environment that is a place like Dodge is vastly different politically and socially than the major cities. Even if he is wrong about this, at least the individuals that abetted in his favor weren't fined for all that they owned on that day.

The man takes a breath in and lets it out slowly. "So... where can I find this source'a yers?"

Act 8: Thus Begins a Descent to Darkness

~ Canterlot Castle, the Treasury ~<
February 23rd, Tuesday, 9:42

‎

"Like to make a withdrawal."

The deep southern voice wakes the nearly dozed bank teller. She blinks her eyes and lifts her chin from her hoof to glance up at Crimson. Immediately, her front brightens with shock. "Ah-eeh?"

"A withdrawal, if you don't mind," the man repeats.

The Castle Treasury's teller scampers and stutters as she tries to get the proper papers in front of her. "I-I'm very sorry, I-I-- we can-- ..." She halts herself to regain her composure, clearing her throat and delivering a toothy smile. "Why of course, dear angel! Your account currently holds..." she shuffles through her documents briefly, "six-thousand four-hundred and fifty bits!"

"How much does a plate of food typically go for?" She tucks her chin in reservation. "Food. 'Bout how much does a plate go for."

"Oh! Why, it depends, my angel. Some places around Canterlot will have you paying forty bits a plate."

"Assume I ain't splurgin'. Average meal."

"Average. ... My best guess would be around six to twelve bits."

"Gotcha. I'll take out seven hundred." Her eyes widen at the quantity. "Not all fer food, mind you."

The false congruency visibly registers. "Oho! Of course! Right away. Would you like a coin purse or do you have your own?"

"If you've got one, I'll take it."

"Unfortunately it is ten bits. Is that okay?"

"Ain't a bother."

She nods happily. "Today's withdrawal will be seven-hundred and ten bits. Is that correct?"

"Yuppers."

The mare hums her glee and hops off her chair. She moves past the cement and marble walls towards an unseen end of her office. Crimson idles for a moment, glancing at his back to note the two guards protecting him from the onlooking ponies. None of them actually want to use the Treasury, only waiting for an opportunity to strike the all-too suspecting human with their fantasies.

"Here you are! The strap is for your belt!"

Crimson returns his stare to the teller, watching as a dark grey leather clip purse with gold accents levitates his way in her cyan aura. It's nice and fat with golden coins, looks a little heavy, but is rather high quality. Won't be bursting on him any time soon. It indeed comes with a short strap with a clip of its own that would go great around his belt loop. Sadly for him, his sweat pants don't actually have loops. He takes it from her hold and shoves it in his pocket instead.

"If you could just sign right here," she hums while sliding a piece of paper towards him along with a quill. Crimson does as she asks and leans over to take the plume and sign his name. Once the teller takes it back and looks at it, her brows furrow at seeing an alien language.

"Appreciate yer help."

Her smile curls at the corners. "You are certainly welcome, my angel~"

He nods and trails off with the protection of the guards to the Canterlot train station.

‎

~~~<

‎

Having caught an early train for an uncanny destination, he rides completely alone.

After he and Swirl made it back to Canterlot, the first thing he did was get some rest. The drunken duo definitely needed time to sober up, they hardly moved around the room. Their lack of energy made it easy for him to crash out in Swirl's living room soon after returning from Las Pegasus. At some point through out the night, both Strix and Bulletpoint plopped themselves on top of him to share the couch, causing what Swirl described as 'a comical pile-up'. In truth, it helped him sleep better.

Now rested and prepared for whatever the future holds, he travels towards his destination. He leans his head against the glass, watching the surrounding environment change from Canterlot's marble structure, to grassy plains, to hills of green and dirt, and finally, to the mountainous regions of north-west Equestria. Clouds have formed in the skies above, giving the ambiance a comfortable grey-ish hue. He only removes his gaze from the outside world when the car attendant asks him if he'd like anything.

The ride is peaceful throughout the duration, allowing him to keep to his thoughts. He first calls back to Swirl's little 'test'. The ideas behind her peculiar assessments didn't leave a clear impression on him, he isn't sure what exactly she was looking for. Whatever it is, he's confident in her ability to clearly explain things once the time comes.

Other than the results of said test, his track wanders back to his sister. Last night, before allowing himself to fall into deep sleep, he ventured into his Rift if only to catch up with Viola. She wasn't there.

He had plenty of time to be with her during his coma, but even so, not seeing her this one time is paining him greatly. He explained to her what was going on, what he had been through during his time out. She detested all of it. All of the harm coming his way she could hardly stand, but the piece de resistance was his reseeded apathy. The one thing she didn't want him to reattain.

Crimson did his best to assure her it was controlled and only temporary until the plagues of Equestria were dealt with, but of course, she didn't believe him. He couldn't blame her either, she has already witnessed him at his lowest. A sludge pit of disassociation that seemed impossible to claw out of, but she helped him out of it. She singlehandedly aided him back to a respectable mental state, one that allowed him to feel... normal again. Or, as normal as a man like him could be.

Crimson couldn't be sure if he'd fall back to such a low without Viola around, but as he repeated like a mantra, he can't succumb to weakness, to be burdened with his own problems. He needs to foist the toils of the world on his shoulders before his own, just as he knows he should. After all of this was spoken, Viola has not returned to his Rift.

"A glass of wine?"

The man directs his voice to the attendant, seeing the stallion there giving him a faint smile. Just then, Crimson realizes that his posture is stiff. He allows his body to relax and slumps back into the seat. "I'm good."

"Don't be shy now."

"Hmh, certainly ain't that."

"A sip would do nothing but favors. Need I tell you, you look tense?"

"Goes without sayin'."

"Seeing as there are no other clients around and our 'vent'ry is full this early... a bottle could go missing without anyone's knowledge."

"Couldn't thief you out."

"Nonsense, my angel. You board this train fairly regularly. Consider it... a favor for a familiar face."

Crimson sits up and inhales, giving the attendant a wry smirk. "You coaxed me into it."

"Splendid~ Cold or at-room?"

"Cold, please."

He nods with his same smile, turning promptly towards the far end of the cart. He disappears for a while, then to return with a chilled bottle of strawberry wine. "A glass?"

"Nah, just take the bottle."

The attendant gives a chuckle at his barbaric choice of consumption. He levitates a corkscrew out of his side pocket and caps off the bottle with a satisfying pop. A gentle ooze of cold air emanates from the neck before it is given over to its new master.

Crimson grips and tilts it for a cheer. "You're number one, Monty."

The attendant bows, "if there would be anything else, do ring your bell."

This final exchange of words marks the rest of the trail towards the mountain region of Whinneypeg. The less rigid Crimson is left alone with his thoughts and his bottle.

‎

‎

‎

~ Equestria, the Whinneypeg Mountains ~<
February 23rd, Tuesday, 16:19

‎

The man shivers slightly at the cold breeze of mountain winds rushing against his body. His sandals crunch moist dirt under, leaves blow past him as he walks. The clinking of his coin purse jingles in his pocket. He keeps his eyes lowered down to a makeshift map drawn on a sticky note, one that Lightheart made for him before departing Las Pegasus.

After coming off the train, he has followed this map across unmarked paths with little means of guidance. Most of the trail is walking up rock and dirt mountain, it hardly seems like any place that one would find someone living. Add Lightheart's skepticism to the mix, this little social visit is definitely stacking up against him in more than one way. Nevertheless, he combines his movement with quick glances to and from the map to make sure he arrives.

Being that this is the first time he is exploring Equestria all alone, he feels a subconscious nudge to be more careful than usual. Be it a random attack or some environmental haphazard like an anomaly, he knows to be ready for anything. He takes a glance backwards, getting a rather nice view of Equestria's plains due to the increasing elevation. He even sees Canterlot from here, unmistakable upon its throne of protruding earth.

He persists on his path. As he treks along, he feels something cool drip onto his shoulder. He doesn't need to glance at it to know it's the commencing of rainfall. Where ever this source of Lightheart's is, he needs to find them soon. He picks up the pace to a brisk jog, taking a rhythm to his breathing as he runs uphill.

Dirt, rocks, few and far between trees, but still no sign of a house. Though his pace doesn't waver as he notes an unnatural plateau coming up soon. It melds well with the environment, one wouldn't notice it if they were simply traveling along a lower point of the mountain.

The more he rises, the more obvious it becomes. Trees come into view, they surround this plateau like a fence of vegetation. Soon enough, he sees it clearly under the clouded sky. A log cabin surrounded by trees and shrubs just before a cliff edge. Along with the encompassing trees, an actual wooden fence is propped around the property. Just before the cabin, all sorts of vegetables are growing in tended ground, and the trees around the property appear to be fruit-bearers. A very self-sustaining home, he sighs in relief to having found it. And not a moment too soon, the rain has started to pick up. Already assuming they'd be kind enough to let him in, he doesn't want to track rain and mud into their abode.

Interestingly enough, there is no type of gate or fence to actually get into the property. Looks like he needs to hop over the fence, and he does just that. With so many trees surrounding the area, it hardly needs a porch. The rain ceases to hit him once inside the property thanks to the canopy of leaves above. Being careful to take note of the crops, he walks along the perimeter to avoid stepping on them.

Approaching now the cabin, he regards the windows. All of them have blinds over them, thick black curtains which do not allow vision in or out. The sketchiness of the situation is increasing drastically, and despite Lightheart's warnings, he stands at the door. Too late for regrets now, it's time to meet this hopefully interesting personality. The man wipes the rainwater from his face and reaches his left knuckles to knock on the solid wood.

Knock-knock-knock-knock

...

Nothing. He waits a few seconds before attempting again.

Knock... knock-knock-knock-knock

...

"...!?" Crimson darts his attention towards the window to his left. The curtain moved but he was far too slow to catch glimpse of whatever it was. Maybe it was the cabin's owner. This type might be very introverted. He'll need to speak up so they can understand his intentions and hopefully believe him. He clears his throat and fronts the friendliest voice he can muster. "Pardon the intrusion. Know a friend of yers by the name of Lightheart Trot. Told me you'd be here. I just had a few questions 'n was wonderin' if you could--" He now hears shuffling from the other side of the door. A lock is undone. And another. Another.

A silence passes after the locks are undone. The door clicks, it pries open very slightly... a dilated amber eye stares back at him through the crack. It trembles unsteadily.

The door opens in an instant, the earth mare who presents herself dawns a cheek-tearing smile, both of her pupils nearly expand to fill her eye sockets. Her mane is a light brown styled as pigtails, and her coat is a similar amber-red as her eyes.

"Howdy, ma'am. Name's--"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Crimson jumps back at her scream. "No. WAY! Nowaynowaynowaynoway!"

"Uuh..."

"Crimson! It's really you! YOU! Are HERE!" she barks ecstatically. Her voice is high-pitched and very girly. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The man recoils, both a her knowing of his name and the volume at which she speaks. He was ready for something weird... just... not this weird. Or loud. "... Ehe, yeah. Sorry to bother you, was hopin' you'd be able to entertain a curiosity of mine."

"Ahahahyeahyeahyeah! Anything! Anything at all! My names-- hehehe-- my name's Lippy! Lippy Snare! Come in, come in!" She speaks so fast that most of her words blend into one sound.

"... Appreciate it." Crimson puts up a wry smile to stave off his concern. The autumn-colored mare walks backwards to allow him entry and keep her eyes plastered on him at all times. The man steps in and closes the door, glancing around slyly to take in everything without rudely staring.

The first room of the cabin is a small dining area with four chairs and one round table in the middle. The room to the left is a standard low-tech kitchen and the room to the right is a cozy little living room with a stone chimney that burns wood. Opting to stay right near the door, he can't look into the kitchen or the living room completely. If any human is nearby, he can't see them. Still, nothing too out of the ordinary so far.

The home is lit with candles which are scattered in a stylistic fashion to balance symmetry and light. The walls are adorned with all sorts of memorabilia, paintings, pots, flowers, and articles of clothes like hats and shirts with Ponish text. Oddly enough, a lot of the clothes presented are for humans.

It becomes difficult to take in the environment with two unstable orbs piercing him. She has also started to hyperventilate. "So, uuh..." Crimson begins while scratching the back of his head, "like I was sayin'. I was wonderin' if you'd be able to let me in on a little curiosity."

"Aaaanyythiiiing~"

"..." He holds the back of his neck and purses his lips. "... Just, eh... a friend of yours. Lightheart Trot."

"Yeahyeah! Know her! Old friend, we go way back!"

"She told me that you, uh... owned a human?"

"Hoho! I sure do! She's in her room right now. Why? You wanna see her? Huh? Do ya'?"

"If it ain't a bother, sure. Prolly already guessed but I'm hopin' to get a better understandin' of 'em. Hear that you're real knowledgeable on the subject."

"Huhuuu! I sure, sure am! Very, very knowledgeable! I love humans! Love them! Studied them all my life! Heha! But shh! She's asleeeeep," she coos in a whisper, looming closer to Crimson. "She gets her beauty sleep early in the morning!" she barks just as loud as before, throwing her respectful caution out the window.

"Ah. Well, it'd do no good if I bothered her while she was nappin'."

"Hahayeah! She gets mad when you do that! -- Ghy-jhyo, come now, love! Don't stand so close to the door! Come in, come in!" She motions with her hoof. "My house-- hmhm-- is your house~"

"... Yeah. Pardon," he excuses himself with a bit of hesitation. Being called 'love' was not something he was expecting to hear. He'd be used to a cute nick like that seeing that it's a frequently Annabelle-type back home... but he safely assumes it was used literally.

He takes a few steps into the dining area, closer to Lippy. The further he walks in, the more of the kitchen and living room is exposed. Nothing of note in the kitchen, looks recently used. He scopes the living room briefly. His eyes are drawn to a proudly presented set of clothing in the far corner of her living room... almost looks like...

"..." Crimson's pupils shrink to grains of sand. "... What in the sam-hell!?"

"Hihihihii~" She laughs like a little school-filly, knowing exactly what he's looking at. There, on a t-stand post inside a box of glass with a light to shine on it, his original clothes are on display. The outfit he had when first waking up in Equestria, with the stitches that Viola had sown, the one that was sold off. It is presented like game.

"My clothes..."

Sniiiif! He recoils at hearing the insane pony waft his leg. "Oooo... you smell even better than I imagined~" Crimson presses his eyes at her. She trepidly giggles and twiddles one of her pigtails, before immediately dropping the shy act and moving close to him. She leaps up and places her hooves at his stomach, grinning wickedly. "You know... I loved you BEFORE everyone knew you were an angel~"

The man's brows profoundly furrow and his hands clench.

Lippy's smile slams into the ground, now looking utterly mortified. She catches his expression instantaneously, analyzing his eyebrows, the darting stare of his eyes, the lining of his lips, his clenched fists. The expression of an aggravated human. She comes off of him and steps backwards. "... You aren't mad, are you? You look angry. What's wrong?"

Crimson grits his teeth trying to hold his frustration in. "... I'd like my clothes back."

"But I bought them! I bought them fair and square! Two-thousand bits!"

The man nearly trips at hearing the amount a certain tomb raider got for his garbs. Still, he firmly shakes his head. "They weren't up for sale in the first place, they were taken from me. I could compensate you fer the cost, but I want my clothes back."

"B-But--! No! Nonono! They're mine now!" She backpedals again, her flank bumping a cabinet near the kitchen.

"It ain't up for debate," Crimson steps closer to her.

"But that's not fair!"

"Lots'a things in life ain't. Gotta deal with them as they come. Looks like it's yer turn right now."

"I can't give them up! They mean so much to me! YOU mean so much to me!"

"You hardly fuckin' know me. Don't know how much stalkin' you've done, but you'd be hard-pressed to know I won't let you have what's mine. Like I said, I'll get you yer money back. I want my damn clothes."

Lippy shakes her head and squeals dismally, appearing as if she might cry at any moment. "No!"

"Gonna run a fist through the glass display."

"Eek! Don't! No!"

Crimson raises his fist and begins to turn.

"WAIT!" Crimson does as she says and gawks at her. Lippy sinks, legs quivering like wet noodles. "... Okay... look, here. I-I have the key to open the glass case in this drawer, so you don't have to break it... I-I'll... give it to you." She rubs her foreleg with a pout, staring wobbly eyes to the ground.

Crimson sighs out some irritation enough to calm him down. He tries to be a little more patient due to her surrendering posture. "Thanks. Even though I hate to do this to you, you gotta understand where I'm comin' from. My clothes were taken from me and sold without my say-so."

"Oh, yes, I understand! Completely! S-So let me do the right thing and return them to you... I'm sorry." She turns around and skulks through the drawer.

"Forgive and forget," Crimson walks towards her again. "I'll get you yer money back."

"Mh... key's gotta be in here somewhere," she says as she shuffles some metallic-sounding objects around. "Is a piece of your outfit missing?"

Crimson turns his head to glance back at his clothes. He scans it from top to bottom. "Nope, everything seems--" Sprit! "--GHK!"

"Hah!" The conniving mare leaped up to blindside him as he returned his face forward. A puff of purple mist is shot through a small black spray bottle right into his front.

"Grk-- Mhrph, fk!" He claws at his face in reaction to the spited mist. It travels into his nostrils, he can feel it tingling his sinuses with the power of distortion. He enters a violent cough in protest to the wrenching substance.

It's all tilting sideways, his body feels heavy, his mind is fogging faster than it had before. He blinks unevenly. He falls onto his knees while his upper half hangs towards the left. He hits the ground with his shoulder, stargazing at the mare who leans down closer to him.

"Mmm-hmhmhmm, how'd I get so lucky~" she heatedly coos.

Her lips pucker as she looms in for a kiss. He closes his burning eyes and succumbs to the darkness, just in time to fade out her advance...

‎

~~~<

‎

...

"Mmh... nh..."

His senses pool back into his body. His hearing emerges from a metaphorical water, his pupils capture the red light of his eyelids... and a terribly sour taste fills his mouth. The groggy mess that is his consciousness hardly recalls falling asleep. He can't remember what he was doing before knocking out.

Wherever he is, it's fairly comfortable. He lays on something soft and warm with an equally pleasant blanket to cover him. He wants to open his eyes, but it's a chore. Deciding to keep them closed for a moment longer, he opts to listen. Maybe he'll hear Swirl say something or Bulletpoint stammer around.

...

Great, there's a slight itch on his neck. Looks like he's forced to exert himself in order to scratch it and feel comfortable again. With slight protest, he moves his hand from under the sheets to scratch it.

Scratch, scratch... scratch, scratch, scratch

"Hnh," he grunts in annoyance at missing the itch. He tries scratching it again to no avail, serving to upset him further. "Mrrh... fhn!" He finally sits up and pries his eyelids apart and tries to scratch the impervious itch, only to find himself clawing at a brown leather collar with metal decals. Said collar is chained to the bed frame, allowing him maybe a few feet of wandering room.

His eyes dilate in unbelief. The temperature in his body skyrockets as he realizes where he is, but even though he wants to pique his anger, the lingering sedative in his body is preventing him from acting out in any way.

He throws his wary stare everywhere to analyze the bedroom he is in. It is decorated in the same fashion as the rest of the cabin. The light sources in the room spawn from a few lit candles, where all sunlight is blocked out by the thick black curtains over the room's two windows. Not that he assumes it's daytime, he has not the slightest idea how long he was out.

He looks down at himself next. He's grateful that he's still clothed, but this blasted constraint around his neck doesn't seem like it'll be easy to get off. He puts his weak, wobbly hands on it, feeling around. His fingers touch something protruding at the back, metal and cold, in the shape of... a keyhole?

His focus is flung towards the door as it clicks open. A certain mentally unstable being snakes in, but freezes once she notes she's being stared at. The man's brows furrow and his eyes squint. "Yoouu," Crimson slurs. Her expression morphs into a wicked smile.

The man holds his temple, suddenly becoming lightheaded. The more he attempts to be pissed, the dizzier he gets. He hangs his head and rubs his eyes, listening to the mare complete her entrance. She approaches him step by step, hooves lightly tapping the wooden flooring.

"Awake already? Perfect timing! How is my precious little boy doing?" Lippy yaws her head to the left with her ear-to-ear beam.

"... Fu'kyu..."

"Haaw! You're so cute when you're all loopy!" She moves to wipe off a trickle of drool from the side of his mouth using her free hoof. "I really am going to miss this part... but! Can't have you stargazing forever!" She then presents something in her other hoof, a tea cup with some sort of green liquid inside of it.

"Wass...?" he asks with a squint to the drink.

"Just a special little secret tea I made, just for you~ It'll kill the tranquilizing potions effects in a jiffy! You'll feel SO much better!"

"... Gimme." He reaches forward to take it, but it is pulled away.

"Ah-aah!" she shakes her head, "say 'pleeaaase'~"

"Gihve..."

"Mmm, doesn't sound like a 'please' to me!" He tries reaching for it again and miserably fails. Lippy giggles at his struggle and blinks lusciously. "Pretty please?"

"..." Crimson gawks at her with his mouth slightly agape. He can't even get himself out of bed due to the tranq's effects... but an ingenious plan strikes up in his foggy head. "... Pleah?"

"Ooo! Huhuhuu!" She wiggles in enjoyment. "Why of course, my love-boy! Here you are!" He doesn't actually move to accept the drink, so Lippy moves it towards his lips. Some of it spills at the corners of his mouth. Once his brain registers that he should be swallowing, he does exactly that and consumes the tea. As soon as the cup empties, she leaps backwards with a sinister smile.

A few seconds tick by with nothing happening.

Then like a surge of electricity, his body shivers. "Eegh!" The magical properties of the tea duel the potion in his body, achieving a quick victory to instantly stabilize his senses. His pried eyes stare at the ground, then the bed, and finally Lippy. Everything is clearing up. Along with his clarity, his rage. His vision tunnels directly to the mare that jilted him. Time to bat off his plan: punish her. "... You fuckin' snake," he utters as he flings the blankets off.

"Feel better, honey bunch?"

"I will after I put you in the ground." He leaps off the bed and channels his Arch-- "-- Hugrh!" His eyes had begun to glow golden as he lifted a powerful grasp towards the collar, but something is wrong. Terribly wrong. He wasn't jolted back by the collar's chain as there is still slack left, but his body feels weak. His very strength is being siphoned from his body even after the effects of the tranquillizer mostly subsided. But why? Why is this...? He glances down at himself. The collar around his neck. The metallic grooves that detail the collar are glowing with his golden essence. "Hnn, heeh," he falls to one knee and huffs, trying to get words out of his mouth, "the hell'd you do to me? What'n god's name is this thing?" He desperately tugs at the collar around his neck.

"The collar? Ehehe, oh, well, it's a nullifier collar! Can't have you hurting me now, Crimsy!"

"Get it OFF me!" he grits as he pulls on it.

"Weeell, even if I WANTED to... I can't! Hihihi! I don't have the key for it!"

The man's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. "What!? What the fuck do you mean you don't got the key for it!?"

"Don't! Simple as that! Collar was a gift, didn't include the key!" She laughs maniacally and wags her rear. "I mean, I cooould get the chain off, I have the key for that. Just not the collar! Can't break it either, it's magical! Fixes itself when it gets damaged! A bunch of wacky nerd stuff went into making it!"

"What in the world... why does somethin' like this exist!?"

"For humans, of course! Humans have a natural reception to magic, so we need these to make sure nothing crazy happens!"

Crimson's front stiffens at this revelation.

"It was my last nullifier collar too! Hohoh," she tilts her head with a vampiric grin, "I can't tell you how happy I am that it was on you, my lovely boy~"

"You're fuckin' insane."

"Mm, I love it when you're angry!~"

Crimson sucks in two harsh breaths in an attempt to control himself. He tries to channel his Arch again. "Heeeh," he huffs with squinting eyes, feeling as if his soul nearly escaped his body. It's not working. He can't force his power to wake. He lifts his gaze up towards her, his left eye shaded over by his messy hair. "If you don't got the key... how do I get this god-forsaken collar off?"

"Nope! Can't trust you with the details, honey bunch!~"

"I'll make sure to be as FAR away from you as possible when I get it off... just... tell me where I can get it done."

"Mm-mm!" she shakes her head, "you can just come back and find me! Can't really chance that, can we? Besides! I kinda sorta wanna keepyouforever, y'know?~"

"For the love of..." He plants his hand on the side of his head and drags it down his cheek, scratching his face with his nails.

"Think about it! You, me, forever! We can play together, I can knit you clothes, we harvest the crop together! Goodness, being your master is going to be SO much fun!"

"You call yerself my master again and I'm GONNA kill you."

"Mmff, you're such a baaad boy, Crimsy!~" She flings her tail side to side. "I wonder if this is how ALL humans start off when in captivity! But now, I get to HEAR what you're thinking! It's so amazing! C'mon, Crimsy, keep talking tough to me~ I wanna hear everything you're thinking!~"

Crimson's cheeks burn with anguish. There is nothing he can do. It's all a game to her, and he's unable to fight back. This feeling of being completely powerless is consuming him. He can hardly speak because of how furious he is.

"N'aaaaww!~ Look at cute you are when you cheeks blush!"

"Another bone broken. Break 'em one by one every time I hear your speak."

"Then hear every word I say~ Break all of my bones. Break me into bits. Break every. Single. One~" She leans in close... dangerously close... into grabbing distance...

... and Crimson takes the bait. He lunges forward in his fury and reaches to clasp her throat. "HRGH!" He is yanked back by the chain, failing to attain her while being flung onto his back. The bed hardly even felt the powerful yank of his entire body's forward-moving mass, noting a gloss of magic which twinkles around the wooden frame. He is too stumped to realize he is magically bound by more than just the collar.

"Ahahahaha! Dear me, what did I do to deserve this? Equestria's only talking human! In MY home! All to me! Dreams really DO come true! Oh-hohohoo, I'm going to enjoy every second!" She comes down to her haunches, lowering herself to gaze at the grounded man. "And soon, you will too, lovely boy. They all do... eventually~"

Crimson stares trembling eyes at the ceiling. His teeth clench so hard they might break. His whole body is on fire. His heart throbs in his ears. Despite his asperity, he can only lie on the ground, listening to a whip of thunder outside the cabin.

"You be good now, Crimsy. I have a few things to take care of, okay? Momma will be back real soon!"

"Choke on yer spit," he faintly mutters, eyes still plastered on the ceiling. With a maniacal giggle, she nudges the door open with her side and trots out, bothering not to close it behind her.

Crimson can hardly believe this - this humiliating position still hasn't fully set in... but he feels he will have plenty of time to let it fester.

I See Me Riding Off...

~ The Whinneypeg Mountains, Lippy's Cabin ~<
February 24th, Wednesday, 5:41

‎

Thunder rumbles the world outside. Muffled patters of rain imbibe the silence.

"... Hnff, nh." Crimson's irises gleam with gold though it wisps away quickly. He already knew it was a futile effort but tried anyway, just as he has for the last... who knows how long. An hour or two maybe. Still he lays eyes up at the ceiling, having bothered not to move a muscle after Lippy left. Crimson feels no motivation to get up. There is no reason to.

Not a damn thing is going through his mind. Engulfed in ire and bothered, he couldn't be damned to think. His mouth is still soured from the potion, his eyes feel a pound each, his fingertips feel icy, he's hungry and thirsty. A steadily flowing hatred moves throughout his veins and circulates all over.

At least being alone in silence is far better than dealing with the sociopath that locked him here. He heard her take the front door outside and leave the cabin, but isn't sure where she went or when she'd be back. Hopefully never.

He's going to make her pay, no matter the cost. He had killed men for less than this but he allowed it to happen. He failed to see past her mask of false probity and got rightfully suckered into being chained.

"... Soft," Crimson murmurs to himself. "Pathetic." He clenches his fists enough to pop his fingers, becoming gradually more self-contempt. He lifts his palms to his eyes and presses them harshly. "Fuckin'... god damn it. God... damn it!" He swings his fists from his face to his sides, slamming them on the ground at the same time. He blinks his heavy eyes at the ceiling, rather, past it towards the sky above, staring into the otherworldly beyond. "... This what you had in mind? ... Hm? This'll make me better? Make me grow 'n... 'evolve,'" he gestures air quotes with his fingers then plops his hands back down. "... You did this to humiliate me. Didn'cha? Reckoned you didn't have a sense of humor... findin' it all misfigured. Fancied you the mystical type, curtains 'n shadows... ch. What a joke. This. All of this. A fuckin' joke."

His heart aflame, he knows no one is around to hear him but he can't help but voice his frustration.

"Ain't even A joke. 'Cuz I'm the joke. I'm the clown now. I'm sure you're watchin' me, point'n 'n laughin'. 'Look at this moron,'" he mocks satirically. "Chalk it up while you can. I'll bide my time... just like you are..."

Cli... click

Crimson quiets himself and squints at the ceiling.

Squueeeee...

A door is opening, and it certainly isn't the front door.

Just then, he remembers who it is. He sits up quickly. The door stops, pattering across the wooden floor begins. He mentally traces the sounds, following them through the wall as it approaches the bedroom he is in. Small light-red fingertips line the doorframe, then, a wavy bushel of fire-orange hair and a yellow pair of eyes. The man is almost startled at thinking he's seeing a human version of Lippy, but notes apparent differences.

Crimson and this light-red skinned girl make eye contact for what seems like forever.

The girl then begins to slink into view while keeping low to the ground, exposing more of herself. She is hunched over and holds the top of her knees, making herself seem smaller than she is. By no means is she a tall human, at most four feet and a few inches, about the height of an early teen. Though her facial structure and proportions point that she is older than that. All she wears is an oversized white long-sleeved shirt and... maybe underwear. He can't tell with how long her shirt is.

Crimson notes that her posture is unlike the previous humans he had encountered. Even discounting the aggressive humans that attacked him, the others he saw in the formation and in the Castle's spa, they were only mildly slouched and kept their hands to their sides. It's difficult to gauge what this stature means because of how stern and expressionless her face is, but he can only assume this is some sort of method to illustrate she means no harm.

She quickly glances to her left and right then back at him. She continuously approaches him, and he decides not to move or speak for good measure. As she closes the distance she stops right in front of him. Her eyes trace his figure, from his toes to his eyes.

She crouches down all the way and hugs her knees, looking down at Crimson's pants. Her chin remains tucked between her knees as she ogles. Her right hand opens and slowly reaches towards his pants, though she halts herself midway. Her eyes return to Crimson's and they keep locked for a few seconds, he assumes to gauge his potential aggression. Not that he'd want to, but he couldn't be bothered to attack her.

The man shows no reaction so the girl moves her stare back to his pants. She finishes reaching and pinches it between her thumb and the side of her index finger. She rubs it lightly with both fingers, then tugs on it just as softly. Silk, something he assumes she has never touched before. Satisfied with the texture, she retracts her hand and holds her knee again, glancing up at Crimson's eyes once more.

Crimson blinks back in return, content with letting her do as she will. Speaking or interacting with her in any way might intimidate her, he opts playing it safe.

Just then, the girl rises up and steps backwards. She turns around and jogs out of the room, remaining low and hunched throughout. She disappears past the doorframe to some other part of the house, leaving him to his lonesome.

...

Crimson sighs and slides backwards, resting the back of his head on the side of the bed. He stargazes in thought. He didn't have any expectations for how the first interaction with another passive human was going to be, but at least it wasn't... bad. Weird, but not unpleasant. He assumes she already saw him while he was knocked out. In that time, who knows what that insolent manic Lippy did.

Crimson inhales deeply, still trying to fathom the position he's in. He knows he'll get out eventually... hopefully before Equestria is swallowed by magic gone awry.

Frustration builds at this very thought - the magical anomalies - the things that are destroying Equestria at this very moment at arbitrary intervals. He was trying to stop them, or at least get an understanding of them so someone else could figure it out.

And were did that get him? Chained up like an animal. And now that he thinks of it, he's hardly surprised. The mentality of the ponies towards humans in Equestria has not changed at his arrival. The faces of those he sees in the major cities, the crowds that whistle and fawn over him like some sort of prize... they'd rightfully do the same. Or worse. It's only a matter of giving them the opportunity to do it. Just as it was given to Lippy.

He can't ignore the fact that most ponies he has personally met have been compassionate and friendly, but it really comes around in a full circle. He was a pet when he got here, he was a pet to royalty, and now, he's a pet to a psychopath. Nothing has changed. All of his efforts to help Equestria, change the course of the future for the better, protect those that reside in this world, only to be chained up like an animal again. The very ponies he's trying to save...

His attention is grasp by the teetering again of feet on the wooden floor. Interestingly enough, the girl comes back into view with something in her hands. She holds it in front of her mouth, leaving her eyes exposed to stare at him. The item she holds looks like a stuffed toy, taking the form of a red bunny. She stops at the doorframe to analyze Crimson intently.

The man lifts his left brow.

The girl lowers her head farther and walks into the room. Again, she stops in front of him and comes down onto her knees, heels against her rear. With another prolonged stare, "Hnh," she hums and pushes the plush towards him. The timbre of her voice is rather strong and mature, coinciding well with her appearance.

Crimson shifts his glance between the offered plush and the girl. He reaches his left hand to take the red bunny from her. She relinquishes it and immediately brings her hands to her thighs, eyeing the man with deep intention.

Crimson turns the bunny up and down, left and right. Just a typical stuffed animal. Black beady little eyes and nose, pink on the insides of the ear and belly, stubs for limbs, round, squishy and soft. He returns his stare to the girl, into her intent gaze. Looks like she is expecting something from him, but he's not sure what. He racks his mind on what to do with this thing.

An idea sparks. Out of pure assumption, he takes the bunny and holds it to his chest, as if cherishing a gift from a friend...

... and a slow smile turns on the girl's face. It's hardly noticeable, but...

“Your face. Facial expressions? You know, these things? You're doing it again. Smiling. Humans don’t make faces, unless they’re pissed off. So don’t make any faces. At all."

"Why's anger the only face they make? That don't seem right."

"You're asking the wrong pony, Crim, but that's how it is."

Crimson snaps out of his reflection to note the girl approaching him. She is no longer smiling. She steps in between his legs without advertence, regardless, he spreads them a bit to give her room. She holds her palm out towards him and holds it there, appearing anticipant.

With only a slightly delayed reaction, the man lifts his palm and presses it to hers. She stares at the connection they make for its duration. This moment feels as if it goes on for several minutes.

After four seconds, they simultaneously drop the contact. She then reaches her small hands towards his face and cups his cheeks. The man's half lidded eyes gawk back without reaction.

As she holds his face, a demure smile comes again. Whatever it is she's doing, she seems to be enjoying it greatly. She squishes his cheeks softly before moving to his hair. She runs her fingers back through its messy direction a few times, as if combing it to give it a bit of form. She then pulls away, noting some of his hair in between her fingers. She looks at the fallen strands and studies their curly shape.

For this brief moment, Crimson leaves his trouble. Admiring the girl's innocent curiosity, it drives a melancholic peace into his mind. He comes to realize that this may be the first interaction she's had with a human as well. It drives a stake in the assumption that she had already seen him before waking up, especially since the door was closed when he arose.

CLI-CLAK!

Both Crimson and the girl shift to the clamor of the front door. From one moment to the next, the man's fury flares up again. It takes no time for the girl to realize his angst, her brows furrow and she stands up quickly, placing her hands above her knees like before.

"I'm hooome!~" calls a zany voice.

The girl takes a cautious step back and darts her sharpened eyes between him and the door. As hooved steps approach the bedroom, Crimson clenches his fists tighter. He hides the red bunny behind himself under the bed and waits for the four-legged mental condition to appear.

Lippy comes through the doorframe with no signs of being wetted by the rain. Her jerking smile flops at seeing the human girl near Crimson, inhaling for an exaggerated gasp. "Autumn! What are you doing to this poor boy!?"

The girl named Autumn sinks at being scolded, stepping quickly towards Lippy and standing by her side. Though her face doesn't display any form of sadness, only stale and bored.

"Didn't I tell you to WAIT until I got home?"

"Muhn," Autumn hums as she anxiously rubs her knees.

"Hmph! Looks like someone won't be getting their cinnamon crackers tonight!"

The girl turns her eyes away in a manner Crimson can only see as defeated. Though her expression shows no change, the efficacy of her actions exposes her sentiments. The girl doesn't fight or argue against her master, only listens...

... listening. They can understand spoken language.

"Are you hungry, Crimsy?" Lippy asks. "I've got chiiickeeen!"

The man nearly leaps. Chicken?

"Huhuu, from those bright eyes of yours, I know you want it! C'mon, Crimsy, say please! Please!"

"Pehm," Autumn calls.

Lippy snickers and shakes her head, "No, silly girl! I wasn't talking to you! But you get chicken too~"

Crimson darts his eyes between the girl and the pony. His resentment exceeds over his urge to eat something with protein, still, he's so damn hungry.

"C'mon, Crimsy! Say pleeaaase!"

"You ain't gonna hear me beg," he retorts sharply. As he had initially assumed, the girl wasn't keen on hearing him speak. She glares with astoundment and postures visibly more intimidated than before.

"That's no good, lovely boy! You won't be getting any chicken if you don't beg!"

"Peh! Pehm!" the girl nears her owner and pleads.

"Just like precious little Autumn here! She's such a good girl! Maybe she can earn her cinnamon crackers back tonight!"

"Huh!" the girl comes down onto her knees and holds her shoulders by crossing her arms over her chest.

Lippy frazzles her hair with a catholic smile. "Who's a good girl? Who's a good girl?~"

Crimson watches the scene before him in complete disgust. It burns worse in the fact that he knew this was the case. He was told multiple times by multiple ponies that this was the reality of this land. Humans were pets, ponies were their masters... but watching it happen. Watching it unfold in front of him. He feels he's going to be sick. His anxiety is rising, his urge to scream boils in his chest.

I... I wanna go home...

"Last chance, Crimsy! Chicken tonight? Gotta say pleeeaaaase! C'mon! Autumn can't say please, but she tries! Let me hear you say it, I know you can! You won't get anything if you don't! Remember, Crimsy, you're here fooreeeveer! The sooner you relax, the more fun we'll have! I'll make you whatever you want, I'll take you for walks on the mountain! Write you songs, poems! You just need to be a good boy! Say it! Say it, my lovely boy! Say it! I know you can--"

"FUCK YOURSELF, YOU CRAZY WHORE!"

Both the human and Lippy rear back in shock.

...

The air grows cold. Silence presses the bodies of the three in the bedroom. Crimson shoots his dilated pupils at the appalled girl, then to the mare...

... and just when he thinks it couldn't get any worse. She's blushing. His elevated voice sparked a twinkle in her eye.

"Yer not..." Crimson stews in rejection, "... you're shittin' me."

Lippy huffs, batting her eyes rapidly, "... Oh my gosh."

There it is. The confirmation to his agony. The floor under Lippy's tail is moistened, drop by drop by inconceivable lust.

"U-Uuuhm, ehehe~" Lippy whips her tail left and right, her face a flustered mess. "I'll get that cleaned up. I-I need to take care of... personal matters! Eheh! Last chance to beg, Crimsy!" At a loss for words, he only glowers in return. "Mm-nh, t-then, only oats and fruit for you, bad boy! Such a... bad... boy~ Hmf, be right back!" She darts out of the room to another part of the cabin and slams a door behind her.

This leaves him and the girl alone. But not for long. The browbeaten Autumn keeps her hands on her knees, keeps silent, and makes a bashful exit. She didn't even look his way as she left.

Crimson feels a pit form in his stomach. He brings his palms to both of his eyes and presses down his mountain of agonizing frustration. Not only did his outburst stimulate his captor, it pushed away the human girl that was warming up to him. He inhales a stressed breath then releases it brokenly. He drops his hands from his face to inadvertently allow something to drip from his left eye.

"... Nh?"

He smears it off with his index finger. He holds it up to his face and looks at it, at the collection of watered lipids that stain his nail. A... tear.

Something inside his jaded mind loosens. His surroundings come unfocused and time becomes a distant concept. Dipping into dissociation, memories of old flood back to anchor his conscious. Memories of angst and aridity. Tactile voices speak to him as if he hears them in person. Rustic visions display on a lucid stage.

‎

‎

"Hit back! Hit back, stupid kid!"

"Ehr! Eghk!"

"You're takin' the fun outta this! Fuckin' hit back! Hrrrgh!" The teen of sixteen growls, halting his fists from the young boy of nine. He gawks bitterly, hating how he doesn't even squirm. The kid takes the blows without trying to block, he takes the abuse like a limp ragdoll. "You ain't gonna make it far in this world if this is how you act, worm. You gotta FIGHT BACK!"

Hit one last time on the cheek, the young boy spits blood onto the desert dirt.

"Right, enough, Marcos," calls another teen who stands behind the assaulter. "We should probably move. Black Spurs prolly gonna make their rounds soon. Cobalt finds us with his kid, we'll be in some shit."

"What? Ain't nothin' wrong with a little 'initiation.' He can take a beatin', he don't even cry when I hit 'em! Imagine if he tried fightin' back? Grow up to be a killin' machine! But he don't fight! He never fights back! Kid's got a stick fer a spine, and ain't no way we're havin' weak pricks ride in the gang!" He glares at the boy. "Toughen up, kid!"

"Don't wanna..." the young boy mumbles through his bruised lips. Both teens glare at him in confusion. "... Don't wanna be... in gang..."

"You shittin' me?" Marcos belts a single laugh. "Spruce, you heard him? He don't wanna be apart of the family!"

Spruce shakes his head, "Ain't an option. The sooner you understand that, the easier things will get. We're family, like yer pa' and yer brother. All of us in the Black Spurs. This gang is who we are, whether you like it or not. Remember what Michael told you, Crimson: if you're in, you're in for life. Even if you don't wanna be."

"... Don't... call me that," the young boy utters angrily and grips the dirt.

"Awww, poor little Crimson gettin' mad? Sister's cutesy nickname makin' you upset? C'mon! Show me how mad you can get!"

"Nah, Marcos, c'mon," Spruce puts his hand on his shoulder. "Quick pickin' on him, we gotta go. Bad enough he'll probably tattle on us."

"Nah. He never does. Least the fuckin' pansy ain't no snitch." With a wicked grin, he stands over the downed boy. "Just remember. You'll be gettin' yer serving of 'these'," he lifts his fist, "every time I see you, until you finally grow a backbone. Crimson." He turns around and marches away towards the setting sun.

Spruce shakes his head, moving slowly to follow his friend. "... Like I said, James. The longer it takes you to accept this, the more it'll hurt. Just some advice."

The young boy remains resting on the ground and stares into the oranging sky. He likes it when the sky looks like this. He remembers that dinner was made about half an hour ago, but he doesn't want his mom to see him like this.

Not once has he lifted a hand against anyone. Ever. But the number of times he has been battered into the dirt is becoming difficult to count. Not just by Marcos, plenty of the gang's kids try to aggravate him so he can finally throw his first fist.

None have yet to succeed. For his mother's sake.

‎

‎

Crimson looks down at his open palm. His eyes track the thick callus under each finger, at the multitude of small scars and scrapes that are healing their way out of existence. From hand to fist, he gazes at his rugged knuckles.

Hand and fist. A human's first weapons. Simple in nature, but capable of boundless destruction...

‎

‎

"... Oh! Wait, hold this fer me, please, Vi."

"Mm?"

The young boy of ten passes the two empty water buckets he was holding to his sister of the same age. They walk on a dirt path towards a river nearby, where the surrounding environment is a mix of desert flora and leafless trees. "Momma will get angry if I get my new pants dirty," he states as he bends forward to roll up the legs of his jeans.

"Sleeves!"

"Oh, yeah. Sleeves too." He follows through and rolls up the sleeves to his brown shirt. He smiles at his sister and holds his hands out to take the buckets back.

She shakes her head with a modest smile. "I'll carry them! You'll be less tired when we take them home."

"They don't weight nothin', Viola. Lemme hold 'em."

"Mm-mm! Save your energy, little brother." She commences her stride with a peppy skip, holding the water buckets by the handle and letting them rattle. The young boy moves into a jog to keep up with her.

"Don't go so far ahead, Vi! I'm supposed to be watchin' you, remember?"

"I don't remember that! Because I'm supposed to be watching you!"

"That's not what momma said!"

The two children bicker playfully as they make pace to the stream of steadily flowing water. The boy takes the buckets from his sister and approaches the bank. He sets one bucket down and crouches to fill one up first. After it brims, he uses both hands to heave it up and onto the bank. He takes the handle of the second bucket and dips it into the water next.

"Crimson?"

"Yeah?" he says, still watching water fill the bucket.

"Do we know those men?"

He turns from his task to glance at what his sister is referring to. Indeed, he sees two grown men smiling and waving at them, approaching from their right along the river bank. They look ragged, dirty, and definitely over enthusiastic. One of them is thinner and taller while the other is stout and wide. "... I don't think so. Maybe dad's friends?"

"... M-Maybe," the young girl clasps her hands together over her groin anxiously. The boy finishes filling the water bucket and heaves it onto the bank with a grunt.

"Hey there!" the taller man calls out, lifting his cigarette into the air. As they get closer, the boy's sister nears him and pinches his upper sleeve to calm herself. "You two young ones out here fetchin' water?"

Both children don't immediately respond. Only after a moment does the boy nod.

"Dang!" the wider man calls, his voice more gravely than his partner, "only two'a you 'n carryin' back them pales? Heavier'n sin they look! Need'sm help gettin'm home?"

The boy shakes his head. "Thank you, mister, but I can carry 'em."

"You can?" the taller man chuckles. "Stronger'n you look, boy! Go on then! Get them buckets! Wanna see it with my two eyes, I do!"

The boy and the girl exchange wary glances. The brother purses his lips and moves to grab the two pales, having his sister let go of his sleeve. He moves down to grip the bucket handles...

"GOT'CHA!"

"AAAAAAAAAH!"

The boy's heart thumps in his ear, snapping towards the scream of his sister.

The larger man slipped over to snatch her up and hold her hostage while the taller man ran forward to throw a punch at the boy who just lifted his head.

And he dodges it. The man's punch grazed the boy's cheek and missed, causing him to lose balance and tumble forward right onto the water buckets. The boy leaps backwards to avoid getting splashed on.

"What in the hell're you doin', shit-fer-brains!?" the fat man scolds his comrade. "We got our honeymoon! Quit fuk'n 'round 'n lay the kid out already!"

"CRIMSU-HU-HU-HUN!" the girl cries out desperately, kicking at the man's stomach.

The tall man looks at the soggy cigarette between his fingers, seeing it put out by the water. He grits and throws it on the ground. "Rrh! You little shit! C'mere!" He rises from the ground with clenched teeth, stomping his way towards the boy. With a roar, he leaps forward and reaches out to clasp him with both hands.

The boy ran forward to duck underneath him. The tall man stumbles forward in his attack and hits the ground again, covering his face with mud and dirt.

"DAMN IT, CLED!" the large man shouts angrily, reaffirming his grip on the girl a little too tightly.

"Eelk!" she squeals at her chest being pressed in.

The boy gawks with trembling pupils at his sister. Her cries of pain and discomfort are shredding his heart so savagely, it feels as if it might rip.

Due to this distraction, the tall man comes behind the boy and latches onto him with a rear choke.

"Got'cha, rat BASTARD! RGH! HRRRH!" The man tightens his grip around the boy's neck.

Though gagging and gritting, the boy doesn't look away from his sister. The fat monster is crushing her, and it's hurting him. It's hurting him to watch her suffer.

"HURRY UP 'N CHOKE HIM OUT ALREADY, IDIOT!" the fat man hollers.

"WHAT DO YA' THINK I'M DOIN'!?"

"CRUSH'IM HARDER! HOW HARD IS IT TO BREAK HIS STUPID 'LIL NECK!?"

"RHEEAAA!"

Saliva trickles down the sides of the choking boy's mouth... but he only watches his sister. He watches her losing consciousness. He watches... a tear. A glittering golden drop trickles from the corner of her left eye.

"Embrace what you are, and what you stand for."

"Shield, protect, survive."

"For their life, you give your own."

"Hw--WHAT THE--!?" the large man recoils.

"RRRH! WHAT!?" the tall man howls in confusion to his partner's trepidation. He then feels small hands reach for his forearm, and like a titanium clamp, pain rockets at the boy crushing it. "Ah-AH-AAAAAH! AAOH GOD!"

The tall man releases his stranglehold, and when he does, the boy darts towards the fat man faster than his slow self can react. Able only to backpedal two steps, the fat man is leapt upon by the boy, planting both feet on his shoulders. Clasping the fat man's head, he drives both of his thumbs into respective eye sockets.

"GYOH-GYOAAAAH! MOTHER'A GAH-- AAAHAAA!"

With a grueling squish of flesh, the boy sinks his thumbs as deep as he can. The golden sockets that are his eyes blaze furiously as he twists inside the fat man's head. Paralyzed from pain, he releases the girl.

The boy kicks off the fat man's chest and shoves him towards the ground, leaving him to scream his woe. He takes something off the fat man's writhing body before turning like a sentry to his next initiative. He aims his attention to the taller man. His forearm is bruised a grotesque black-ish purple, leaving his right arm lame. The boy watches him struggle to unsheathe his revolver using his off-hand.

"Fuckfuckfuck, for the love'a Christ, fuck! C'mon, c'mon, c'mo--"

PAOW!

The tall man's head notches back. His mouth hisses saliva as blood trickles down his forehead from a fresh gun wound. He tilts backwards and slams onto the dirt like a sack of cement, dead before impact.

The boy had stolen the fat man's revolver and swiftly used it with both hands, achieving victory in his first ever showdown. He walks towards the river bank and hastily washes his bloodied hands off, as well as the revolver. After clean enough not to dirty his sister, he dries his hands on his shirt and pulls back down his sleeves and pant legs. He comes to his sister's side and crouches to give her a hug, gun in hand. She whimpers against him, resting her right ear on his chest.

"Are you okay, Vi?" the angelic boy's voice echoes as he examines her, seeing that she'll get some bruises but nothing more. She only nods, briefly turning her eyes to the squealing pig then to the ground. Following his sister's glance, the boy's sunfire gaze directs at the fat man who still rolls in his torture. Using his free hand, he covers his sister's left ear so a second gun shot doesn't have to hurt her hearing.

Where the fat man's eyeballs used to be are pockets of blood, his face is a mess of mucus and spit from wailing in pain. He slowly tries sitting up against a dying tree. "GOD JUST TAKE ME! OOHOHOHO GOD!"

With the pull back of the hammer, the .357 spits mercy to the begging cretin, lodging lead into the side of his head. Matter paints the tree behind him and he falls back down, he kicks and grumbles for a few seconds longer, then... he stops.

It all goes silent. Only the flowing of river water to drown the little girl's sobs.

The boy carelessly drops the weapon and looks down to his sister. He helps her onto her feet and holds her by her arms. Just the sight of her beautiful, innocent face soothes the inferno in his heart. He pats down her blue dress at her chest, back, stomach and hips to take the grime off of it. As he does, she lifts her face to his.

With a sniffle and sigh, she shakes her head in disappointment. "You're covered in mud," she says as she pats him down the same way. "If I don't get it off, momma is gonna be mad." She continues swiping at his hair and back, trying to clean him off the best she can.

"... Least I didn't get my pants dirty," the boy smirks as his eyes slowly fade back to their hazel selves. To this, the girl has no reply. She only leans him to hug him. The boy moves to sweep her off her feet, carrying her like his bride. He makes a slow, steady pace back to his grandfather's home.

‎

‎

Thunder booms outside the cabin, briefly returning the man back to reality... but only briefly. He hears commotion in the kitchen, the sizzling of something being cooked. Then, the smell of chicken. Tasty, decadent chicken... the one that he won't be having. Whatever. He's more exhausted than hungry.

Crimson tilts to the side until he falls over, hitting the wooden floor with the side of his head. It hurt, but... who cares.

He closes his eyes and... hopes. Hopes that he'll wake up next to Viola again.

...

"Crimsyyy!~ Do you like your oats dry or with milk--" Lippy sings as she trots into the bedroom with a sizable bowl in hoof. Her brows raise at seeing the man knocked over. With a giggle, she leers her head close to the ground to analyze his face. Her profound intuition sedates her suspicion. "... Hmh, good thing I didn't put the milk in the oats yet~" she beams happily and confidently moves closer to him. She sets the bowl down on the ground nearby and plants a kiss on the side of his head.

She flutters her eyelids at his motionless form, staying well within grasping range with a smile of adore. She takes this opportunity to scan around, looking for something in particular...

"There it is," she murmurs quietly to herself as she peers behind him, seeing a certain stuffed animal hidden away under the bed.

Satisfied, she turns back and exits the bedroom, letting the man sleep to his heart's content. Pacing now to the living room, Lippy stops at her lumber rack and tosses two more logs into the fire. Since Crimson isn't sleeping with a blanket, she'll raise the temperature of the cabin a bit more to make up for it.

Her hearted eyes stare at the fire, her chest nearly bursts with joy. "Soon," she whispers. "Soon she'll get what she always wanted."

Well-Nigh Innocent

"Always a pleasure seein' a new face. To whom have I the blessin'?"

"Sky," the youthful man of twenty kicks his duster back and sits down on the stool of the saloon's bar. "Pleasure's all mine, mister..."

"Roy," the grizzly older man says as he polishes a mug. "Welcome to my little establishment."

"Fine place. Open doors. Location's good - border of 'Nuevo' Mexico. Even got a pianist," the red-haired man slyly throws a thumb to his left.

"Plays a fine tune, don't she?"

"That she does." He leans his elbows atop the bar table. "Lookin' to settle a spell, how much fer a night?"

"Twenty cents, two for thirty. A week's fifty. Bargain, ain't it?"

"If I've ever seen one. Just be takin' the night though, headin' out early in the morn'."

"Gettin' the worm 'n all that. No drinkin' tonight, I reckon?" the older man throws a grin.

"Now who said anythin' about that?"

"Hahattaboy! What can I do ya' for?"

"Kinda bourbon you got?"

"You name it, we got it."

"Feelin' peach."

"Exotic one, ain'tcha?" the bartender Roy winks his eye and twirls over, illustrating more agility than his older appearance gives off. He fetches a bottle of peach whiskey while the young man takes out his wallet.

‎

>~~~<

‎

A dozen shots down, the groggy man massages his head with his hands. His red hair scatters at his nails running it in every direction. The sun has gone down, giving the moon way to shine above the desert sky. Tunes from the piano still tick, laughter and banter for the saloon's tenants still chime.

The man still sits at the bar with no company to be had. With the bartender joining other festivities, he keeps to his lonesome. His mind trails to the task coming in the morning. He needs to take his horse all the way to the southern junction to pick up some herbs Viola needs to get over her cold. Her being sick toiled at his soul enough to drive him to drink while she wasn't around to scold him. He'll be getting the job done one way or another, regardless of being hungover. Just needed a little numbing to ease the stress.

The night snails on peacefully, letting him relax as much as possible before heading to the saloon's second floor to catch his room. With his buzz still strong, he sets his head down on the bar table and sighs, content with listening to the ruckus behind him.

All sorts of drunken stupidity is had; perverted jokes, swearing aplenty, and the screeching of wood furniture on wood floor.

He hears the saloon doors smacked open then squeal close, signaling the entrance of some new folk. From the sounds of the elevated voices and boisterous remarks, they're already drunk.

He tunes them out as they meld into the crowd.

"... Whay'a minute... him, there..."

The man picks up on a rather specific utterance.

"Ain' he one'a them... eh... that one thing ya' call it?"

"... Yeah. Yeah, he do look familiar. EY! YOU! RED-HEAD!"

The man's eyes slowly open.

"EY! TALKIN' 'NA YOU!"

He hears footsteps slamming towards him. He lifts his head and yawns into the air, slowly rotating on the stool to stare back at the bald man already standing before him. "... Can I help you in some way?"

"Maybe ya' can! You onna them Black Spurs!?"

The man lifts his left brow unenthusiastically. "What's it to you, friend?"

"What's it ta' me!? I kill yer kin fer breakfast, 'ts what!"

Running his hand down his face, the red-haired man blinks tiredly. "Good to hear it. That all you needed to say?"

The grizzly bald man clenches his fist and churns his crooked teeth. "Nah, pard'ner... got a little more to tell ya'... Black fuckin' Spur."

With widened eyes, the red-haired man throws his head to the left to dodge a wild haymaker, proceeding to leap out of his stool to knee the assaulter in the stomach.

"PWOAGH!" the bald man spits and recoils.

With the grace of a stumbling idiot, the red-haired man staggers off to his left to avoid being thrown up upon by the guy he just kneed. Then with a hazy examination of his surroundings, he sees more men approaching him with vicious intent. Now aggravated that he had his placid night disrupted, he lifts his unsteady fists to his front. The pianist no longer plays her tune.

"Hey, HEY! Y'all stop this RIGHT NOW!" shouts the barkeep while moving to unsheathe his revolver. Unbeknownst to him, another attacker was behind, sitting at the very poker table he was partaking in, and takes him into a chokehold while barring his shooting arm.

With the rest of the saloon tenants pacified with hands raised, the assaulters crack their knuckles and target their prey.

"The night was goin' along just fine, fellas," the red-haired man nonchalantly comments.

"Was!" one of his oppressors shouts. "But you got a lot to answer for, insect!"

"Like what?"

"You know what you did!" another gripes. "You 'n yer kind!"

"That were the case, wouldn't be askin'," the red-haired man retorts.

"SHUT UP! 'NUFF TALKIN'!" cries the shout to commence the attack.

‎

‎

~ The Whinneypeg Mountains, Lippy's Cabin ~<
February 25th, Thursday, 6:43

‎

"La la lala, la la la. La la lala, laa laa~"

Weighted eyelids come apart at hearing a melodic tune coming from a distant Lippy. Distorted pictures come together to form the bedroom he's still chained up in. From the unmistakable sound of repeated patter outside, it's still raining.

An immediate sight of interest is a bowl that sits near him a few inches away from his face. He gracelessly hauls himself up to sit upright and rubs his eyes.

The bowl is empty. A few grains of what look like oats are stuck at the bottom with a dollop of liquid he assumes is milk. Now that he's thinking on it, he's not hungry anymore, though he doesn't remember eating it. Whatever the case, he's sated and no longer thirsty. And definitely needs to piss.

The racket going on in the kitchen details Lippy's presence. Just as he waits patiently for something to happen, she appears at the doorframe. "Criimsyy!~" she calls while stepping in. "... Oh! Already finished your oats, I see! Great! Slide that bowl my way and I'll get it washed for you!"

"... Why don't you come 'n get it."

"And give you the opportunity to ravage little 'ol me? Silly, silly!"

Crimson huffs and does as she asks, taking the bowl into hand and gliding it across the smooth wooden flooring. Lippy stops it with her hoof and picks it up. "Thank you, thank you! I'll wash this, then I have to go out soon! Anything you need while I'm out? Snacks? A blanket?"

"Need to piss."

"The corner's fine! I'll get it cleaned up when I get back!"

Crimson glares at her as if he anticipated this sort of response. He hardly looks phased, glaring dullness at the grinning mare.

"I'll bring you some chocolate chip cookies! How's that sound?" She doesn't receive a response. "I know this pony who sells really good cookies. I'll bring you some back, my precious boy!" She trots off happily, tailed by the sound of the front door opening and shutting.

The back of Crimson's head hits the side of the bed and he gawks into the void. Another day of being locked up. Another day of being a prisoner. At this point, he couldn't get more pissed off at Lippy, it's stagnated. He only waits for one simple mistake. One tiny error... and it's all over for her. Her and her insanity.

He sits still in contemplation of his delicious victory. The moment he can finally drive his fist into her face, he'll feel alive again.

But a sound hampers his mental track. Something like plastic banging on wood. It draws near.

Similar to the first time, fingertips line the doorframe. Then, Autumn pokes her head. The curious girl looks into the room, locking eyes with him.

The inferno of ire almost disperses entirely. Crimson's clutched brows ease upwards to give him a less threatening energy.

She dips her head out of view for a moment, and the banging of plastic ensues. Now that it's closer, it sounds kind of like... a bucket. Which is exactly what she holds with both her hands.

The corners of Crimson's lips twitch. He almost finds this funny. The super serious expression Autumn has for this presentation is nearly comedic. Even then, if he wasn't smiling for the hilarity of it, he'd be smiling from gratitude. He's absolutely astounded that she not only heard him, but she knows what he said, even how rude it was. There would be no other reason for her to bring a bucket into his room.

The girl steps in timidly towards the man's front. She presents the bucket with two hands and grunts, "... Mh."

Crimson lags in reaction but eventually sits up to take the bucket. With it in hand, he rises to his feet, something he hasn't bothered to do in nearly an entire twenty-four hours. As he comes to his full height, the girl shrinks and takes a few steps back.

Giving her a firm gazing, the man reflexively smiles slightly to demonstrate he appreciates her gesture.

The girl's slightly gaping mouth closes... which, after a blink, she herself simpers slightly.

He feels no anger when around this girl. From the way she stares at him, her mannerisms and actions, he can tell that she cares about him. Not a fraudulent concern like ponies or humans from Earth are capable of, but... true care. Like a dog to its master, wholesome and unconditional. She's just... an extremely smart dog. The man had questions about the boundary between sapience and ignorance in Equestria's humans before, but now it is becoming more difficult to gauge.

Crimson sits the bucket down and walks around it, giving Autumn his back. He reaches for his pajama pants, but... also hears pattering circle him. Autumn's curious gaze appears in his peripheral vision, directing the man to stare at her with mild disconcert. Her eyes bounce between his hands, his groin, and his face several times.

She wants to watch?

Crimson holds his position for a spell to see if she disengages.

Nope. She's still watching.

Crimson purses his lips and tilts his head to the left, gesturing to himself ah well, it's her prerogative. He spreads his legs a little over shoulder-width and pulls down his pants at the crotch to flip out his manhood. With his left hand to aim, he releases a fairly accurate stream into the bucket. He's proud to not have missed a single drop. With a sigh of contentment, he lets the river flow all while the girl uncannily watches.

With a quick wink to glimpse at the girl's face, he notes that she isn't interested to watch for the reason he'd suspected. Well, now that he's really tacking it down, he wasn't sure what reason she had to watch. Judging from her stare, it's like she's trying to learn from what he's doing.

With three quick tugs to finalize his relief, he sheathes his weapon and takes a step back from the bucket. He stares wonderingly at the girl who in turn watches the bucket. She begins to approach it which tips Crimson to back away from it further. She rubs the top of her knees while staring down at the liquid that now fills the bucket a few inches. From the way she leans down towards it, it looks like she's going to take it back.

Which is exactly what she DOESN'T do. Crimson feels a spur in his stomach when she reaches to lift her baggy white shirt, revealing her chaste womanhood housed between child-bearing hips. Her bodily exposure stuns Crimson enough a-moment for him not to realize what she's doing. She's trying to hold her hand in front of her vagina like he did to his dick and she spreads her legs apart.

"Gh-ch!" the man grits as he runs forward and pushes the bucket under her. Fortunately, she spread her legs enough for the bucket to fit between them, and the stream falls into the receptacle.

The girl gawks at him in confusion. It's like she doesn't understand what his deal was, or why he reacted so suddenly.

Fortunately for him, she didn't flinch or become frightened at his movement, which could have caused a pretty bad mess.

Autumn leaks out the last of her bodily cause and rubs herself three times as Crimson did, which of course, doesn't do anything. She directs her uncertainty to the man.

Crimson lines his mouth. Regardless of his ambivalence, like a father to his potty-trained daughter, he lifts a thumbs up and smiles wryly.

Autumn looks at his thumb then to his smile. She mimics his approving thumb and smiles in return.

"... Cheh," the man snickers, incapable of suppressing his finding for humor. She truly doesn't know that what she is doing is absolutely ass-backwards and he admires the innocence in it.

At seeing him genuinely chuckle, Autumn's lazy smile brightens and she crosses her arms over her belly.

They spend a idle moment staring at each other while saying nothing.

As if a random surge of motivation flew through her, she takes a step back and moves to the bucket, taking the handle into her hands. With it, she lifts it and waddles out of the room. Crimson doesn't see where she goes with it, but judging from another door kicking open and the flowing of fluid, she's disposing of it properly. As she does, he moves to sit back down at the side of the bed and shake his head in a degree of disbelief.

She's smart enough to do things like bring him a bucket and clean it out like an intelligent human would do, but...

... but he doesn't linger on it. The sound of the front door being opened throws him back into a depressive state. Hooves clop against wooden floor and a teeth-churning voice calls, "I'm hoooome!~ Back a little early since the storm picked up!"

For once he despises the rain. Her early return dues Crimson's psyche to step out. He falls back into disassociation, his body's adapted form handling what he couldn't be damned to deal with. Lippy keeps talking and talking as she wanders around the cabin but it's all babble. His body enters autopilot; his mental programming in this moment only has two variables: harm Lippy, and do not harm Autumn.

Protocol if he's ever known one. An odd waft of whiskey tingles his nostrils as his brain travels in reverse...

‎

‎

The young red-haired man dodges a left hook by flinging his head back, retaliating with a straight left into his assailant's nose. He follows up by lifting his right foot at their stomach and shoving them back into one of their comrades.

Another rushes in from his left but with a quick kick of a barstool onto the ground, the aggressor trips over it and lands face first onto the saloon's floor.

One goon fancies an idea to jump onto the rail of the second floor's balcony and leap down onto the man, which he executes with a wrestling dive, only to have the man take a few steps to the side and let him slam onto one of the tables.

Two more men charge at him and they simultaneously leap with arms extended. With the grace of a drunken straggler, the man crouches down and rolls under them, making them overshoot their attack and hit the bar table.

But as soon as the man comes up to his wobbly feet from rolling, he is latched onto by another goon from behind, the same goon that choked out the barkeep. The remaining two opposers get up and bee line as fast as they can to beat on the suppressed man.

Pinched into impotence, four fists cram at his body and face. The red-haired man tries to get his arms free but to little success. His strangler is much larger and holds him like a vice.

He takes another shot to the gut, the ribs, then the face, again and again. A pattern to their strikes is given notice. In comes another hit towards the stomach.

It fails to land as the man desperately kicks his left knee up with immaculate timing, striking the elbow of the one who threw the punch to break their arm inwards.

"OO! OOO! FUCK! FUCK!" he cries and backpedals while holding the tricep of his lame arm.

The second assaulter ogles the broken arm of his companion in shock long enough for the man to hop up and throw a left roundhouse kick to his jaw, his black boot piercing their cheek. With blood and a tooth, they are knocked unconscious before they hit the ground. The goon with the broken arm bawls into wails and tears and runs out of the saloon.

Finally to deal with the fat idiot that clenches him, the man throws his head forward then back to bash his grappler's nose, getting blood on his already red hair. Still, he is detained. A stubborn one, just like he is.

Another bash. An audible crack is heard, along with more blood. The goon does not relent.

Another bash. And another. And another.

Dizzy and drunk, the red-haired man winds up one more destitute throw of his head. He huffs in surprise when he ends up flying backwards against the chest of the goon. Both of them hit the ground at the same time.

He rolls off of their fat stomach and staggers onto his feet, lifting his wobbling fists while darting his head all around...

... clean house.

And a fucking headache.

His hands drop limply to his sides. He notes the pianist watching him in absolute horror, though he's too totaled to try and consolidate with her. With a slow rotation of his head in two crescents to pop his sore neck, he makes a sluggish pace up the stairs of the saloon towards the room he rented. Entering and locking himself, his blurred vision scans the room and hopes for a bathroom, or at least a latrine.

Of course there isn't one. Bed doesn't even have a blanket, just a single pillow. No wonder the room was cheap.

No sense crying over it. As tradition, he'll probably get kicked out early in the morning once the mess gets cleaned up down there. He slinks to the bed and plops down on it, falling asleep in the position he landed.

Minutes turn to seconds. Hours to minutes. The day passes along as a breeze of wind, coming and going. Before he knows it, he's face down on the bed, just as he was in his memory.

At least the bed is softer than the floor.

‎

‎

~ The Whinneypeg Mountains, Lippy's Cabin ~<
‎ February 26th, Friday, 1:18

‎

The next... morning? Probably morning. It comes. It comes and Lippy makes him a bowl of oatmeal before leaving to do her daily tasks, or whatever the hell she does while out. He eats without rush, savoring the taste of the fresh fruits and home-grown oats. As much as he hates this situation, he'll find enjoyment in good food either way.

Once finished, he sets the bowl on the nightstand and plops himself back down on the floor, leaning his head back on the side of the bed. Another day of... waiting.

He actively keeps himself focused on something tangible, whether it be the patterns of the natural wood along the walls or the decorations and paintings, he wants to keep himself from dissociating again. He let it happen far too heavily yesterday, and in order to keep his sanity, he'll keep grounded for now.

In truth, he holds a tingling anticipation. He hopes that he might be visited by... well, the girl. He might not want to admit it to himself, but he genuinely had a good time with her yesterday despite the circumstances.

So there he sits and waits... and waits... with no sound to be heard in any other part of the home. Maybe she's still sleeping?

His eyes lower to the ground as time passes on. It works against him to hold this prospect, time is moving continually slower until it creeps to a crawl.

...

The dullness is setting in. He senses his mind regressing into a delusion-state. He needs to focus on something again. Waiting for the girl isn't panning out.

He should just forget about it. For now at least.

Click.

Squeeee...

Or not!

Crimson's eyes widen slightly at the hoping audition of company. He hones in on the stepping of small feet across the cabin. It gets closer and closer.

The man sits up at seeing her appear at the doorframe. Autumn stands just as she was yesterday, low to the ground and trepid. Crimson's idle face trades to a wry smile at seeing her.

She stands curious for a little longer at the door. Once his smile fades, she walks towards him and comes down onto her knees. She gawks at him quite seriously, but he knows it just her resting expression. "... Uhm," the girl grunts and slaps her belly.

Crimson furrows his brows at the gesture. He has a feeling she's signaling something like... "... Hungry?"

"Huhm!" she nods and slaps her abdomen again. She then points at him and slaps one more time.

"I'm hungry?"

She nods repeatedly and rubs her belly.

"... Uuh," he glances slyly to the bowl just outside of the girl's peripheral. Indeed, he did eat a hearty bowl of oats, but it left him mildly dissatisfied as many grain-only diets do for a man of his stature. With pursed lips, he nods guiltily. He isn't sure what she has in store, but hopefully it's not another bowl of oats.

Autumn nods in return and stands up, jogging out of the room towards another unseen part of the cabin. Considering she went to the right, it's probably the kitchen.

Now he's getting to think: is she even capable of cooking? It wouldn't be a far-fetched concept considering he's been told they're able to use tools and such. But operating a stove, a pan, utensils, oils and condiments, the whole shebang, the man thinks that it might be a tad bit too foreign for the likes of these humans.

It's conflicting again. The level of intelligence that these humans are capable of possessing is only getting more difficult to gauge. Apparently they can use a saw and hammer 'n nail, but they can't speak any coherent language, only mumble sounds similar to those they hear regardless of understanding what is said. Autumn knows how to dispose of urine, but couldn't figure out how to do it herself.

It just doesn't make any...

Sniff

... sense. Chicken. Smells like chicken. Is Autumn...?

The man fixes his posture and raises his brows, attentive like a dog teased with a bone. He hears the sizzling, he smells the savor. Autumn is legitimately cooking him chicken. It couldn't be Lippy since she left a while ago. Unless she crawled in through the window or something stupid like that. Couldn't be the case.

Soon enough, the kitchen quiets down. Patience is required to endure the silence. The very thought of eating such a succulent morsel...

And there she is! Autumn appears at the bedroom door with a plate in her... hands.

Crimson notices something wrong. While minor and hardly noticeable, it's bugging him. And it certainly wasn't there before.

On her left hand, on the side of her index finger, she has a cut. A fresh one. Looks like it's still bleeding. His appetite suddenly vanishes at the sight of this. She accidentally hurt herself making him something to eat...

Autumn halts in front of him and crouches down. She presents the plate she holds, placed with diced chicken and a chopped up carrot, but it's not what he's paying attention to.

Crimson realizes she's been holding it out for him for a few seconds so he moves to take it gratefully, but instead of digging in, he sets it down at his side. Visibly confused, Autumn bounces her eyes between him and the food. The man reaches for her hand which startles her, she recoils and puts her hands at her chest.

Crimson keeps his reach suspended for a moment, then continues again. Thankfully she allows him this time. He takes her left hand into both of his and brings it closer to him. Her concern is apparent but she doesn't pull back. She realizes that he's examining the cut on her finger, the one she gave herself by accident using the kitchen knife.

Suddenly, a sensation like no other passes from her hands to her body like a steady wave. The tingle throughout is especially strong at her finger.

The man lets go of her. She retracts her hand and looks at it... and the cut is gone. She twists and turns her hand to try and find it, then darts her gaze at his hands. And that's where the cut sits. She lifts her astounded orbs to his, to which he also stares back with surprise.

Autumn reaches quickly and clasps his hand with both of hers, just as he did to her. She stares at his relaxed index finger, eyes running across the length of the gash. It's unmistakable; it's hers. The exact length and everything. Again, she gawks into his eyes as if the explanation was written there.

Crimson having not known that he could still do this despite the collar being on, he smiles wryly at the accidental miracle.

Moving a lock of her hair out of her face, Autumn returns a simper. She lets go of his hands and looks to the plate again.

Crimson picks it up. Having no utensil, he decides to pinch the bites of chicken and carrot pieces. Taking a few bits of decadent chicken into his mouth, he chews animalistically and nearly bites his own fingers. A brief display of terrible manners later, he notes the girl still staring at him. With a bashful chuckle, he settles himself down. In this clarity, he picks up on Autumn's lack of eating.

A random idea sparks in the attic. He couldn't be sure how she'd react to this, but... he wants to try it anyway. If anything, as a token of appreciation. Crimson pinches one of the bigger pieces of chicken in his fingers and holds it in front of his face. He gazes at the girl who blankly mirrors the stare... then he offers the chicken to her. She looks at the piece with confusion.

"Mm?" the man hums.

With a hesitant darting of eyes from him to the food, she leans in and takes the chicken into her teeth. Released from his hold, she brings it in and chews.

Coincidence decides that they smile simultaneously at each other. When Autumn finishes swallowing her food, she eyes the plate he holds. She scans the contents briefly before reaching to take a slice of carrot. Now returning the favor, she reaches her hand forward like he did to offer the piece.

Crimson chuckles at the turn of events. It's not what he intended, but looks like it's his turn to be fed. He leans forward and separates his lips to expose his teeth. He half suspected her to pull away once he demonstrated his K-9s, but her confidence in him is starting to demonstrate. A spark of warmth spins in his chest at her trust, he moves to take the carrot into his mouth.

Due to his mental ponderance on her growing affiliation to him, he accidentally brings down too much of his lips onto her fingers and wets them. He pulls back and crunches on the carrot with an air of embarrassment. Autumn cares not in the slightest. His glistening saliva on her fingertips is the last thing on her mind right now.

Thus continues their pass-time of feeding each other. The stride of time is of no concern to anyone, and for the time being, Crimson unthinkingly staves off his passive ire.

Just before they finish eating the plate, the front door barges open to bring it all to ruination. "I'm hoooome!~"

Today is no different from yesterday. Once she returns, once her presence is nigh, it's all up shit-creek. Autumn scuttles out of the room and takes the plate with her, and she doesn't return for the rest of the day. The fun he was having grows cold and brittle while the flames of angst ignite again.

And that's how it remains for the rest of the day. His only hope is that, if he's still going to be trapped here by tomorrow, he gets his visitor again. The little light in this vast darkness.

We All Wear Masks

~ The Whinneypeg Mountains, Lippy's Cabin ~<
March 22nd, Thursday, 7:56

‎

He wakes up. Lippy makes him something. Lippy leaves. Autumn comes. Autumn makes him feel better. They do things together. Autumn leaves. No pun intended.

Lippy comes back. Lippy ruins his day. Lippy makes him something to eat. He goes to bed.

This has gone on for... a while. With no access to the outside world, he couldn't be sure. The only grounding Crimson has is Autumn and the interactions they share, but even then it's difficult to keep track.

Were it not for her, he'd have gone ballistic. Drastic. He'd no clue what he would have done by now, but he seldom thinks on it. He keeps to his grounding. He keeps to the only bright side of this hellhole, and with the coming of another day, another breakfast of basic plant-based proteins, his captor leaves for the afternoon.

Like a boy at daycare waiting for their friend to appear, he sits on the edge of the bed in anticipation.

And there she is. Autumn comes to the doorframe, peering in with wide eyes and hands behind her back. Crimson can't help but smile at seeing her, and she returns one of her own. Whether it be his mind tricking him into believing this, he swears she has become more expressive as time has gone on. Her idle face is seldom demonstrated, given in for curiosity and glee.

He also noticed himself talking less, though unintentionally. He knows she can understand him perfectly. Enough time seeing her and Lippy interact keens him in that she knows English, or Ponish, as much as your average human back at Earth. There's still so much he doesn't know about humans, and this little visit to the crazy shack netted him nothing. Except spite. Plenty of that.

Crimson acutely observes Autumn's smile wane away which drives in concern. His smile drops right after hers and he tilts his head.

Autumn glances to her left, looking at something on the ground just outside of his view. She leans down and pulls on it, dragging it along the floor, revealing it to be a box with Ponish writing on it. From the looks of it, it's just one big word that labels the box.

The girl comes down onto her knees and pushes the box into the room, manning it all the way towards Crimson who comes off the bed and sits on the ground. Halting the box a few feet away from him, she crawls around it to place herself between him and the box. She puts up an awkwardly tilted smile.

Crimson's simper widens and he crosses his arms, wondering what she's got in store for him today.

The girl spins on her rear and gives her back to him. She opens the box and rummages through it. Taking a single content out, she spins back around and presents what she holds. A yellow bouncy ball.

Crimson looks at it, recalling it to be one of the activities they shared together. Actually, it was their first one. After the whole bucket incident, the day after, this is what they spent their afternoon doing. Tossing the ball around the room and to each other...

"Hmheh," Crimson chuckles at seeing Autumn balance the ball on her nose. It eventually loses balance and bounces off her chin, rolling towards him. He takes it into his hand and bounces it off the ground towards her.

She holds her hands in a clasping motion and grasps it out of the air with a bit of vigor.

Though the catch was clunky, the man nods in approval nonetheless.

Autumn purses her lips and tries to imitate the man's bouncing of the ball off the floor, but she puts too much force into the throw and ricochets it like a bullet.

Eyes widening, Crimson dodges the projectile and watches it zoom to the window near the bed, colliding into the fabric that covers it and cracks the glass on the other side.

Both Autumn and Crimson gawk at each other, eyes dilated.

...

Then they burst into laughter.

Autumn gently bounces the ball on the ground towards Crimson, having him catch it and hold it in his fist. Locking eyes, the man notes her bashful disposition. He catches on to the desires of her unspoken self, and he brings it close to his chest with both hands. Autumn's eyes glitter in response.

She proceeds to flip around and skulk through the box again. Crimson sets down the ball at his side and curiously waits.

She turns back around with another item in hand, another toy that they played around with. A baleros barrel cup. Crimson's smile widens slightly at the memory of that day.

"Mh," Crimson grunts, shaking his head. He takes the baleros cup from Autumn and holds it in front of him from the wooden handle. She watches intently, seeing as the man jerks the cup along the string to catch it with the stick of the handle in one effortless try.

"Wooh!" Autumn vocalizes her awe and clasps her hands together. Crimson offers it back to her and she snatches it quickly. She attempts to flip the cup exactly like he did, only to have it hit the side and bounce off the handle. "Murh!" she huffs her annoyance and tries again. And again and again... no dice.

Autumn holds the handle and the string, moving her hands up and down in one quick motion to flip the cup and land it perfectly back on the handle. The man claps his hands in approval before she hands it to him.

He takes it from her and gives it a try himself. The cup hits the side of the handle and signs off his failure. Sharing a chuckle, Crimson sets it aside.

With a beam, Autumn twirls to the box again. She returns her face to present a blindfold.

Crimson's brows raise at the sight of this weaving of fabric, his mind bashfully recalls that day...

"One... two..." he counts down, blindfold over his face, "... three." He begins his search. Hands out and palms forward, he carefully steps along the slack his collar chain allows.

Truth be told, he already hears her paced breathing. He knows where she is, but prefers to play dumb for the sake of enjoyment. Her presence can be felt near the foot-end of the bed, he assumes she's back against the wall near the window. Still, he walks towards the nightstand, carefully feeling around as to not knock everything over.

"Ghn~"

He hears a suppressed snicker come from the exact direction Autumn is. With a grin, he plays it to be her downfall. He turns and steps towards the sound of the emission. Carefully weaving around the edge of the bed, he extends his arms out and places them on something soft and silky. He keeps his right hand on this thing and lifts the blindfold with the left, revealing that he holds the top of the girl's head. She beams back, almost happy to be found.

They exchange chuckles and turn over the blindfold, now being Autumn's turn to search. Crimson assists putting it over her eyes and tying it to a comfortable level before stepping off to hide somewhere.

It's difficult to be discrete since the chain clamors his movements, but he tries to use it to his advantage. He rattles his chain near the bed then grips it firmly so it stays quiet. He then carefully steps over to the nightstand and props himself next to it, back against the wall just as she was.

"Uhn... nuh..." Autumn 'counts' off, "... mee."

She commences her search with arms splayed out, reaching every which way to touch things constantly. Her first assumption is the bed. Crimson ogles her come to its side and couple her knees against the bedframe. She bends forward and pats at the blankets, feeling around for her competitor.

Nothing. She expresses her displeasure with a grunt and continues searching. She bends down and checks under the bed. Nothing. She turns around and tries towards the middle of the room. Nothing.

Furrowing her brows behind the blindfold, she returns to the bedside and tracks along its length. She winds up bumping into the nightstand and feels around...

... and by sheer accident, she smacks the lamp that sits on it, sending it on its merry way to break on the wooden ground.

Even though it has no lightbulb and isn't connected to anything, having it break would tip off Lippy that something fishy is going on during her ventures out. That can't be allowed to happen. Amidst its fall, Crimson graciously bends down and catches the lamp, lifting it and sitting it back on the nightstand.

Of course, Autumn hears this happen. With a fanged smile illustrating she found her prey, she jogs over to the suspected location and reaches her hands forward. "Maah!"

Squish. Squish, squish.

She feels at the thing she grasps. She knows it to be a texture she felt before, but wonders why it's more firm.

Knowing already that she won, Crimson reaches to remove the blindfold off of her in order to show her she's... grabbing a bit low on his pajama pants. Autumn gawks intently at what she holds - the man's groin. Luckily her hands grasp his length rather than his sensitive pair, no damage done, no foul to be had... though definitely awkward.

Her face is fixed and expressionless. She shows no remorse or disquiet to what she is doing. As a matter of fact, she keeps holding it. ... Though she is no exception to embarrassment. Autumn's already red skin heats up to give her cheeks a pink tint. Still, she says and does nothing. She keeps holding it.

Crimson puckers his lips and waits for her to react. Quite an uncomfortable time passes with her still gripping at his soft shaft, which doesn't stay soft for the duration. It slowly wakes at her gripping hold, but not enough to become impractical.

The man reaches to her wrists and slowly takes her hands off of him, putting up a tilted simper to try and ease her flustered self. Autumn's face stays expressionless though her cheeks picture her trepidity.

Her face is so mindless yet perplexed at the same time. It's... "Mheh. Hehehe~" ... funny. And adorable.

Autumn's glittering eyes look up to see the man chuckling. Seeing him with his silly grin and amused slitted eyes wallows her with placidity. While the flusteration remains, a smirk grows. She ends up chuckling as well.

They both spend uncounted time simply looking at each other exchanging ape-ish laughter.

Rather than pull something specific out, this time Autumn takes the whole box and sets it in front of Crimson. Pushing it towards him, she moves the flaps of the box to reveal the contents inside. Toys of all arrangements: a paddle ball, a jump rope, a mini basketball set, a whiffle bat, and many other small playtime commodities, and all of them they spent with together. Now that he's looking at the collection in the basket... he realizes he's been here for a lot longer than he assumed. A lot longer.

Though it depresses him to know he's been locked away for so long, his only focus is Autumn. He isn't sure what she's doing by giving him all of her toys.

But he spots something at the bottom of the box. Something that he hasn't seen, not something they've played with before. He takes out some of the toys blocking it and sets them aside, revealing it to be... a pink bunny. He shifts his gaze to Autumn, who expectantly stares back.

Eyes back on the plush, he reaches for it and takes it out. He examines it to be exactly like the one that was given to him. Same design and everything, only pink in coloration. He locks eyes again with Autumn. Her lips are pursed together and her head is bowed slightly.

Crimson feels something aching in his chest.

Cli-clack!

The front door. Lippy's back. He hardly has time to register her arrival before she storms into the bedroom with a face-breaking smile. Judging by her anticipation, she expected this. She gasps excitedly, "Oooo! It's happeniiiing!"

"Wh--?" Crimson bounces his eyes between her and the plush. "Happening?"

"The moment of truth! Crimsy, it's all lead up to this! Everything is in this very moment!"

"Quit ramblin' 'n explain."

Lippy takes in a deep breath and holds it, releasing it steadily. Her spastic energy leaves through that breath, her front becomes the most dead-pan he's ever seen it, easily instilling him with concern. Briefly glancing to Autumn, he sees the same expression.

Lippy trots behind the girl and leers, eyes plastered on Crimson without a single hint of gaiety. "Crimsy. The moment you give Autumn that pink bunny, you're swearing an oath. An oath that you can't break, lest you break her heart."

In rising disquiet, He unintentionally squeezes the plush in his hands.

"Listen to me," Lippy firmly states. "I need to tell a little story... if you're willing to listen. You don't have to."

"Yeah, I do. I'm stuck here."

A faint smile grows on the mare's lips. "... Not after today, Crimsy. Like I told you, everything has led up to this moment. Everything I did to you was for her."

Crimson toils to understand what he is being told. ... No, he understands. He understands completely. It's just not... registering. "... You're lettin' me go?"

She nods twice, giving her attention to Autumn. Crimson does as well. "And before you put any of the blame on her, know it's all my fault. I did this to you, I held you captive. Autumn, she... well, she..." she drifts off, her quivering lips close. With the shake of her head, she puts up a weak smile and composes herself. "L-Let me just explain it to you."

"Then do it."

Lippy's incomplete smile remains."... Thank you for your courtesy. I'll start from the beginning, but I'll try not to bore you with the details." She walks to Autumn's side and sits next to her. She and the girl gaze at each other briefly, and Lippy's simper becomes much more genuine. "I used to be apart of the Black Horseshoes."

The man's brows crinkle his forehead.

"Surprised?" Lippy chuckles.

"... Yeah. Really were?"

"Really, really! It was most of my life actually. It was... good. I learned a lot and made great discoveries. But then it was... not good. It was very, very not good. Beaten and abused, drugged, raped, then sold into slavery. The whole ten yards!" she says with a bit more merriment than she should.

Raped, beaten and abused... so that would mean... "... When I yelled at you that while back..."

"Yoouu guessed it! I was screamed at a lot while I was being sexually abused, so, eheh, something inside my head... I dunno! Busted or something! Now that happens when someone yells at me."

"..." He gets it now. She's absolutely insane because... she was made that way.

"But-- Anyways! What was I saying... oh! Right. After I was sold into slavery, I spent my time working at a parlor for some of the richer members of the gang. They'd pass me around with a couple of other mares and did as they pleased with us. Humans were also trafficked in this parlor too. Some of them were abused like us, others got shipped off to be abused somewhere else. Went on for as long as I can remember. Well, one night after the gang members had their fun and left for the night, I was still at the parlor... trying to overdose on... some herbs, eheh~" she nervously rubs her hooves together. "... But as I was trying to get my fill and hopefully end my sad life, a group of Black Horseshoes barged in and put a couple of humans in the room with us. From what I overheard, they were going to be shipped off, so they weren't going to be there long."

Crimson's hands had clutched into fists a while ago, but upon seeing Autumn scoot closer to Lippy and embrace her, he clenches them harder so they pop.

"... And among those humans, little baby Autumn was there! Not even a month old! Hehah~" She uses her hoof to gently stroke the girl's thigh. "... Me and the girls, all of us being abused by the Horseshoes, we were all so tired and numb to a lot of things, but... seeing her. Little baby Autumn. We couldn't sit there and just watch. So, the girls and I stopped trying to get high and put our heads together for a plan to get her out. I was the leader of the plan, and it was agreed on that I would try to make the escape. It was... difficult. Lots of... hush money... favors. It was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do. ... And what do you know, I made it out! Me and little Autumn made it out of the nightmare! ... But, ehehe... the girls. My friends. They were... caught. And butchered. Every single one of them. I still dream about it to this day... but, at least their nightmare is over too."

Crimson clenches his teeth and feels an anxious pit in his gut.

"... So after I made it out, I got into contact with an old friend that you already know! Lightheart Trot! Goodie-four-hooves Lightheart! Still remember the day she went to university and I left Canterlot to further my studies into humankind. Never knew my life would turn out the way it did. ... After it was all said and done, Lightheart was kind enough to do an old friend a favor and gave me enough money to set up my own little shack out in the middle of no where, with no pony to bother me! Gave me seeds to plant and make my own living. So... now I'm here! Hehe~ Despite all of my regrets and all of the loved ones I lost... little Autumn here was worth it all," she hums while leaning in to nuzzle the girl's cheek.

The man's eyes fall to the ground... until Lippy speaks up again.

"So I guess now you're wondering why I'm telling you all of this, Crimsy! Think back on all of the times I left the cabin and left you alone with Autumn! I wasn't actually going anywhere, haha! I was right outside the whole time, waiting."

Crimson can't believe he didn't realize it sooner. Just as it is today, and nearly every single day he's spend here, it has been raining. Lippy never came home drenched.

"... Waiting. Hoping. Hoping that she'd like you and want to play with you. Share her toys with someone for once! I spent hours outside everyday hoping you two would be getting closer. And you were! You two were playing and getting along so well, I thought I was dreaming! I didn't have to do anything but leave, your relationship was so organic! See, Crimsy, you're not the first human I've brought here. I've tried a dozen times. I've tried to bring a human that, hopefully, Autumn would fall in love with and give him the pink bunny!" Her enthusiasm dips with a distant sigh. "... As you can probably guess, each time was a failure. She just... didn't like any of them. Some of them were super nice too! So passive and well-trained... still, she didn't take a liking to them. We never could figure out why. And it made her sad. It made me sad too, because it was so frustrating trying to get something to work. Autumn has always been such a good girl, she never fights with me or gets demanding. She eats what I give her and never complains. She's always been like that since she was little. Growing up, the only thing she ever wanted was a little one of her own. A little Autumn to nurture and love forever. This was the one thing she was picky with..." her gloomy eyes lift to lock with Crimson's. Her cloudy expression lightens up as they make eye contact. "But now you're here! And Autumn, well, she loves you! Hehah, what a twist of fate, right?"

Autumn crosses her arms over her belly as if she was trying to stave off the cold. Her eyes have stayed on the ground and have not looked up, not to Crimson nor Lippy. The man's plaintiveness grows in weight every passing second.

"In fact, she loves you so much, she tried to undo the chain for your collar several times when you were sleeping. She knew that I was keeping you here against your will and... she wanted to free you. I even had to hide the key from her and tell her to stop, heha! ... So... like I said earlier, all of your hate should be to me. Not precious little Autumn. I kept you here for this long so that she would finally have her own love. Don't get me wrong, aha, I love you too! With your hunky muscles, your alluring vascularity, your perfectly chiseled chin, eheh~" her eyes pulsate as pink hearts until she shakes her head. "But! That's besides the point! ... Crimsy. Tell me. Tell us what happens next."

"..." Crimson grabs his head with his right hand and squeezes to try and suppress his internal war.

"Regardless of what you choose, Crimsy... you'll be let go by the end of the day. Don't feel any pressure to decide! If by some miracle you give me mercy, I'll... keep trying. Keep trying to find someone for my little Autumn."

"I can't," the man grumbles. As soon as he speaks these words, his soul cracks at seeing Autumn squint. The type of squint that attempts to hide the watering of the eyes. Unable to bear this, he speaks up again to try and control the damage. "To give her a child... what kind of a father would I be if I just put one in her then up'n left? I ain't gonna give her a piece of myself and never meet the product of our lives. It just wouldn't be right fer Autumn or the kid."

"Num!" Autumn's shimmering orbs look up to him and she extends her arms forward, as if trying to halt him.

"Exactly, Crimsy!" Lippy agrees. "What Autumn said! We can take care of the child! You don't need to worry! We'll give them all the love and care they could ever need!"

"... But I'd still be a piece of trash for just leavin' a kid I made. What if they ask for their pa'? What're you gonna tell 'em? He's an irresponsible scumbag that booked it after loosin' a load?"

"Nope! I'll tell them that they have the best dad in the world!" Lippy nearly hops. "A hero! Their daddy is Equestria's Angel! And that he loves them very, very much! It's sad that he couldn't be around to watch them grow, but he'd be proud of them regardless! He'll be out saving Equestria so that they can live a fruitful life!"

"Saving Equestria?" Crimson's brows line the top of his eyes. "... How do you...?"

"Crimsy, I know more about you than you might think, thanks to our mutual friend. I could never keep you here forever. Who else will stop the magical anomalies from destroying the land? I'm sure your little one would understand~"

Visages of an unmade future flash in his conscious. A child whose features are blurred - held in the air by both him and Autumn. They run together, play together, rest in the grass together.

And the next flash is of only Autumn and the child. Laying on the grass, she sleeps on her mother's chest, as Autumn herself stargazes into the night sky. He is not present. And never was.

The man now fixes his attention to the girl. A small ember of hope burns in her eyes, pining his mind to have been swayed.

Crimson can hardly speak. His inner altercation wrestles at the speed of light. A cretin of a father that was never there for their child, but assured that he would not be at fault. Even if so, he'd feel less of a man for going through with it.

But now his incessant magnanimity flexes its strong arm. This is what she wants, a love-made child. He'd be selfish to deny something he's capable of giving, moreover, the wish of one's life. He comes to terms that his emotions are striking true. The interactions they had, the games they played, it was a feeling akin to a boy having a crush on a cute girl at recess. A sensation of childlike giddiness that he didn't have the time to feel when he was growing up; a crippling conviction of yearning for that innocence.

Without a doubt the time he has spent with Autumn was heartfelt. Were it not for the position he was in, being with her for the unforeseeable future would be more than imaginable. Lippy is right; this girl is sweet, caring, and definitely a pleasure to be around. She even knows how to throw a meal together as she's done it a few times exclusively for him. She'd... make a great mom.

"... You know," Crimson begins with gravel in his throat, "... the moment you let me go, I'm gonna kill you."

"That's fair!" Lippy joyfully states. "It was really selfish to kidnap you and use you for something so close to me. Looking at you all chained up, I saw a lot of myself! Just like when I was captive!"

"So you know exactly how fuckin' humiliatin' this is. And you still did it. ... Hmh... least I know why now. Y'know, you put a lot of effort to keep your personality plastic. Thought you were just some crazed lunatic fixin' to keep me yer trophy piece."

"I'd like to think I'm still partially sane! Ahah!"

"I could hardly tell. You sure did put up a character."

"Of course! Lots of ponies do it! I need to put up a character. It keeps the bad thoughts away... most of the time."

He shakes his head with dissonant disappointment. "It's the same yarn no matter where you go. Especially people."

"And I don't think it'll change any time soon, Crimsy. We all wear masks. Sometimes it's the only way to make it to tomorrow."

He clenches his fists. "Reckon so."

She catches his expression instantaneously, analyzing his eyebrows, the darting stare of his eyes, the lining of his lips, his clenched fists. The expression of an aggravated human. "I don't blame you for being angry. But... my only fear in life isn't dying - it's Autumn not having the family she always deserved. If I died, she could handle herself. I taught her how to tend to the land and do the chores around the house. ... Really, my life is hers! If something happened to her, I'd... hehe, probably kill myself! So... could... could you promise me one thing? Crimsy?"

"Cherry to oblige," he utters with a hint of sarcasm.

"When I unchain you, do whatever you want with me. But please don't hurt Autumn. Please?"

Stopped in his tracks, Crimson blinks out a chunk of his blinding rage at the request. "... Mm-- ... yeah. I'll, uh..." he shuffles in place to sit criss-cross. "Wouldn't hurt a hair on her head." Though he doesn't look up to see, he knows he's absorbed by Autumn's muse.

"Thank you... Crimsy." A rumble of thunder trembles the world. "... Did... you decide what you want to do?"

Indeed, the war inside is coming to an end. The army of altruism is raising their flag in victory. Crimson looks at the girl who looks ready to bellow in tears. She heard everything he said to Lippy and it isn't easy to take in. The conflagration that this situation has become is charring the walls of everyone's hearts.

Alas, the battle is done. What happens next... a venture time only knows. With the will to put up a half-hearted smile, he leans forward and crawls closer to Autumn, until they are but inches apart. He can see himself in her beautiful dandelion orbs, a gaze that anticipates his voice. "... I know I ain't need tell you this, but... take good care of 'em for me, Autumn." He chuckles listlessly. "Equestria's... number one mom." He offers the pink bunny for her to take.

Lippy reels mouth agape. Not that he needed to see it, but her reaction shines truth for the granted hopes and dreams of a broken soul. "Thank you," Lippy utters as she stands up. She tugs against the urge to cry, but holds it in long enough for her to say, "I'll leave you two to... y-y'know! Eheh. … Thank you... Crimson." She speaks his actual name with a cracked voice. She quickly turns around and takes off to the front door, but stops just before exiting to call back, "Have fun, you two! A-And don't worry about making a mess! I'll get it cleaned up!~" With a wink, she steps out.

Crimson returns his attention to Autumn, who tightly hugs the pink bunny against her chest. Her smile, genuine and jubilant, becomes contagious. His lips turn as hers do.

As he basks in her happiness, she catches him off-guard by plastering herself against him, squishing the bunny between their chests. She envelops him in a tight hug and holds it jealously. Then without the slightest telegraph, she leans up, nearly standing, to press her lips against his cheek. A quick, innocent peck.

It was such an instant, it felt as if it didn't even happen... but the soft tenderness of her lips still remains. The warmth of the breath she blew on him still tingles his face. The sound her lips made was adorable.

The hug she currently gives is adorable. Her hair, her eyes... she's adorable.

And by tomorrow evening, she'll be nothing more than a memory.

Keeping For the Future

~ The Whinneypeg Mountains, Lippy's Cabin ~<
March 22nd, Thursday, 8:27

‎

Deep down inside, he isn't sure what he wants.

All his life, he always did what made others happy. He never thought about putting himself over the ones he loves - he couldn't bare the thought. Most of the time it was small conveniences like holding a door open, offering his duster to stave off the cold, or taking his horse out to pick something up from the nearby town. With the same fervor, he throws himself in the swing of the reaper's scythe to safeguard them. It never seems to find its mark, a dance of death that has yet to hit its climax.

Make others happy. Maybe that's his calling. If someone he cares for wants something, tangible or not, he'll sure try and get it for them. Emphasis on the word try. With his mentality, he seldom stops to think about what he wants, or how his actions affect those he keeps. Do as he will, he acknowledges a simple truth: one will never be able to make everyone happy, no matter how hard they try.

But this isn't one of those times. The only factor in this exchange is the other party, Autumn. He knows this is her desire, and for good reason. Who wouldn't want a family? A child of their own to cherish and love? A simple yet noble life goal.

Speaking of which, a life goal is something he has yet to attain. He thought it was going to be taking care of Viola and his homestead, but being sent to this land squashed that ideal. He has no sense of direction or plan, it's all faced as it comes. Maybe he can learn a thing or two from this girl and her goal, perhaps the mundane aspects of life are usually the greatest. Hell, maybe doing this was part of the grand scheme since the very start.

Or not, and he's just thoughtlessly riding the tides once more. It's too late to debate this with himself, even with the half-hour it took for him and Autumn to arrive at the proper mindset for this kind of thing. Over with awkward fumbling, he holds the compact girl by the hips and gazes down at her. She lays on the edge of the bed with her butt hanging off, coincidentally the height of the bed is perfect to match his hip area.

Autumn's shirt is still drooping over her innocence to have it yet exposed to him. Not that it'll be a surprise, he's seen what's underneath. The games they played and the activities they shared sometimes steered off in an uncanny direction, such as the bucket incident. That isn't to say he's not tempted to see it again, her exposed self. Out of many uncertainties, having a cardinal urge soothed is definitely not one of them.

Now that he thinks of it, he hasn't relieved himself once since coming to Equestria, but for a good reason. He fears what a certain being informed him of, relative to his seed and his gift. Transference. Given the circumstances, he thinks he knows a way to hopefully make this a safer capstone for the both of them, without worrying about a baby Arch Angel.

His attention is snapped from his idle thinking when the girl reaches to slowly lift her baggy shirt. She brings it up high enough to expose her crotch, belly, and underboobs. Her breasts he's never seen but they always appeared modest under the oversized cloth. The teasing angle shows that he misjudged their size.

His eyes trail down her sleek figure to her v-line, finally arriving at her glistening innocence. Just the sight of her body is revving him up. She's pent up too, it seems. Under the candle light, a conglomerate of heat from her lips begins to trickle down towards the underside of her ass. He feels blood rushing to the proper department - it's his turn to show himself.

Taking one hand off of her rear to latch the waistline of his pants, he pulls down and lets his length pop out. Autumn is startled. He furrows his brows at her reaction at first, then his clouded mind realizes something he should of caught onto earlier; this is going to be a very uncomfortable interaction for her. Propped against each other, they both clearly note that his dick is literally the length of her entire abdomen. This small girl suddenly feels smaller. Unsure whether she's indifferent to this fact or incapable of demonstrating the proper emotion, he gives her an unsure pursing of his lips.

She turns her head to rest the side of her face on the bed, looking away from him while moving her legs to wrap around his back and lock him in. The gesture is rather contradictory - she wants him in, but she doesn't want to look. Her thighs clench at his hips and her body stiffens slightly, prepping for his entry...

... Here's to the future.

The tip of his length presses her lips, and as expected, it's a tough entry, his head fails to delve in. Just from the gauge, Autumn fidgets restlessly.

Deciding on an easement tactic, he leaves his tip at her entrance and releases her hips, her locked legs make up the slack. He takes his hands to her womanhood, his right index finger comes to touch her clit while his left hand moves right under it. With righty on button duty, it begins to rub her in a circle. Lefty uses two fingers to gently probe her entrance, giving her body a feel for being penetrated, something he reckons hasn't happened before unless countless assumptions come into play.

"Huh... uuh~" Her moans are rather coarse and artless but Crimson isn't bothered. It's akin to hearing her usual grunts and moans, only now mixed with a little more air. "Huh~"

While focused on pleasing her and getting her truly ready, he notes that she stopped looking away and is now focused harshly on him. His tending-to continues for about thirty seconds before his eyes glance quickly to hers, then back, then to hers again. She's... frowning?

"Muhn!"

"Woh!" Crimson nearly staggers onto her from the powerful pull with her legs. For her size, she's unnaturally strong. Due to the sudden jerking forward, his member slid across her length and propped itself on top of her belly. "... What?" he whispers out.

"Umoh!" she huffs as she reaffirms her hold around him, her breathing increasing in pace. Her face is flustered but only slightly noticeable on her already red skin.

"I know, I know, I'm just tryin' not to hurt you, is all. Just a little bit longer, okay?"

"Mu-mo!" she shakes her head in rejection. The burning inside needs to be soothed, she can't wait any longer. Crimson delivers another unsure glare, keeping it to see if she'll agree to a little more tending. Her resolve is unbroken.

"... Alright." He takes her hips into his hold again, adjusting his hips to realign. Again his tip presses her entrance, notably less tense than before. He almost wants to tell her 'I told you so', but the effort isn't worth it. Just to stay in the safe side, he gives her one last look in the eyes. She's frowning again.

Gsh-slick~

"Hh-- aah~" the girl's abdomen flexes into a four-pack in reaction to her slit forcibly pushed apart. The hold of her legs weakens and they nearly fall limp, though Crimson moves his elbows in to catch them with his forearms.

"What'd I tell ya'?" he remarks snidely.

Autumn doesn't try reciprocating, her mind is focused on being given in. She strengthens her legs again and holds the small of his back. She clenches her teeth and inhales deeply through her nostrils, flexing her thighs again to give him the green light.

Onward, then. The man tilts forward slightly to allow better leverage in his thrust. His tip disappears into her womanhood and continues sliding in.

"Uhk! Eh!"

No doubt it hurts, and her grunts of pain solidify it. Still, he keeps going until she gives him a sign to stop.

Hilt~

"Ecka!" Autumn's legs kick suddenly, causing Crimson to stop on a dime. But he realizes he didn't even need to, he's already as deep as he can go.

Looking down at his connection, he sees that about two-thirds of his length fills her, with no more room for the rest. The clashing of anatomy almost shocks him. Autumn is definitely not a human from back home, though he reckons he should have been aware of that already.

His eyes ogle her entrance forced to comform to his shape. His gaze trails up along her body, seeing a bulge in her belly that stops just above the button. He admires the underside of her breasts before tacking up to her expression. She looks exhausted already.

Even so, she tilts her hips left and right, gently jostling the rod that fills her. The sensation confuses her - having something foreign this deep inside. It's warm, firm, and it gently pulsates. Her vaginal walls tense every other second then relax, as if trying to match the rhythm of the meat's own pulsations. There's a stirring of emotions in her chest right now, and Crimson catches on to it.

It's clear that she's a little disappointed in herself that she isn't big enough to fit him properly, if only for a more romantic experience, but it's not stopping her from trying to make the most of it. After turning her hips to acclimate to the feeling of being overstretched, she releases her legs from his back and brings them in. She plants her feet under his armpits and begins pushing him away.

"Gk!" she twitches to the sensation of the intruding being slowly funneled out, her inner walls gape before throbbing back into shape. It's an inexplicable feeling that she wants happening again. To fill this desire, she stops pushing him once he's almost out and hugs him again, contradicting the motion by pulling back.

Crimson catches on to what she wants though he lets himself be controlled by her motions for the time being. Sliding back into her is a little easier this time, and even she agrees by moaning something closer to pleasure rather than angst.

Hilting again causes Autumn another surge of pain but clenches her teeth and blows past it. She unravels her legs from him again and... finds herself pleasantly surprised when Crimson starts to pull out on his own. Her legs remain suspended at his sides while the tide of pleasure flows from her love tunnel to her head. The man grips the back of her knees to hold her legs in place, and as he does, they go limp in his hold.

Her body is finally relaxing. Same as before, just as he nearly reveals his mushroom-tip from her insides, he pushes back in steadily. A grunt of satisfaction informs him that it's getting better, and hopefully good enough for what proceeds.

Learning from before, he doesn't hilt all the way - instead comes to a halt. He leaves himself inside and bends forward a little more, looming his trunk above her while still holding her legs. He pulls back two inches and pushes forward the same length in one continuous thrust.

"Moah!" Autumn's back arches in.

Again. A slight pull out, a slight thrust in.

"Moha!" Her hands come to her stomach and she claws at herself.

Shlck~

Shlck~

Shlck~

The short, brief thrusts slowly pick up in pace, just the right amount of pulling out and pushing in to yield passion. "Haah! Haah!" The conglomerate of pleasing and hurting has her eyes squinting, though as he continues plugging her, the clinched frown turns to a loopy smile.

The thrusts continue until they find a maxim, the perfect pace to be both rough and safe.

"Haaah, haaah!~"

Needing to focus on the right amount of length between thrusts leaves Crimson little room to think of anything else, but he certainly hones in on the emissions of lust coming from the cherry-nosed girl. They're becoming increasingly 'normal' as she gets higher and higher. The ape-ish phonemes relinquish their presence in replacement for huffy exhales, and because of this essence of normalcy, he finds stimulation in hearing her moans rather than indifference.

"Aaah! Aaaah! Maaah!~"

Primordial instincts grasp at his throat at hearing her cries. Due to focusing too intently on her voice, he starts pushing into her faster and harder. His dick generously takes its length in and out another inch, causing their connection to begin making a mess of the flooring under them.

Autumn feels his treatment squishing out her lubricant, warm and moist as it trickles from the underside of her butt cheeks and drip to the ground. Her squinting eyes find themselves gazing directly into the face of the one who fills her, seeing that his eyes are gawking at a certain region under her chin. "Uhmff, mmh!" She grits her teeth again and pulls her legs away from his hands. As his arms move away to allow her legs to retreat, she does a quick sit-up to clasp his wrists and bring them in. She forces his hands onto her breasts, huffing out a louder moan than any before due to flexing her abs in and constraining his cock briefly.

Crimson is tingled by the sudden flexing of her abs, quickly driving him closer to his limit. With an exhale, he graciously takes up her offer and cups her boobs with both hands, pushing down lightly and squeezing them so they squish out a bit between his fingers.

"Maah! Haaah!~" Autumn's nails dig into his wrists as her sight loses focus. The world is becoming a pink and foggy mess. The only object of focus is the man in front of her.

Equally, Crimson feels the stars twinkling in his balls. Streams of pleasure shoot up and down from his dick to his head at every thrust. With each push, the edge draws near. "Nnh," he grunts and he gives her breasts a firm squeeze. He leans forward further to fully eclipse the girl under him. He drags his hands upwards along her breasts, letting them pop out into the air while he still moves upward into her shirt, causing her to let go of his nail-tacked wrists. His hands come out from under the collar of her shirt, upwards until they clasp her cheeks. He holds both sides of her head and creases his fingers into her fiery-orange hair as he pumps into her.

"Aaha! Amaah! Ahaa! Aahaa!~" She reaches out and grips his red shirt at his chest, pulling it in and holding for dear life.

Shlck, shlck, shlck, shlck!~

Autumn's saliva and tears wet Crimson's hands.

Shlck, shlck, shlck, shlck!~

Her moans are ringing unremittingly.

Shlck, shlck, shlck, shlck!~

The stars are calling - he can't hold back the urge any longer. He forces his Arch to channel. His eyes briefly turn to gold. "Hngh!"

"AaHa-Aaaa!" Her insides clench tightly. His member stiffens to steel and stretches her walls, proceeded by a gush of hot seed. Another gush, another, then finalized by three more pumps that progressively weaken. Though her entire body is flustered, her belly feels even warmer. The shocks of pain are encompassed by the high of her climax.

Crimson lifts himself up a bit to gaze down at Autumn's front, still holding the sides of her face with his hands. Messy with tears, saliva, and stray hair, he smiles down at her.

With cardio winded, her glossy orbs gaze into his. In between muddled breaths, and a progressively forming frown, Autumn utters, "Ah... luff... yu."

"Please..."

Crimson's chest stiffens. That 'please,' he heard it in his head. Autumn didn't say it aloud, but... it was her who said it. A perfectly comprehensible speaking voice, whispered and broken.

"Ah... luff... yu."

"Crimson..."

"Ah..." a trembling twinkle forces itself out of the corner of her left eye and runs down her cheek onto his hand, "... luff..." her throat catches, suppressing the emergence of sadness, "... yu."

"Don't leave me..."

‎

~~~<

‎

After Lippy came back inside to acquire Autumn, give her a bath and a snack, and put her to nap in her room, she presents herself at the doorframe to a very, very displeased Crimson. He stands leaning his back against the wall next to the nightstand, squinting at her while she returns a rather tactless smile.

"Sooo... how was it?~"

"You're gonna let me go now, right?" he practically demands as he comes off the wall and balls his hands into fists.

"That was the agreement, Crimsy! ... Listen, I can't thank you enough for doing this," she says as she comes closer to the man. "I know it wasn't an easy decision, but..." As she comes closer, she seems to hesitate drawing into grasping distance... though after a moment, she lets out a trembly sigh and smiles again. "... I can die happy."

She walks into threshold... though Crimson only glares at her. He continues this glare for a second longer before turning to face the wall, crouching down to give the back of the collar to her. Reaching into her mane, Lippy takes a small silver key into her hoof. She leaps onto her hindlegs and rests on his back to reach the lock, fumbling with it until it clicks open. Once it is undone, she removes the chain from the collar and tosses it to the ground. Crimson stands back up but continues facing the wall. Lippy trepidly stares up at his back, unknowing of his expression.

"... There you go," she says with hesitance. "Free to go, eheh..." A pit forms in her stomach as he continues to face the wall... motionless.

... Motionless.

SMACK!

The strike resonates in the room. Crimson spun around quickly and drove his fist into Lippy's left cheek, sending her to the ground like a sack of cement. With a tooth bouncing out of her mouth, her void-gazing eyes tremble. "Egh... eck... eh-- eheh..." The shines of her orbs become dim as her consciousness fades.

Crimson's pupils vibrate furiously. He rushes up to the mare and grasps her limp from by the neck, lifting her into the air with a cocked fisted ready to make a mess of her face.

Anxiety rises, his body temperature fries his insides. This doesn't feel good. None of this does. None of this fucking feels good at all.

"Fuck," he grumbles quietly. "Fuck," he repeats more audibly before falling onto his knees, setting the mare down peacefully. "... Fu-huuck." He drives a fist into the floor next to her, and a moment after, a tear as well. He clenches his teeth and holds himself on the ground, doing his best to steel his nerves. He's done much worse than this, throw a simple punch, but it hurts. He told himself he would, nay, he promised himself he would. If anything, just to get back at her for collaring him... but it doesn't feel good to him.

He mutters curses to himself a number of times before regaining his composure. With a deep breath in and a sniffle, he looks up towards the mare. He wipes his eyes with his forearm before he reaches out to take the tooth that he knocked out. He takes Lippy into his hold and drags her in, resting her head on his lap. He opens her mouth and looks for where the calcium belonged. He spots the vacant lot where her molar used to be and reaches to put it back in.

A smoking pain agitates his left cheek as he takes back the damage he gave to her, though admittedly, he held the punch back heavily. Subconsciously. Even then, Lippy is small and fragile enough to warrant this much suffering from such an average strike. Then again, what passes for average to him isn't a common concept.

Her tooth cements itself back into her mouth and he feels a pop in his own. He swashes around and turns his head to spit out his own tooth, carelessly bouncing it across the wooden floor.

With a sigh, he sits in silence with Lippy's unconscious form for a while, comfortable enough to sit here and listen to the rhythm of the rain outside.

‎ ‎

~~~<

‎ ‎

Whisking back like a graciously sleeping princess, the mare moans in her comfort. She hears rain pelting the world outside, she hears the fireplace crackling its steady heat.

... Hmm... the fireplace.

With a puppy's yawn, Lippy rubs her eyes with her hooves and blinks them open, slow to take in her surroundings. She notes that she's sleeping on the two cushion couch in her living room, unsure of when or how she got here.

Her peaceful respite is skewed when she sees Crimson sitting across the living room from her at the three cushion couch. He dons his duster, his grey shirt, his slacks and belt, and his boots. The dead-pan look on his face startles her, ushering in the memory of earlier.

In a panic, she touches her cheek... but doesn't feel any pain. Her tongue glides in her mouth to find none of her molars missing. In fact, she sees a bruise on the man's face. Every bit of recognition pieces together the grand scheme of what had occurred. Her eyes dart to the glass display where her trophy set of clothing once was, seeing it replaced by a red shirt, grey pajama pants, and sandals. This outfit now stands presented in place of the duster attire. Even after what he did, adore fills her heart. "C-Crimson? Wh-- What are you...?"

"Reckon since I helped you out, you can do the same fer me."

"... You... n-need something from me?" Her panic visibly meshes into timid glee. "Oh why, of course! I-I'd love to help you! Anything!"

"Don't get too excited, I'm here to interrogate you. The whole reason I came here to begin with."

"Yes, officer! I-I'll be a good questionee! Ehehe!~"

"Them Black Spurs. What do you know about 'em?"

"... The who?"

Crimson's eyes widen and he shakes his head. "Erh, pardon. The Black Horseshoes."

"Oh! What do I know?" Her eyes fall to the ground and she furrows her brows. She looks back up to him and smirks wryly. "A lot. They're Equestria's shadow! I told you I spent half of my life with them, so if you have questions, I'll probably have an answer."

"Good. What type'a gang are they? What's their goal?"

"... Ooo. That's a hard one. Uuum... well, to answer your first question, they're not your typical gang! They have ranks, hierarchies, big cheeses, sure! Typical. But they work like shadows! Unlike the Wildmanes or the Sleeping Talons, they're super discreet and anyone outside of the gang hardly knows a thing about them! They mostly do stuff that's legal, but not because the law allows it. It's more like... they find grey spots that the law doesn't technically touch. Like trafficking ponies for instance! If a pony is considered property, they don't actually have rights! Like me, I didn't register my anonym when I graduated Cultural Academy, so Canterlot doesn't even know I exist! Probably the biggest mistake I made. They couldn't have sold me into slavery if I did."

"Why's the city wait so long to register you? Why not at birth?"

"Umm... I'm... not sure! You'd have to take that up with the Consortium!"

"Hmh," he huffs his dissatisfaction. Of course the government would be useless. Worse than useless. "Anyway, they're playin' behind curtains, we've got that much. But who runs their ops?"

"Several honchos do. I used to be close with one of them in the southern district, but I'm sure lots changed since I've been gone. Remember, I've been out of there ten years!"

"Any chance I can find this guy?"

"Ooo, I highly doubt it. He was pretty old so he either moved up in the chain of command or died. ... Um, Crimsy, if you don't mind me asking... why are you so interested in the Black Horseshoes all of a sudden? They're bad news."

"Not interested in them, more-so in humans. Everything you've let me in on tells me they're one of the biggest runners in that department."

"They are indeedy. The human market was started by them, actually! They're the sole reason many ponies have access to humans now! Since the breeding market has hit its highest, they're coming out like candy!"

"How much do you know about 'em?"

"Hehehe, I'd like to think a lot! I spent most of my life studying them whenever I wasn't wanted by a Horseshoe."

"... Right." Crimson leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. "So I'm hopin' you'll be able to sate my curiosities."

"I'll try my best!"

"First question: are humans native to Equestria?"

"Nope! From what I've gathered, humans have only been here for about five-hundred years!"

"Yeah? Happen to know where they came from if they're not native?"

"Mmm... that one has a few sources, but none of them confirmed. Some say humans came from the east, but others say that they were found near the oceans west! Maybe they were shipped here? There are even scholars that say the first humans were found here in Equestria, but that's simply absurd! The first recorded human wasn't even in Equestria! They were found in the outskirts of the Badlands!"

"Anything more concrete than that?"

"Unfortunately no. But I do know of an obscure hole in the wall that might know! Unfortunately it's... with the Black Horseshoes."

Crimson sighs and drops his gaze to the ground. Looks like he'll need to acquire a source of a source to find the information that he wants. Still, he won't let this venture go to waste. "Right. We'll get back to that in a second. This sets down my next question. Since you've been around a few humans, I reckon you know what they're behavior patterns are like."

"Oh, yeah, definitely!"

"How do the humans you've met compare to Autumn in terms of intelligence?"

"Autumn is definitely the smartest of the bunch! Okay, that might be a little biased, but I love her to death so I have to say it! She catches on to things I say really quickly, mostly through context! Like, if she doesn't know a word, she takes how it's used to guess what it means! Things like that."

"Other humans can't do that?"

"... Umm... maybe? I haven't had other humans for long enough to test that out with, but since Autumn can, I assume so! She just does it better than any other human I've seen, probably because she's lived with me since she was a few months old. One of these things where, if you grow up in a certain environment, blah, blah blah. The human brain works the same across all of them, so if Autumn can do something, they probably can too!"

"And Autumn knows everything that comes out of our mouths. It don't make sense that humans understand the language we speak but can't speak it themselves. Less yer case is that all of 'em are mute, but I know fer a fact that ain't it," he states gravely, recalling Autumn's... 'words.'

"That's because of a certain neurological disfunction in their brain!"

"... A what now?"

"Yup! One of the Black Horseshoes' scholars figured out that there's actually a problem in the human brain that doesn't allow speech! See, human and pony brains are very, very similar in structure, but the human cerebrum seems to be denser in certain regions! More specifically, the regions that handle speech cognition! It's honestly a miracle that they can learn other things so well. With how dim their main cortex is, you'd expect them to be... stupid! Hehah!"

"Know why their brains'r like this? Doesn't sound natural."

"That's what I said! I knew for a fact that their natural formation was being stunted but I never could figure out why! Other scholars I've met say maybe that's just the way they are, but I can't help but disagree."

"That 'hole in the wall' wouldn't happen to know?"

"... Mmmaybe. That archive is mostly for Equestrian history, not specifically humans."

"Mm. Now back to the Black Horseshoes. The guy you knew - where can I find 'em?"

"... Uuum..."

"Don't care if he's alive or not, more interested in the location. If I can find anythin' they run, that'll be good enough. I'll find my own from there."

"In thaat caaase... mmm... he used to run the club in the Slums. The Gloriosa, ehehe~ That wasn't where I was held up, but I know for a fact that was his roost. He might have moved up the latter and gave it to one of his lieutenants, but I wouldn't know."

"The Slums?"

"Yup, yup! The Slums! Ghetto in south Las Pegasus. The desert area where all of the poor creatures live. The Gloriosa is the only place there with pretty lights and stuff! You can't miss it! But, well... I guess you could. You kind of need to know someone to get inside. They won't let you just, ehe, walk in!" She does an exaggerated throwing up of her arms to emphasize how preposterous it would be to assume any different. "Sadly, I don't really know anyone from that roost, and even if I did, they can't know I'm alive. Sorry, Crimsy."

"I'll worry about that when I get there. Now, not sure if this is a question you'll be able to answer but I'm hopin' you can. How much do the Black Horseshoes know about me?"

"It's safe to assume: a lot. Black Horseshoes are literally everywhere. The ponies you'd least expect might be a part of the gang. They have no official appearance or style, unlike the Wildmanes, so if you'd like to be cautious, treat everyone like a stranger. Even ponies in the Canterlot Guard! Especially them!"

"The Guard," Crimson repeats in a muse, "... complicates the situation... I'll figure somethin' out. ... Say, uh... Lippy."

Her eyelids flutter at her name being called by his voice.

"... Why'd you join the Black Horseshoes if you knew they were shady to begin with?"

"Oo, now that's a loaded question for sure. The thing is, Crimsy, they weren't always scum. They used to be really, really good ponies. A lot of Equestria's expansion and innovation is due to them! If you thought the Royal Researches were some smart cookies, you'll be floored by the Brains the Black Horseshoes have! More over, they were super community-oriented and friendly. They'd help out local towns and villages, donate money to open new schools, house soup kitchens! The Black Horseshoes were the label of Equestria! Especially after the Great War, when the Consortium was in shambles, our country needed leaders. Because our government was too dumb to figure things out themselves, the small band of early farmers and smiths came together to form the Black Horseshoes, and they took it upon themselves to return Equestria to its former glory!"

Crimson listens intently, watching her speak with many-a gesture and flapping arms. Though rather focusing on her, his mind paints the mental image of the uncanny parallel. It dawns on him that the Black Horseshoes are not only similar in name, but in practice.

"When I was younger, a lot of this still held true. Their kindness was the entire reason I was able to join in the first place! Just as many things, they found out how intelligent humans actually were and hoped to explore their potential. They pioneered the domestication of humans before I spoke my first word. Once I finished school, I knew my calling was with them. ... It was with them. Many of the original members that were around either died or left not long after I joined. It seemed like they were having issues internally, maybe arguments between the honchos, if I had to guess. It took a few short years for the gang to become a shell of the former selves. And... an even shorter time for them to trap me into being their plaything."

"... Glad you were able to get out okay."

"Uaah, you're so kind, Crimsy!~ Got myself out of there and with Autumn no less!" Her downtrodden demeanor returns to its normal self, but not completely. Though she smiles, he can see it in her eyes. It still hurts. Regardless, she clears her throat and continues, "There's... one last thing you should know about the Black Horseshoes. Something super useful that will give you an edge." He dons her with undivided attention. "Their humans. Remember how I told you all humans have a natural attunement to magic?" He nods in response. "As you can guess, The Horseshoes' Brains like to tinker with magic a lot. It's one of their fortes. The biggest ring in the gang is human and magic splicing. If you end up getting deeper into the scene... be prepared to see some strange things. The vast majority of common folk have never seen a magically empowered human before, but there is a niche subcommunity of ponies that do own humans, especially in major cities like Canterlot, Detrot, or Fillydelphia. Fancy ponies with too much money. Those ponies own all kinds of humans, including the more... exotic ones. They're different. Different than what you'd see out in the wild. Other than laws prohibiting humans being outside, those ponies are also incredibly protective of their humans."

"How does this give me an edge?"

"Because, Crimsy! With the Black Horseshoes, you, as a tall, handsome, and rather unique human compared to wild humans, you'll fit in much better when EVERY human is rather unique!"

Crimson's eyes gleam in understanding. "Be able to hide in plain sight."

"Eeexactly! But use this information carefully. Try to keep it to yourself as much as possible. Things that are in the gang always stay in it, for good reason. Things will happen when everyone's ready for it. Last I heard, the laws restricting humans in public might be lifted soon. If something like that happens, humans of all kinds will be roaming around! Then you'll definitely be able to hide in plain sight!"

"Right. This is useful info, thanks Lippy."

"Of course, my lovely boy!-- Eeh!-- Eeeh... ehe..." Her mouth hangs open and her lips quiver, already anticipating being punched again. Crimson obviously doesn't look amused, but after a careful moment, she can tell he isn't going to get upset for a reactionary reply. She takes comfort in that fact and quickly relaxes.

"Speaking of that," he grips the collar that binds his neck, "how the hell do I get this shit off?"

"Oh! Right, the collar! L-Listen, I'm super, super sorry about it, I honestly thought I could take it off without it, but... ehehe... I wasn't lying to you about not having the key. It didn't have one when Lightheart was giving me boxes of old researcher equipment! If I had to guess, she might have it, or at least the know-how to get the collar off!"

With a tense sigh, the man rubs his forehead. He lets the idea sit. Lightheart will be able to give him the help he needs. Hopefully.

The muse doesn't leave his face. Now that he dons the clothes he first arrived in, his heart aches for the big question. "... Who sold you my clothes?"

"An old friend of mine did!"

"... Old friend?"

"Yup, yup! We don't really keep in touch, but she finds me when she needs me. Other than Lightheart, I think she's the only other pony that knows I'm alive. Despite being popular with the Black Horseshoes, I haven't seen any of their assassins knocking at my door, so I guess her knowing isn't something I'm worried about!"

"... H-Her name? Don't happen to know her name?"

"Sure do! -- Oh, I mean..." Her gaze nervously bounces left and right. "I-I'm not sure she'll appreciate me telling you her name--"

"Just tell me."

Lippy bites her lower lip in both trepidation and growing stimulation at being commanded so fiercely. "... Mmh-nh-- okay, okay. But don't tell anyone, Crimsy. Her name's Dahlia. Like the flower! She's a really introverted type."

"You, uh... don't happen to know where she might be?"

"No clue! Like I said, she doesn't really keep in touch. I used to know her when we were younger, back when I first joined the Horseshoes, but I guess she's off doing her own thing, just as she always does. It's been only business in these last years."

"She... ain't apart of the gang, is she?"

"Ooh, no! Not even close! She's a freelancer that only communicates with them if she needs to sell something she finds. She's notorious in the gang, almost like a shadow. You'd be surprised that nopony knows her name despite the repeated business. Maybe she does it on purpose? Secrecy and all that good stuff! That's why I was a bit hesitant to tell you, but... I guess you're looking to take on the gang anyway."

The man listens to what she speaks and takes it to heart, pondering the implications of the world around him. He hears the rainfall on the other side of the window but couldn't be given to see it. "... Say, why do you have them sheets over the glass? Secrets and all that?"

"The blankies? Oh no, they're for Autumn! She doesn't like the rain, and it sure does rain a lot out here! It makes her anxious and depressed, so I cover the windows!"

"Mm," he hums in acknowledgement. "... She asleep right now?"

"Like a foal!" Crimson keeps his eyes rested on the black drapes over the living room window. Lippy's jubilance droops to uncertainty at the weightiness of his silent pondering. Without notice, he rises from the couch and strides out of the living room, prompting her to get up and follow.

"She in here?" he asks as he arrives to the first door on the right of the hallway, the door adjacent to the room he was locked in.

"Last door," Lippy states.

He adheres and continues to the end of the hall, gripping the handle and pushing the door open softly. It squeaks annoyingly but not enough to wake the girl on the other side. Peeking in, he sees precious little Autumn tucked under her sheets in her bed. She naps soundly whilst surrounded by a plethora of stuffed animals and toys. The room is quite a chaotic mess, but probably organized exactly to her liking.

He walks steadily across the floor, trying to stifle the clack of his boots. At standing next to her bed, he notes that in the midst of the stuffed toys, she sleeps hugging one in specific. The pink bunny.

A weight on his chest causes him to squint bitterly. He leans down and gently plants a kiss on her head, thankfully getting no reaction in return. It's best that she stays asleep. Makes it easier on the both of them.

Standing back to full length, he cups his hands into fists and gives her one last stare. One last snapshot to burn permanently into his memory.

He turns and steps out of the room, passing by the heartfelt mare who watched his interaction. She follows him again into the room he was chained up in, where the man moves to the bed and takes the stuffed animal that was sitting idle on the pillow. It's small and squishy enough to fit perfectly inside his duster pocket without much intrusion. Making sure his coin purse is in his other pocket, he makes pace towards the front door.

He obviously notes Lippy following but he says no words to her. Not until she exclaims with a breath, "Hhey, Crimsy. It's still raining outside... we don't want the bunny to get wet now, do we? I've got a gift for you!" Attaining his silent curiosity, she grins sheepishly and runs off towards another room in the cabin that is not his nor Autumn's, the far left room in the hall. She returns shortly with garbs in hoof, stepping in front of him and offering these possessions. Crimson examines them, seeing a poncho-like hooded garb, surprisingly, a similar color to his duster coat, and a longer, silkier cloth that looks like a cloak. "You know how you asked me whether the Black Horseshoes knew you or not?"

Crimson nods.

"Well... if you're going into the deep end of the pond, I'd like to give you every chance possible to have an upper-hoof on them. Considering no one in the inner circle has ever seen you directly, you have some wiggle room. One of the best ways to take advantage of this is to become... not you! Eheh~"

Lifting his left brow, he takes both of the articles from her and gives them another look over. "... I'm listening."

"Great! So... here's what I was thinking..."

~~~<

With the hooded garb donned and the robe to shroud everything under the chin, he glances at Lippy's look for her approval.

"Perfect! As long as they don't see anything under it, you'll be perfectly perfect!"

"Right. And you said it's past the train station, right?"

"Yes! Looks like you're ready! ... Oh! And this! I know for a fact this will be useful!"

Lippy trots off to the kitchen and opens up her preserving bin. She scans around the bottom until she finds what she's looking for. Taking into her hoof, she shuts the bin and returns to him, presenting a detail-less metal sphere about the size of baseball with a button in the center. "Take this!"

Crimson furrows his brows. He takes it from her hoof and holds it. It isn't cold, more at room temperature.

"Open it!"

He does as she asks, squeezing the middle button so it pops open. Inside he sees some sort of green... "... Moss?" he questions.

"Not just any moss! Super Moss! It's one of the Black Horseshoes' inventions. I was able to steal it when I escaped, it's what I lived off of for an entire month!"

"... This? You lived off this?"

"Indeed, indeed! See, this moss actually grows back at a really incredible speed, it's packed with crazy vitamins and nutrition, and it hydrates you too! ... The, um... the only downside is that it tastes absolutely horrible."

"..." Crimson reaches his finger to the moss, taking some out and sticking it in his mouth. Lippy visibly cringes at watching him take in such a large glob. The man swashes it in his mouth for two seconds... "... Eegh!" he recoils and throws his head left and right, his entire face scrunches at the insanely salty substance.

Lippy puts her hoof in front of her muzzle and giggles. "I warned you!"

Fighting back the urge to spit it out, the man forces the moss down his throat. He shivers at feeling it go down, the taste itself still lingers in his mouth. "Eh, yeah... you did." He looks at the missing chunk of moss inside the ball. Nothing appears to be happening. "... So when does this grow back?"

"It takes about a day. And make veeery sure to close the ball when you're done, if you leave it open, it'll grow out and make a huge mess!"

"You said this stuff was full'a nutrients?"

"It sure is! Give it about... five more seconds."

Five seconds? Crimson looks between her and the moss, then to the ground. ...

...

"Woh, sheesh," the man's stomach growls. He isn't sure what's going on inside of him, but it sure does feel warm and good. While his taste buds didn't appreciate it, his body sure does. He places his hand over his belly and smirks in disbelief. "Feels like I ate a horse. 'M stuffed."

"The power of Super Moss!"

He smiles at the green mush before closing the ball and slipping it in his right outer pocket. "Stuff really is crazy. How's this not the talk of the town?"

"Like I said - the taste. As great as it is to keep you big and healthy, it... kinda tastes like the worst thing ever. It wasn't very popular within the gang, so it never made it out."

"Hmh, sounds like idiocy to me, this can singlehandedly solve a lot of the world's problems. ... Well... anyway..."

Knowing exactly what he's prompting, Lippy sighs despondently but keeps up her smile. "... Keep the bunny safe for Autumn."

"And you keep her safe fer me."

"Until the day I die, Crimsy... until the day I die."

With nothing more to add, he storms out of the cabin and into the howling rain.

Act 9: Wayward Anima

~ Las Pegasus, the Royal Research Tower ~<
March 23rd, Friday, 7:09

‎

Hands in his duster pockets, he waits patiently as the elevator ascends to the top of the Las Pegasus research lab. After a long slog from the Whinneypeg Mountains, he now finds himself again in the city of flashing lights.

His thoughts restlessly shift across what Lippy told him, even if he already had plenty of time to do so at his lonesome. Now that he nears the top of the building, he tunes in to the task at hand.

He hopes giving the bright minds of the research lab a visit will grant insight on the shadow gang, also hoping he'll be able to get the collar off from around his neck. Though he's prepared to be disappointed. In the end, it doesn't bother him as much as it should. He's lived most of his life not using his Arch, and if push comes to shove, he's got what it takes to drive a stake in the heart of this syndicate without it. He's done it once, he'll rightfully do it again.

Still, he needs information, and that's exactly what he hopes to receive now that the elevator rings out his arrival. He removes his hands from his pockets and strides forward, glancing around to see absolutely no one.

No, wait, he does see someone at the far end where the microscope is, just behind the cubical wall. They're mostly hidden behind said wall, but from what he can see, it isn't a mare - taller and bigger-framed. His boots clack along the tile floor, garnering the attention of this Robe before he actually shows himself. Crimson stops in surprise at who it is.

With a gasp, "C-C-Crimson!?" the stallion stammers wildly.

"Magnifyin' Glass? Well, now. Didn't expect this."

"Oh-Wuh-- Y-Yes! My thoughts exactly! Long time no see! What are you doing in Las Pegasus? ... Is that a researcher cloak? I'm surprised pony clothes could fit a human so well. Are you finally looking to join the team?"

Crimson chuckles lightly, "Not in this lifetime. Just have it on while I do some errands fer a friend. Lightheart wouldn't be in today, would she?"

"Nope! It's Saturday, the researchers don't gather on Saturdays! Plus, she's out on a field op gathering materials for her next project - far in the east near Griffonstone. She won't be back for at least a week."

Crimson holds back his urge to groan displeasure. It's a good thing his expectations weren't high to begin with. "... Right. Maybe you can help me, then. With this," he grabs the neck of his robe and reveals the device underneath.

Magnifying doesn't get a particularly good look at what's being shown, but he assumes it must be, "A collar?" Crimson nods. "... I don't like where this is going."

With an agitated sigh he shakes his head, "Nothin' like that. I'm tryin' to get it off. It ain't no run-of-the-mill brace, it's a nullifier collar. Least, that's what I was told. Needs a special key." As Crimson speaks, Magnifying's eyes become broader and broader. "Wouldn't happen to know anythin' about this, would ya'?"

"Nullifier collar? Special key?" he freezes for a moment, afraid, but it changes to a trembly smirk as he shakes his head rapidly, "n-no, I've never heard of such a thing! Wh-nh... s-say, does the collar... prevent you from using magic? -- Or, well, in this case, your Arch?"

"Kinda."

His brows raise to his forehead and his pique brightens. "Really!?"

"T's why I need it off."

"If you can't find the key, could you... break it, maybe?"

"It fixes itself when it gets damaged."

"Ah! Ahahaha! Aha! Aha-- ahergh-herh... eeh..." His laughter turns to uncomfortable grunting as a fierce squint prods at him. "M-My apologies, I'm not sure what came over me there! I do wish I could have been of more use, but as I said, I've never heard of such a thing. W-Where did you even get it? Does it have something to do with this friend of yours that gave that robe?"

"Just some experiments gone wrong, long story that I'd rather not recant. Nevermind, don't worry about it, I'll figure somethin' out," he pulls the robe to cover everything up again. "So what's yer type doin' 'round these parts if you Robes don't congregate today?"

"Me?" he stops in his tracks. "Oh, I-I was... uuh... d-definitely not using Consortium property to investigate a personal matter! Ehehehehe..."

Crimson raises his left brow and crosses his arms. He glances at the microscope and sees a small puddle of clear-ish liquid on the tray.

"... P-Please don't tell anypony that I was here. Please. I-I'm here trying to figure out what's in my saliva that makes my breath smell so bad! Do you know how embarrassing it would be if the Consortium had me make a report on that?"

"Who told you yer breath smells bad? I certainly ain't whiffin' it."

"..." The bashful stallion rubs his left hoof up and down across the tile, "... M-Moonlight did."

A spear strikes his heart. "... She, uh... said yer breath smells?"

Magnifying swallows and nods timidly. "Not directly, mind you! She is way too kind to be so direct, but... I can tell from her reactions."

"... Heh. Good to see you two still pickin' it up. ... How's she doin' anyway?"

"Moonlight?" he repeats with a beam of glee. "She's doing great! I-It's been a while since I've seen her so happy!"

Crimson's gaze falls to the ground despondently, though he keeps up his simper. "Glad to hear it. ... The, uh... the heart attack didn't cause anythin' permanent, did it?"

"No, fortunately! The doctors said she'd make a full recovery after some therapy. Lo and behold, she did! She's been doing amazing ever since!" Magnifying's growing beam stagnates, then tones down to a lopsided grin. Concern is clearly written on the man's face. "... And before you ask, she isn't mad at you, Crimson."

His hazel eyes lift up with a gleam.

"We actually had a talk about you a while ago. It was mostly her being... upset. Venting. Lots of complaints."

Crimson cringes internally as Magnifying continues.

"... Most of it was getting things off her chest. Nothing you haven't heard, I bet. Things like: you don't take care of yourself, she can't handle the stress, she'll be alone forever, etcetera. Not that her anger is misplaced, but it became a little overbearing. I let her know that you care for her! Well, reminded her, more like. Despite it all, you're her friend, and she's your friend!"

"Yeah. Friend," he echoes to assure himself.

"Indeed! She was very upset at you after Celestia's decree. The first few days with it in effect were the hardest. But it only took a little time and reminding that everything you did was for her. Now she always has this little smile on her face!" He mimics it in a less than flattering fashion, though it gets the point across.

"You don't know how much I appreciate you stickin' up fer me, Magnifyin'. Hearin' this's makin' me feel loads better. Soothes that pit in my gut just a little."

"Hehey, it's no problem at all! It actually made me feel better too!"

"And, uh... speakin' of Celestia's decree. Anythin' on that?" The stallion frowns and turns away. "... Reckoned. Damn thing will never get lifted."

"I-I hate to say it, but... it doesn't seem like it will. At least, not in the near future. A-As I said, Moonlight is doing very well right now! Maybe a bit antsy since she hasn't had anything new to tackle in the last few weeks, but all in all, she's better than ever!"

"Hmh... glad to hear it."

"Indeed!" A brief silence passes between them, broken soon by Magnifying clearing his throat. "So... you came to Las Pegasus just to figure out how to get the collar off?"

"Yeah, but the only pony that'd might know ain't here. 'N you said she won't be back for nearly a week."

"T-That's a shame."

"A cryin' one. But it wasn't the only reason I came. I was lookin' for a little insight too."

"Hopefully I can help this time!"

"You 'n me both. ... How much you know about the Black Horseshoes?"

The scribe's brows crinkle his forehead. "I really hope you're not planning on doing what I think you're doing."

"Won't poke the bee's nest if I don't have to. Just need a little info, is all."

"... Looks like I'm of no use after all. Unfortunately, I don't know the first thing about them! I've spent my whole life in Canterlot, occasionally traveling to the other major cities. The world outside is foreign to me."

Under his robe, Crimson shoves his hands back into his duster pockets and looks out of the windows to the world outside. He eyes past the city's floating edge towards the south, down to the desert Slums below. Miles of ramshackle buildings and structures litter the brown-sanded land, and a dense fog surrounds its atmosphere like a dome. He won't wait until tomorrow to make a move, he wasted enough time coming to the city. Once he's done in Las Pegasus, he'll get a balloon down to ground level.

But that's after he's sated his curiosities.

"Got a question fer you."

"Third time's the charm!" the stallion replies with gusto.

"If you were to close yer eyes and picture me in yer head, what sticks out the most?"

"Oh, now, that's an interesting inquiry. Let's see..." the stallion shuts his eyelids together and focuses, "... tall. T-shirt. Backwards red hair. Scowling face."

"Use a single word to describe me."

"... Uuum..." he ponders for a second, "... red. Definitely red. Red hair, red shirt. Red. Yup! Red! Very fitting since it's in your name!"

Lippy was exactly right. That was also the word she used, even if Crimson didn't fully agree with it. "Appreciate the input. ... You can open yer eyes now."

The stallion blinks quickly, having forgotten that he had closed them in the first place. "Heh," he lowers his head and chuckles gingerly.

Another moment of silence breezes through the lab. Crimson stargazes out to the deserts of west Equestria, just past the slums. "What does Moonlight think of me?" he asks without looking over.

"... Um... what she thinks of you? In terms of...?"

"Generally."

"... W-Well, like I said, she was pretty upset at you for being negligent. She hasn't told me anything outside of that, except that she isn't upset anymore. If I'm being frank, you are a topic she seldom discusses, almost as if she'd forgotten about you. I couldn't be sure what she really thinks."

Crimson squints. "Forgive 'n forget, huh."

"In this case, it may be more than just a phrase."

"Can't hurt her if she don't think of me... smart." He flaps his arms a bit to feel the content in his inner duster pocket press against his chest, the small plushie that invokes his pathos.

"... I can tell there's a lot you need to say," Magnifying smiles trepidly, confidently admiring Crimson's expression since he isn't directly looking back at him. "I'd be more than willing to listen to your opinions if you'd want to share."

"Ain't to opine, just reminisce. I do that a lot. Do it too often."

"What's the old think tank bringing up?"

"Just... Moonlight. How we met. How I got 'er to come back to Canterlot. Still remember that field day we had."

"The one with the dragon?"

"The very one. ... Actually, looks like I do got an opinion I'd like to share with the class. Magnifying... since you've been frank with me, mind if I do the same?"

"Not at all! I'm all ears!"

"Celestia sent me 'n Moonlight to that farmin' village to scope out a magic anomaly. Sure you know all about that."

"I sure do! I was the second to read Moonlight's report after Celestia! I know all of the details regarding that field operation!"

"Then you might know that the town was already a crisp when Moonlight 'n I got there."

"That's what the report said, yes."

"... Ain't it a convenience that we got there a good bit after the village was totaled? Not a breathin' soul was left, just embers. Embers that seemed like they've been burnin' fer more than a few hours. Got me thinkin'... Celestia sent us out there even though she knew a dragon attacked. Hell, call me crazy, but I'm fixin' to believe there weren't no damn anomaly at all. Just a ploy to get us to face that lizard. Moonlight's little ANA thingy didn't squeal once. Not a thing was found in that town. What we did find was after the fact." He finally turns from the distant Slums towards Magnifying to gauge his reaction to what was said. Immediately, the stallion shoots his eyes away with a look of ingrained guilt. Crimson's brows furrow at seeing this quaint reaction.

The weighty gaze starts pressing Magnifying deeply. He purses his lips and ogles the tile just under Crimson. "Eh-Ehehehe... we're being frank right now, right?" Crimson sternly nods once. "Allow m-me to reciprocate! There is a... sensitive bit of information that I-I hope won't leave this room. Will it?"

"Everythin' that's spoken in this here lab won't be leavin' its walls."

The scribe visibly relaxes at hearing the sincerity of his promise. He takes in a broad breath and releases it just as slowly. "So, that field op. It... wasn't what you thought it was. Or, at least, what was told to you. It wasn't an operation to find traces of a magical anomaly. It was... an assessment. A test from Princess Celestia herself. As you already know, a talking human with enigmatic magics appearing out of thin air put a lot of ponies through a loop. The fact that this entity wound up with the Princess of Equestria's prized pupil was problematic, to say the least. There were too many variables to be had by our Consortium to safely have someone like you being this close to Moonlight. This next part wasn't detailed in her report, she verbally spoke of this to me... but do you recall when you first met Celestia? And she asked you to leave the throne room?"

"Yeah. To give her 'n Moonlight some personal time?"

"Precisely. Together, they spoke among many topics that Moonlight bothered not to elaborate with me. But the main affair of this 'personal time' was questions regarding you. To be expected, of course."

Crimson's brows line the top of his eyes as they fall to the ground, listening intently.

"More specifically, a plan to test you. See, the day after you met Celestia, the same day Moonlight had you retrieve her blueprint from the lab, the dragon you faced had just attacked Whitetail Wheat - the farming village you visited. Scouts quickly retrieved this information and reported it back to Her Highness."

"And she found it fit to throw me 'n Moonlight right into the jaws of that firebreathin' beast."

"... Yes."

Crimson sucks in a frustrated breath through his nose. "Why the hell would Celestia throw us under the bull like that?"

"Cor-Correction, it was YOU they... 'threw under the bull.' Equal parts Moonlight and Princess Celestia. T-They both agreed on this."

Crimson turns his face directly to the stallion, piercing him with angst. "... What do you mean?"

"Well, Moonlight she-- ... uh, uhm..." he turns away from the man's fiery stare, too intimidated to talk while facing him, "w-wasn't actually in-in any d-danger. Moonlight is-is-- she's one of the best spell casters w-we know! S-She might not look it, but her potential with magic is absurd! Moonlight, eheh," he points his hoof into the air to exaggerate his point, still keeping his eyes faced away, "is one of the few masters of translocation in this generation! A prototype spell that is soon to make it into magic academies all over Equestria!"

"Layman's terms, Magnifyin'."

"B-Basically, Moonlight has the ability to magically teleport herself from one place to another, up to fifty meters away! Probably further away now if she's been practicing!"

The stupor sets in.

Magnifying Glass shifts his orbs to the man's, seeing that he finally looked away. Confidently returning eyes his way again, the stallion chuckles stiffly, "I-Indeed. Moonlight and Celestia elaborated this scheme with all of this in mind. With everything Moonlight gathered in her time with you at Baltimare, she knew that you were quite powerful. A human who could lift five times their body weight? The suspicions of power magic? It was no debate both she and the Princess supposed that you would be a good addition to the Guard - which itself is another story entirely since you rejected joining them. Regardless, the table was set. A test to see if you proved worthy enough to be embraced into Equestria's society, given the record of humans. In reality, nopony ever expected you to kill the dragon. The assumption was that you'd escape and protect Moonlight while doing it. An evaluation of your litmus to see if you wouldn't run away or abandon her. In the event that you did try running away without her, or you were killed by the dragon... Moonlight was never truly in any harm. She would have simply translocated away to safety."

The words mesh in his brain. He can't believe it. He doesn't want to believe it. "... But... Moonlight..." he trails off briefly, moving to rest himself against the cubical wall, "... she ran away slow 'n... with her bags full'a books. Dragon almost got 'er."

Magnifying Glass quivers internally before uttering out, "... All an act. All apart of the test. To make Moonlight seem like she was unable to protect herself in order to have your reaction to danger unadulterated. This factor, her ability to reach safety in an instant, was the only reason this test was ever agreed to. Your own safety was... never considered. If I may, it was a silly plan to begin with. The fact that Celestia would only send ONE guard with a prized researcher into potential danger? The scheme was a little on the nose."

"... Ah can... hardly believe it..." Crimson grips his forehead, his pin-prick pupils trembling at the ground. "... I was used."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't catch that." Magnifying Glass rears close since the man whispered between his lips.

"Played with like a toy," he speaks up, lifting his shuddering eyes with an atheistic smile. "Used up... now'm bein' thrown away. That what yer sayin'?"

"I-I... wouldn't take that stance entirely-- n-not that there isn't truth behind it! Besides, you two were able to find a magical artifact in the end! A-And! And! I-I'd like to think you and Moonlight really are friends!"

"Hyeah?" he grins a little wider. "What about Celestia? Her angel. That what I am to her?"

To this, Magnifying Glass only purses his lips and turns his face to the floor.

"... Heh. Heheh." Crimson brings his index finger and his thumb to his eyes, rubbing them with a good bit of pressure. A certain moistness coats his fingertips.

"Crimson, li-listen, I'm... sorry you had to hear all this. Pl-Please don't think of anyone involved differently now than you did when you first walked into the lab. It was all safety precautions. You understand."

"... Nah," the man removes his hand from his face and reveals his glistening eyes, still smiling depressively. "I'll fuckin' think about them differently. But I'll pretend I don't. If I ever see 'em again, I got a pair'a masks to veil it. Not like that's a problem, right? They've obviously got their own. Reckon you've got yours too. ... We all wear masks, right?"

Mouth agape, Magnifying has no response. Crimson's expression, one which paints a hollow muse, induces fidgeting discomfort.

"Like I promised you, Glassy-boy..." he turns around to give the scribe his back, "not a word will be leavin' these walls."

"... C-Crimson, I--"

The man ignores him and strides to the elevator, effectively ending the conversation. The deep moue on Magnifying Glass watches him step in and pull the lever. The doors of the lift close together at the middle to officiate his departure.

‎ ‎

~~~<

‎ ‎

"This the place?" Crimson nonchalantly inquires.

"Yes, my angel," the Las Pegasus Royal Guard responds seriously while scanning eyes across the crowd of ponies looking to mob Crimson. "Worry not, we will temporarily bar clients from entering."

"Appreciate it." He looks up at the sign that illustrates the front of the shop. Among the loud and boisterous shopping district, the guards escorted him to a barber that Lippy keyed him in on. A human enthusiast, one who actually doesn't own any herself.

It's a rather modest building in the wave of over-decorated stores, only a few labels of text and a hanging sign to inform what kind of business this is. He walks to the silky curtains that act as the door, pushing them apart to be encompassed by the thick air of hair products and perfume.

As he walks in, both the three mares working on clients and the clients themselves stop what they are doing to ogle him. He glares at them back with disinterest. It's a fairly standard establishment with chairs to his left and right, four total - two on either side, after the unoccupied receptionist desk which is in the center of the shop. On the far end is a thick veil of silk which does not allow vision to the other side. Many paintings and showcases demonstrating potential hairstyles are littered about, both pony and human, along with potted plants and colored lights.

The human hairstyles give the man hints in why this barber was advocated by Lippy, but he feels that this isn't the whole reason why. He'll find out soon enough, he supposes.

Another quick shot to the products littered across both the front counter and the work stations of each barber detail tons of potential. Countless blades and razors, shampoos, conditioners, dyes, perfumes and colognes... and... a certain little purple spray bottle with an all-too familiar design, where each barber has their own sitting at their table.

"MOLLY!" "MOLLY!" "MOLLY!"

The three barber mares shout at the same time to Crimson's surprise, garnering his widened eyes. His brows furrow as the silk at the far end is parted to reveal a rather bombastic unicorn, one who shoots her pupils around to finally lock onto him. Her reaction is expectantly astonished. The man sees that her mane is combed in a queen-bee approach while the clothing she dons is every sort of color in the spectrum, pieced together with silk and string. Expensive, yet he finds the actual execution stupid looking. Her coat is a light teal, while her mane is a gradient ranging from a blonde orange at the top to pink at the bottom tips.

"Dear me," the exuberant mare with an accent murmurs. "The one and only in my own wax. Dear angel."

The man nods, "Crimson, if you will. Molly, I presume? Owner of this establishment?"

"In the flesh~"

"Great. Just lookin' for some service. Caught wind of this place and figured I'd drop by."

"Safe to assume you don't have an appointment?~"

"Hope that ain't a bother."

"We don't normally do walk-ins, but... I'll be more than happy to personally take your styling over yonder~"

"Beautiful gal like yerself ain't need worry 'bout me, more than willin' to wait in line."

She bats her eyelids with a discreet blush. "Well, now, you'd be doing me a disservice turning me down~"

"Oh dear, can't have that happenin', can we?"

With a giggle, she tilts her head to the silk which she came from. For once this elevated treatment will serve a purpose, the pieces of the puzzle are coming together. Now Crimson just needs to make sure he doesn't screw this up somehow.

He walks past the admiring gaze of the clients and floor workers to the heated gaze of the shop owner. He gives a quick glancing to the clients and the barbers... and grins at them before disappearing behind the silk.

The unicorn known as Molly uses her magic to open up the thick silk and usher his entrance. She follows just behind him and lets it close, sealing off their silhouettes to the world outside. Crimson gestures his hand to allow her to walk ahead, and well for it, Molly leads down the multi-colored light hallway towards a split end. Arriving at this t-split, he notes it to be a restroom to his left, a storage room to his right, and another silken doorframe to his front. This particular silk is semi-translucent, giving unclear forms and shapes on the other side. Judging from the formation of the room and its articles, it's a bedroom.

A sly glance into the storage room is all he needs to form his course of action.

The mare turns around and blinks her overly-tuned eyelashes at him. "So... Equestria's talk comes to my humble abode. A special occasion, I presume?"

"Nothin' outta the ordinary, just lookin' to get the ol' mop spruced up."

"Ho, is that it?" He nods once. "And here I thought I had my work cut out for me~"

"I like your confidence."

"Years of experience, honey~"

"Then," he takes a step closer, looming his height over her brazenly. "I reckon you've taken all kinds of requests. Maybe somethin' out from the uncanny valley?"

Her brows raise as her eyelids droop sultrily. "Certainly wouldn't be the first time. Should we take this matter... inside?~ The walls have eyes, they say," she tilts her head and coyly grins.

"That they do."

She begins to backpedal towards the room, swaying her hips in a very immodest fashion. Her chubby rear pushes apart the silk and it hides her once she crosses it, prompting Crimson to come in after her.

He observes this room. It comes off as an office-bedroom hybrid, where a clear desk area with intricate paperwork is found at the far left corner. The bed is located at the far center, and around it, all sorts of pony and human mannequin heads are scattered about to display potential styles. She certainly practices her art. The entire room dons a pink and light blue color scheme, with greens and purples scattered about in paintings and furnishings. The scent wafted from this room is very... lewd. Difficult to explain, but very bodily.

"Seen anything you like?~" the mare asks, motioning her arm at the mannequin heads about.

Crimson faints uncaring to the displayed styles. He lazily scans his eyes around to wind them up at Molly again. "All very nice, but... I think I like what I see here better."

"Hoo no, honey... you don't want any of this~"

"When I want somethin', everythin' else comes second. ... Though..."

"Mm?~" She quickly lifts her brows in lustful inquiry.

"... I'd much love to be presentable to a kind of the caliber, if you'd allow my type to put up a quick preparation. Ain't exactly fitting the scene, now am I?" he hints to his scruffed up backwards flowing hair.

"You certainly know how to make a mare feel special~"

"Only because you are. I saw that there storage room had a comb, reckon some gel too. Would you be so kind as to give me a minute to prepare?"

"Who am I to stop you?~"

"Hmh. I'll be sure to pay you in kind."

"Ohohoho, bits ain't what I'm after, honey." The fierce grin on her front twinkles. "Plenty of those in the Sin City... you help yourself and give me your best. And do come back with that silly ol' garb off, look like one of the Robes in the towers, you do. I'm dying to see what's underneath~"

He looks at the dark blue cloth that shrouds his clothes under. Facing her again the man returns a rather heated simper, "Tragedy if I disappoint." He paces backwards to the silk doorway. "You 'n yer lovely face give me a moment."

"All the time in the world~" Molly murmurs before giggling and moving to her bed. As the man leaves, she immediately begins fidgeting with her dress, making sure it's loose at the essential points on her body to allow a seamless naked-ing. Once satisfied, she climbs onto the bed and sets herself up for foreplay.

Immediately dropping the act, Crimson faces away from the bedroom and scowls, internally disgusted at himself. His neck snaps to the storage room...

... perfect.

He strides into the room, dimly lit by a window that has a blue silk drape over it, barely letting sunlight come through. He parts the silk from the middle to let more light shine onto the products that are housed around. He takes a step back and runs his eyes across the shelves of the walls to his front and back, gauging what would suit him best. Mostly for himself, not for the easy leg-spreader currently waiting for him.

He deeply hopes he won't have to go through with this charade all the way, but he's prepared to if push comes to shove. He needs what she has and will go through the rodeo to get it.

He finds it a shame he can't read or understand what a bottle or can is reading off to him, everything is written in Ponish, though he has the sense enough to infer depending on the pictures and colors demonstrated. He carefully analyzes each product, attracted to mostly the paste container of black coloration. He knows for a fact he'll be taking that.

As he glazes through the products to find another contender, a very specific design draws his attention. On the far right of the shelves, on the middle-most shelf, there is a uniform set of a dozen purple little spray bottles that are completely void of any text or picture. Staring at it immediately disgusts him.

... But an insane idea strikes fire.

He returns his glare to the black paste. He prays it is what he thinks it is and he takes it quickly, opening his robe to slip it inside his duster's inner pocket. He then takes one of the tranquilizer potion bottles and holds it carefully with both hands. He darts his eyes around him with a squint to review his coast... all clear. He aims the bottle towards the ceiling and holds it high.

He sucks in a deep breath, holds it, and sprays one, two, three, four, five, six times upwards before quickly setting the potion back down where it was and stepping out of the storage room. He melds his frantic escape into a confident stride, keeping his breath held until he steps back through the silk into Molly's bedroom. He discretely exhales and puts up a wry smile.

The mare appears rather confused at seeing his hair still styled the same way and the floppy robe still donned. "Oh? Find anythin' you like, hun?"

"Browsin', saw somethin' I fancied. Won't spoil it, wanna keep it a surprise, but... wanted to let you know the storage room was makin' a sort'a strong scent. Like spilled paint 'r somethin'."

"Paint...? Oh no, it better not be another cracked dye, I swear! Those damn postal ponies get more and more reckless." She rises from the bed with an angry pout and huffs, straightening her dress again. "Let me just check on this real quick, hun, I'll be just a second."

"Not a worry in the world, I'll be waitin'~'

Her upset purse lights for a suggestive smile at his charm. She excuses herself with a wink and slips past the silk, disappearing from sight.

...

"EACK!"

And thus ensues the coughing fit, followed after by a mass hitting the ground.

Again holding his breath, he walks quickly to the storage room and glances down the hall. None of the other stylists heard a thing. Pacing to the unconscious mare, he covers his mouth with his right hand and uses his left to grab her and throw her on his shoulder. He paces hastily back to the bedroom and rests her down on the bed. He releases his held breath and sighs.

... Now to make this more believable. He moves to make a nice mess of the bed, moving the sheets down and wrinkling them, lurching pillows and tossing a few off the side.

Giving attention to the mare herself, he proceeds to slip off her dress, or at least attempt to. It's problematic design makes it a hassle to get it off, but with enough resolve and minor stretching, he succeeds. He tosses it to the side and glances around the room for one more candidate to this scandalous deception.

Excellent.

He moves to the collection of roses near the desk and takes a few out from the pack. Bringing them back to the foot end of the bed, he begins plucking individual petals off of them and sets them down on the carpet so that when she rises from slumber, the first thing she'll see is a heart made of petals. If this doesn't trick her in believing she had a night of debauchery, nothing will. Though through experience, the tranquilizer will make her believe anything.

Satisfied with his presentation, he turns to take his leave. Coming across the silk into the main shop, eyes are again laid upon him by the deathly-curious barber mares. Seems like their clients are still present as well, the same ones from before. Crimson bounces his stare between them and pretends to adjust himself under the cloak. With a cheeky grin, he chuckles, "Don't let Molly know I said this, but she could do for more endurance."

Bloodpumping blushes form across the faces around. With the same confident grin, the man steps out of the shop and into the circle of guards that hold back the paparazzi.

"Satisfied with your shopping experience, my angel?" the guard that spoke to him before inquires as he faces the crowd angrily.

"Thoroughly. I'll be headin' out."

"Team, hot air balloons," he commands the guards around him. They acknowledge his order and stomp their pikes on the ground, commencing their uniform movement while crowd-controlling the wild ponies.

Musing and serious, Crimson travels across the bustling city under their protection. Eventually they reach the southern edge of Las Pegasus where the hot air balloons are amassed. He notes that he is lured to the same platform that he arrived in the first time as a member of the Royal Guard, somber and reminiscent to the experience. ... Almost seems like yesterday.

The current team guiding him salutes the guards posted at the balloons, to which they relinquish him to them. The team about-faces and marches off, leaving him in new care. These guards salute, with a taller, robust stallion walking to the front. "My angel," he honors, "departing Las Pegasus?"

"Yeah."

"Right this way," he turns around promptly and walks to the stationed balloon with its basket door already opened. Crimson follows him in, where he and another guard mare manning the engine are the only three aboard. The stallion glances at Crimson briefly before facing forward again. "Your attire is that of the Royal Researchers, my angel. It is interesting to see."

"Been gettin' a few looks because of it. Finished up some errands before I head back to the labs, hopefully get this thing off. Ain't really my style."

"I'd say it suits you," the mare manning the engine comments with a careless grin, which elicits a stern glare from her superior.

"It is good to see that you have become apart of an important organization, my angel. You are returning to Canterlot?" the stallion infers.

"Yup," the man indifferently assures. "Exhausted. Can't wait to lie down."

"I can only imagine. A man such as yourself must be incredibly busy."

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"If you see Captain Winter again, give her my greetings."

'Again'... hmh. "Name?"

"Captain Merit."

"Will do, Cap'n Merit."

He nods with a stern smile at his request being accepted. The guard mare raises the burn on the engine and the balloon lifts from the ground. The ride down to earth-level passes quietly. When the balloon touches the grass, Captain Merit moves to open the basket door and salutes, and the mare does as well.

"Much appreciated," Crimson thanks them both.

"Of course, my angel," the captain acknowledges. "Safe travels to Canterlot."

The man steps off the balloon and shoots his eyes to his left horizon. The Las Pegasus junction can be seen about a quarter of a mile away down a dirt path. He begins a slow pace towards it, and once he begins moving, the balloon roars behind him and ascends.

He continues his leisurely pace... until the balloon disappears up over the edge of the city. He immediately changes direction and kicks into a dash, his boots crunch the grass and dirt as he runs towards the border of trees that surround the station. He glares left and right while moving to make sure no one or nothing is watching him. He disappears into the forestry but keeps running, choosing to be safe instead of sorry.

Once he's deep enough and the humidity peaks, he halts with elevated breaths from his nose. He analyzes his environment with a squint.

Nothing. Deeper then.

With a brisk walk, he continues into the forestry. He knows there isn't much green left before the grass is replaced with sand, the only hope right now is that he'll find what he's looking for. Considering how humid it is in this particular density, there's bound to be one. Lippy even said so, especially this time of year.

He keeps walking, hoping his luck didn't run out. He stomps shrubs and leaves, moves tree limbs, wanders through the lush with squinted eyes. Still nothing. He knows he can't travel too far in one direction. He kicks the dirt several times to make a hole a few inches deep, leaving it as a point of reference before turning around and heading the opposite direction.

The familiarity around comes to an end at reaching an unexplored point. He pulls branches off and chucks them, kicks stray pebbles that rest near his steps. He notes a certain glow not far ahead, implying that the sun is reflecting off of something inside a clearing. He thinks he might have lucked out. Unable to see the floor of the clearing due to the forestry, he speeds to a jog to arrive sooner.

Satisfaction encompasses him. Leaping over a taller shrub, he lands into the clearing that holds a natural pond. He steps to its edge and squats down. He gazes at his reflection for a moment, admiring not himself, but how crisp and pure the water is. It's a shame he has to ruin it.

He throws another paranoid glance around him, making sure there aren't onlookers not around nor above him. All clear.

With a sigh, he moves his arms from under his robe to release the neck clip and free himself of it. Next he slips the poncho over his head and removes it as well, dropping it atop the robe. He moves for his inner duster pocket, taking out the black paste he stole and sets it down. He continues to remove his clothes until he has nothing but his pants and boots on, stacking it all safely away from the water.

He examines the paste. The picture printed on it is of a mare's head silhouette with a white mane which gradients into black, implying the dye's color.

He comes down onto his knees, uncaps the bottle, and removes the tin film that preserves it. Setting it all down at his side, he leans forward to stare at his reflection again for a few seconds.

With a deep inhale, he dunks his head into the water, getting it completely soaked. Emerging out, he keeps his eyes closed until he rubs them. The water is disturbed, his reflection is incomprehensible.

Keeping his head over the water to drip in peace, he reaches for the bottle and digs his fingers to scoop out a mass of black paste. Setting it back down, he rubs his hands together to spread it equally. Like rubbing shampoo in, he digs his fingers into his scalp.

‎

~~~<

‎

He viciously rubs his fingers to get the black substance off. It's mostly removed, leaving only a few traces of black around his fingernails. He takes the robe from the pile of clothes and begins rubbing his forehead, ears, and neck, removing the same black stains. He tosses back the ruined robe carelessly and leans forward... he lets the water settle.

He gazes into his reflection again. It's perfect. And considering how damn difficult it was to get off his skin, he figures it'll stay this way for as long as he needs it.

He holds that his belated anonymity is still functional enough to keep him off the grid. With plenty of new faces to see, he reckons it'll be enough.

He shakes his head with a growing grin, staring at himself with a degree of descant. "Almost look like Vigil. Heh. ... Wouldn't mind if I borrowed yer name, big brother?" He almost expects the reflection to reply, something smart and snarky like his brother always would.

It doesn't. His grin slowly fades into his resting expression. He keeps staring at himself... for quite a while.

New Skin

~ Equestria, the Western Grasslands ~<
March 23rd, Friday, 16:49

‎

He sits alone at the ponds edge; cool humid air of the afternoon brushes against his bare back, the leaves rustle their off-beat tune. He looks up at the sky, seeing the sun just past the midway point.

It's only been a few minutes but it feels like he's sat for longer. He reckons it'll be a while before the dye fully sets into his hair, he'll have some time to kill.

He glances around in bored curiosity, at his duster and cloak, the bottle of dye paste, then the robe he tossed behind. He gets to thinking he'll have to discard the robe since Las Pegasus beheld it. He might just bury it in the ground.

Though, a peculiar thought pops into mind. The dye he wiped off his skin using the robe caused it to stain pretty badly. Almost permanently, if he had to guess. No manner of washing would fully get it out.

He reaches for the robe and pulls it to him. He analyzes the stains, they look completely dry. The deep blue cloth now presents a black camo. Rubbing his thumb on the stains, it doesn't come onto his finger or distort.

He leans towards the pond and gets his index finger wet, then takes it to the stains of the robe. He moistens the stains and rubs them again, his brows raise in dull shock that the stains are still stubborn. Eyes bouncing to the bottle of paste itself, he notes that there's plenty left. Shooting attention to his duster and cloak, the stray idea becomes a plausibility.

He internally regrets asking the Royal Tailors to give a homage to his original working clothes, the colors are nearly identical. Though the design itself was a bit off, plus now he has Lippy's hooded poncho to further disrupt the pattern. It may be a very minor change, but straying as far away from familiarity is essential.

He hopes he doesn't completely ruin his clothes doing this.

‎

~~~<

‎

He props his damp duster up upon a tree limb so it rests undisturbed, thereafter he adds his poncho next to it. He steps back and looks at them from a few feet away, admiring how well it came out. Both the brown coat and hood now don a dark grey tinge. He wished it was a little darker, but the dye's chemical properties didn't paint the clothes in the same way it did his hair. Regardless, it works. Very well, in fact. Whatever this dye is made with, it works like magic.

Satisfied, he walks back towards the pond. His eyes trail to the empty paste bottle and the robe, then the water. It still looks rather clean and sparkly despite his muddling. He examines himself to note the mess of black dye riddling his arms.

He proceeds to kick off his boots and take off his socks, unhitch and unloop his belt, then pull off his slacks. He throws them a neat distance away so they stay clean, then he moves to dip his feet into the water. Cool, but not cold. Just right.

He brings his naked rear down into the water and sits on the dirt floor of the pond. He claws himself with his nails to scratch his skin back to cleanliness.

‎

~~~<

‎

He pats his shoulders and sleeves down to let them sit. The blackened duster fits a little stiffly, but as he wrinkles it, it readjusts to his shape. He then throws on the hooded poncho to complete his set, making sure it rests properly around his shoulders and back. He then pockets the metal ball which acts as his sustenance, his brimming coin purse, and the little red bunny, being extra cautious with his handling of it as if it were to fall apart if breathed upon.

Bringing his hands to his hair, he scruffs it up so more of it falls over his face, making the forward half come over his eyes and nose while keeping the back half flowing in its natural direction. He knows he's overdue for a haircut, but in a case like this, he's glad he hasn't gotten one. Because of how long his hair is, it completely shades his eyes, making the possibility of identifying him more difficult.

He looks up to the sky again, between the slits of his hair. Daylight's running thin. If he wants to make it to the Slums before nightfall, he'll need to move soon. From what he estimated with his view from Las Pegasus, it should be about a mile south. Clothes donned, mask worn, he shoves his hands in his pockets and paces towards the desert.

‎

~~~<

‎

Crickets chirp, the wind hums steadily. The day has traded itself for night, the blue light shines down upon the earth meticulously. His boots crunch loose dirt as he walks, the forest behind him becomes distant.

Just out ahead he sees his goal, though barely. A dense and suffocating fog surrounds the Slums. The dirt under him turns to sand, and as suspected, the temperature gets even colder, the air turns heavy and polluted. Deserts, an inferno in the day, an artic at night. Fumes from drugs, and the residents of this shit hole burning woods and rubbers to keep themselves warm. The sight is more desperate than anything he's seen back home.

He glances around while walking. Many shambled, run-down, shanty buildings made of wood, adobe, and cheap cloths litter the land. Shoddily paved roads filled with sand give the place some sense of direction, but also an untamed air. He sees no signs of life anywhere; they’re either hiding, asleep, or simply not here. He wouldn’t doubt he’s being stalked from inside the pitch-black shacks around. As the vanished sun no longer shines, the moon does a terrible job at illuminating the murk.

His boots kick up sand as he continues through the unlit streets. His attention is drawn to a light over yonder, an amber, dim light. Walking further, the light appears to be a candle, lit and placed randomly in the street. He sees another candle just up ahead. More and more candles.

Crimson nearly gets startled as he notices a silent, angry looking old pony sitting in between a cubby formed by two adjacent shacks. The old hag stares at the man with one widely opened eye. She looks very, very unhealthy.

The man now sees more and more beings roaming around - zebras, ponies, camels, and griffons, all forming a depressive, ghetto community. The deeper he traverses, the more beings present themselves. The residents gawk at him. They eye his well-made clothing; they focus on the jingling going on from the pouch of bits in his inner pocket.

Crimson ignores the crowd, deciding to deal with problems if they come rather than start any of his own. To his pleasant surprise, all they do is mutter to each other and watch. The restraint of these peasants is somehow greater than that of the common folk from the cities.

He continues his way, unknowing of how deep he is into this dilapidated community; it all begins to look the same. Candles and shadows, wood and adobe buildings. There's no sign of...

He squints.

His attention is directed to something that isn’t lit up with a dim amber candle. Staring up above the fog, over the nightly murk, the sky is lit up all sorts of colors. Deep in the center of the Slums stands a rather fancy building made of the same materials found at Canterlot. A very pristine, well maintained building. A clean whistle among the chest of rot.

As he approaches closer, it presents itself to be a club of some sort, possibly the one Lippy was referring to. There's a neon sign at the front which labels the building, but he doesn't understand a word of it. Slouching down and keeping himself more discrete, he eyes the purple and green edifice from a distance. A large zebra wearing fancy attire is planted at the entrance with two humans at either side. The trio wear dark shades, black suits, and remain motionless while guarding the swinging double-doors.

Examining these humans, they aren't very tall, but they're incredibly stocky. Maybe just over five foot and a half, though their bodies bulge from under their clothes. Their necks are thick, their hands are fists of rock. They definitely look... not normal.

A drunken stallion wearing presentable clothes gets tossed out from inside the club through the double-doors, and a shout from inside commands him to stay out. “Urhuh, buh ey nyheed moar… drank!” the stallion stumbles onto his legs and attempts to re-enter the club.

One of the humans guarding the door reaches over, picks the stallion up by his neck, and throws him like a spiraling football. The drunken stallion crashes into a wooden shack and breaks it into pieces.

“Mah HoUsE!” a drugged griffon cries and claws her head in despair.

The sheer power of the toss decides Crimson to leave them alone for now. Rather than confront the strip straight on, he opts for recon instead. This club isn't going anywhere, and if he'll be finding a way into it, he'll need more information to go on.

The path he is on splits two ways, left and right, where the club is on the right side. He strays to the left, getting more distance from him to the club. He descends deeper into the Slums. To his surprise, the work of the buildings around begin to take unique forms. The structures around detail a depressing story of a once-cultivated civilization. Stores, motels, street stands, factories, offices, all ran down and left barren. There isn't a single building that looks hospitable.

Due to how late it's getting and how groggy the murk is making him, he reckons he'll find a place to rest for the night. The area will be easier to traverse in the daylight. Definitely needs to be somewhere out of the line of sight and difficult to follow, lest a denizen crack-head follow him and ruin his slumber.

The straight path he took takes a hard right towards deeper slums. Rather than follow it, he decides to traverse into an alley between a huge factory and a lengthy office building. Stepping over trash bags and trash itself, the cluttered alleyway eventually gives in for a pocket of other decrepit structures forming an enclosed cul-de-sac. He certainly didn't expect such a convenient hidey-hole. Were it not for his intention to get lost, he never would have found this place.

The left and right are more offices and stores, while the far end bares a motel. Quite an unusual place for a motel considering the only way to get to it was through a shady alley. He can only assume structures were built over each other as time went on and situations changed.

With the possibility of intact rooms, he sets his stakes on the motel. If he's lucky, no one else is in there. He assumes there isn't since the population of Slums residents declined majorly once he trekked past the club. Not a single living soul could be seen or felt in these reaches.

It doesn't mean he'll get careless. If he encounters anyone, he'll be sure to dispatch of them carefully. If anything, potential roaches are already drunk or tweaking out. They shouldn't pose much of a threat.

Hands in his pockets, he continues his move. The motel approaches, the dusted wooden steps to the front porch squeal when his boot applies weight. It creaks again at his next step, and the wood continues its protest as he moves to the wooden door that bars off the inside. He hopes it's not locked. With a tight grip on the handle, he clicks the door open and pushes it in slowly. The opening crack gives way into a dimly lit receptionist desk. It's difficult to see inside but not impossible. Doesn't look like anyone's inside, but the lit candles dictate otherwise. No voices, no snoring, nothing of the sort. Sounds very nearly empty.

Assuming whoever is inside isn't at the front, he pushes the door open all the way; the door squeals its own discomfort.

"Hu... WUH!?"

Crimson's brows line his eyes. He was wrong.

"HURRYAH!"

With a step of shock, the man throws his head to the left to dodge a thrown kukri, it stabs into the door and vibrates. Upon dodging to the side, his cheek touches something sharp and cool. He freezes completely. Any further movement will cause his face to be impaled, or aggravate the one holding the weapon.

He can't believe he didn't see it. There, at the back of the receptionist desk, a tall animal who blended into the dust and grime stands completely still. It looks like... a camel. And someone else, the one who points a sword at his cheek.

"Got 'rselves an intruder, nah, don't we?" the old toothless camel growls.

"Looks like it," a young, smoother, masculine voice replies calmly. Crimson raises his hands up to show he doesn't have anything in them. "... Weird. Never seen this one around." He finally pulls the sword back a few inches, still keeping it pointed and ready, but not prodding at the man's face. The blade felt sharp, had any real pressure been applied, his cheek would be bleeding.

Crimson is finally able to turn his face to take in his appearance.

A pegasus stallion rests on a couch while lazily pointing his sword, one which is long enough to extend from the stallion's laying position. He sports an orange mane with a light blue coat, with bright dandelion eyes. His exterior appears young, but details such as a vertical scar under his right eye give him a grizzled guise. His mane flows forward to the side, rather presentable; he wears a dark blue long-sleeved plaid shirt and a belt that holds his sword's sheathe.

"Gonna kill 'em, do at'side. Ain't cleanin' up the mess," the camel grunts.

"Depends." He glazes the man up and down with a smirk. "Clothes look expensive. Definitely on the taller side. Whoever this belonged to is definitely gonna be looking for him."

"Thinkin' you'll rope 'im down fer ransom?"

The stallion chuckles, "I would of never thought of that, Moobs."

Smack!

The stallion's sword is hit from the side of the blade by Crimson's palm, throwing it into the wall and sticking it in an inch. Both the stallion and the camel jump into ready stances, though the stallion struggles for a moment to release his sword before leaping off of the couch.

Stepping backwards, the man yanks the kukri off the door and grips it with a cause. "You'll have a hell of a time gettin' me in a chain."

Shock paints the other two faces in the room. "Axel..." the camel named Moobs huffs with his jaw agape, "... that there human done spoke."

The stallion brandishes his sword and points it again firmly with a scowl. "Yeah. It did. This might be a bit above my paygrade."

"God damn right," the man retorts, shooting his piercing eyes between his present threats. "Now y'all got one of two options. One, scurry along, or two, we'll take our tango. Yer pick."

"Huh, the tongue on this one," Axel grins and shakes his head. "You barged in on us, pal. Why don't you take your own advice and run away? Go find your master, we'll pretend this little encounter never happened."

"The hard way, then," he grumbles and aims the kukri. Axel grits his teeth and tucks his chin.

"Nahao, just wait a berry-pickin' minute!" Moobs calls with a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his head. "Two a you's don't gotta fight! No need'a kill each other now! Reckon we can work this out! Ain't just sayin' that 'cuz I don't want no blood on my floors-- Axel..." Both he and Crimson shoot their glares to the camel, "don't I recall you sayin'sm stuff 'bout 'wishin you had an extra hoof' fer the... y'know."

Axel's eyes shift away as he gives into ponderance. He knows exactly what Moobs is hinting at. "... Hmh!" He glares at Crimson again. "Don't think this no-name creature will be of any good, prefer someone that's already got a profile."

"Axel, mah boy, you look at that there man 'n tell me he ain't handlin' mah knife right-like! Holdin' the handle at the good end 'n everythin'! Don't give in to assumptions much, but this fella looks like he's taken more 'n'a few lives!"

Crimson raises his left brow unenthusiastically. "Lickin' my boot after flingin' a knife my way ain't a good look."

"Didn't mean'na do it, young'n! Didn't knock, didn't'cha? Came right in 'n startled my ol' heart, you did!"

The man turns his glare to the stallion. He can tell that Axel is giving into the wiser words Moobs is relaying.

"... Where'd you come from, anyway?" Axel inquires.

"Reckon it ain't yer business," Crimson pushes back.

"You're right, it isn't, but I'm curious. Certain you heard the old timer. I'd like to think he's on to something. Instead of gutting each other in the middle of a rundown rattrap, we can try something else. What do you say?"

"... Got my arm. See if you can twist it."

"Hm," Axel's grin widens slightly, "got sense. I already like you." He brandishes his sword and sheathes it in one swift motion. "Sorry about the blade, nothing ever comes through that door. Threw me and the geezer here for a tizzy."

"I'd reckon," Crimson agrees effortlessly and walks to the receptionist desk, setting down the kukri for Moobs to take back. "I'll make sure to knock next time."

"Be much obliged if ya' did," Moobs' lips curl upward to give his saggy face a bit of height.

"Good opportunity to start over if you ask me," Axel announces, stepping forward towards the man. "Name's Axel Flex. That's Moobs," he throws a hoof to the camel before offering it out for a shake.

"... Sky," the man states in reply. He extends his hand out to shake the offered hoof.

"That your first or last name?"

"My only name. Nothin' before it, nothin' after."

"Simple. I like it. Now, judging from your reaction earlier, I can guess you don't have an owner. Any other parties we're looking forward to?"

"Just little ol' me."

"Hm. Again, what brings you around these parts?-- Wait, let me guess. The Gloriosa." Crimson's brows raise. "Heh, like an open book. First time?"

"Yeah. Been, uh... wanderin' about. Caught wind of this place and wanted to check it out. Heard there's some commodities inside. In the middle of the shithole's a palace of purdy lights 'n clean floors, you can say I'd like to see what's inside."

"Mm, mm," Axel nods in understanding. He glares at the man's boots for a moment. "Sky, man, feel free to take a seat," he offers with a grin as he himself plops back down onto the couch with a relaxed sigh.

Seeing a single-cushion couch at his side, Crimson accepts the offer and sits on the edge of it.

"I hope you don't mind, but I've got a crap-ton of questions, Sky. Before we get into business, I wanna get to know you a little better. Talking human and all, that's a first for even me, and I've seen some shit."

"Is it now? Took it surprisingly well. Others've fainted."

"Hah, no kidding? Sure it's weird, but fainting's exaggerating. I mean, Equestria's got one talking human already. They call him 'an Angel.' Crimson, if I recall correctly. Ever heard of him?"

"Name don't ring a bell."

"Seriously? Equestria and its mother knows. Never seen him personally, but I heard he's a pretty big deal. Works with the Robes and Guard, deals with the princesses directly. High-class shit. Hmh... this brings me back to something. You barred this question already, but I'll ask again in hopes of your forbearance. Where'd you come from?"

The man keeps his poker face unwavering, only turning his eyes to the left a little to stare at the base of the receptionist desk. His front is cool, but his mind is churning with everything he needs to say - with everything that was told for him to say. Before he left her cabin, Lippy devised a pretty believable plan that'll keep his mask raised. He just hopes he doesn't screw it up.

"... Long story," Crimson scratches the side of his head. "I'll keep it brief." He sharpens his tongue and glances up to the ceiling. "Grew up in a... shack, I guess. A cabin. I was chained up most of my life - a slave to a pony. One of them Black Horseshoes. I was just like other humans, couldn't speak 'r nothin'. I was prodded with needles growin' up. Test 'n such. Don't recall much of it, but the pain was as clear as day. Guess her goal was to give me sapience."

Axel nods with a grin. "Looks like it worked. You can talk just like us, almost better. Even got a little twang, like those kind from southern Equestria. That 'Angel' I referred to earlier? Word is he talks just like that."

"Then I'd reckon it was an aesthetic choice by the manic who made me. Would explain the drawings and portraits she had posted everywhere of some man with red hair, just never knew who it was."

"Bingo, red hair. Unmistakable. Guess your maker was obsessed with the Angel. Wouldn't doubt it too, he's a big topic in the Horseshoes, and you said she was one of them. The shit they manage to figure out never fails to impress. But you've got me thinking, she was a Horseshoe. Who was the Brain that gave this gift to you? Where she at now?"

"Dead. I killed her as soon as I learned to think fer myself. Got up from the table and took a scalpel to her throat when she was too busy celebratin'. Where she was? Dunno. Like I said, in a shack somewhere in the east."

"The east's pretty far taken into account we're in the far west. How'd you get here?"

"Don't even recall. It was dark that night, raining outside. Ended her life before I stole some of the clothes she had around 'n started walkin'. No idea where to, but kept walkin'. Walked fer a long time. Voices in the wind spoke of some Gloriosa belonging to the Black Horseshoes. Not bein' allowed in the cities, I reckon that's why I wound up here."

"So what was the gal's name?"

"Uuh... Lippy, 'r somethin' like that."

Axel sits up in his seat and hits a hearty laugh. "Lippy? Like, Lippy Snare?"

"Yeah. Think so."

"I'd shit a solid gold brick right now!" he beats with enthusiasm. "I just met you, yet you've already done the gang a great service. Lippy Snare has been on the hitlist for eighteen years. Dumb bitch caused a lot of trouble before running away. Even worse, she stole a human too. I was just a teen back then, but I sure as heck remember how pissed several of the honchos were when they heard she got away. Shit got real strict after that, new pages of tenets posted on every member's forehead."

"Was she really that much of a problem? Bit much fer just one pony."

"How can you say that?" Axel spits rather defensively. "You saw the shit she did first hand. She was one of the brightest Brains in the gang, leading the human development department for two years. Probably longer if she wouldn't have escaped."

New to Crimson, his brows raise in surprise. He supposes he doesn't know much about Lippy at all, even if he'd been trapped there for a month. If she truly was a mad scientist with a prominent past, she sure shoved it out of sight. Plus, this sudden act of sympathy isn't doing his disguise any favors. Conceiting to Axel's point, he nods. "You're right."

"I know I am, but now you've got me thinking again. You killed her, AND you got away? I'm not sure what kind of bars you had to jump through to do that, but I'm seeing Moobs' wisdom. You're a natural born killer."

"These eyes nev'r lie," the camel smirks cheekily.

"Had my fair share of tussles," Crimson comments. "Equestria's an unforgiving place."

"No argument here," Axel waves a hoof. "How long's it been since you've joined the higher-thinker's club?"

"... 'Bout a month. Not sure. Easy to forget things. Gainin' sapience outta no where when you've been dumb for so long is... difficult... to take. Tons of knowledge goin' in at once, my brain done-near fizzled out. What y'all absorb in a life-time, I got learnt in a few seconds. Usin' my tongue to talk makes it cramp up sometimes. Gettin' better, but still a burden."

"Couldn't imagine it myself. This is some new-age magic shit." He crosses his arms over his chest and reclines on the couch's armrest, smirking at the musing man. "Still a sight watching you talk. The more you do, the more I like you. You've got an air about yourself."

"Might just be your imagination, dear Axel."

"Nop! Thinkin' these ol' bones feel it too!" Moobs interjects. "Tough as nails you look, mister Sky. Way you dodged mah knife, then almost makin' Axel there shit his drawers!" The stallion glares angrily at him. "Intimdatin' one ya' are, but after ya' started talkin', felt you was a neighbor from back'n the day."

Crimson rolls his eyes, "Quit it, y'all'll make me blush. That's enough 'bout me, what of you two? Hardly look like thugs, 'n I've seen a few. You two part of them... Black Horseshoes?" he asks with a hint of ire. Both Axel and Moobs note his risen intensity.

"Hmh," the stallion huffs dismissively. "I've still got ties with a few of the members, but that's on a personal level. Don't have any business with them as a whole - not anymore, at least. Moobs there was never affiliated with them. He's just some old camel that runs a perfectly reasonable motel."

"Really?" the man glances to Moobs.

"Nah," the camel shakes his head with closed eyes and a smile. "Part of a gang, I was. Sandwalkers. Gang'a camels based east of the Badlands. Harder'n steel, we were. Fuck'n griffons tried takin' our land number'a times, but we shot 'em down like flies 'n used their feathers fer our arrows. Life full'a killin' and dyin'. Moobs got old quick, life's tide set him down here in the Slums to retire. Don't ask why, longer story than yer ears can hold."

Crimson lifts his brows in surprise to the oddly gory story held behind the passive-looking creature. He glances to Axel next, "'N what of you?"

"Treasure hunter for the Black Horseshoes. Just a treasure hunter now. Make a killing off of finding what was lost, artifacts, clothes, heirlooms, the kinds. Got a sixth sense, it's guided me my whole life."

"What made you leave?"

"Hmh... too many things to number. Politics and shit. A lot changed, couldn't find myself anymore. Had to break away. You wouldn't understand." His lazy eyes suddenly sharpen and lock with Crimson's; his carelessness soon replaced by mischievousness. "But I know what you want. I don't even need to see your eyes to know, I can tell from a mile away."

"Enlighten me."

"You want revenge on the Black Horseshoes. For that bitch keeping you like a lab rat. You want to step on their skulls - every last one of them."

Crimson crosses his legs and rests his hands on them, leaning forward. "This yer sixth sense talkin'?"

"Hyeah, you can say that. Am I right or am I right?"

"Too soon to say... but if you're able to point me in the right direction, we'll see how it goes."

"Perfect. In that case, we can get down to business. Since we just met, we need to make sure we can trust each other. There's a few... odd jobs that I need to take around the Slums. Want you watching my back incase things get spicy. Good trust builder. But! I know I said incase, though letting you know right now we're going to be getting dirty. If you aren't prepared to bust some heads, then we can drop this all right here."

"More details. Form my opinion on them."

"Alright. Details. I'll give you the nutshell, hopefully this'll sate your curiosity. For right now, we've got a week of chores." Axel shifts his attention to the camel. "Moobs, today's Friday, right?"

"Ye'zir," he replies, still looking forward lazily with an equally tired smile.

"Good. We've got seven things for the next seven days. I'll gather more on what we need for Saturday then-on, but for the first three days, I know what we're in for. The first task will be simple: a retrieval. Couple of low-lives that had connections to Gloriosa abused their trust and made off with a lump-some of bits. No matter what, we need to make sure those fools learn not to tug the graces of the honcho."

"The basics of respect, I'd reckon."

"Eeexactly! Damn, whatever magic that Brain used on you, it's got some street smarts!" Crimson shrugs nonchalantly. "So we've got that in the pocket. Next task? Take out some tourists that have been hassling us. By 'us', more specifically, Moobs. Isn't that right, old timer?"

"Yehp," Moobs frowns and plants his cloven hoof on the desk. "Damn wrinkly som'bitches that used to be part'a tha' Sandwalkers done caught wind'a me livin' in the Slums. Out fer my neck, they are!"

"Why're yer own gang after you?" Crimson prods.

"Hehaah, weeell... admit ah didn't leave in the best of spirits. We was bein' attacked by the Sleepin' Talons on a particularly cold evenin'. Me 'n mah closest friend made a beeline outta the family with a shitton'a loot we had stashed away at base, stole as much as we could from our own kind. Sandwalkers were gettin' ravaged left 'n right, our numbers were dwindlin'. Didn't wanna wait till next matin' season to get our numbers up. By that time, probably get raided again 'n get wiped out fer good. Hehah, turns out the Sandwalkers made it through the fall. Group'a ol' friends 'r still pissed I abandoned 'em 'n now they're out fer mah blood."

"And friends help friends," Axel begins, "so we're helping Moobs out for old time's sake. Moreover, the Sandwalkers will definitely start a war with the Black Horseshoes if they found out an ex-member was helping out their deserter. Don't need that happening right now, not with all the crazy shit that's been going on in Equestria. We'll kill them and make sure none of them get away. Don't worry about them getting extra hooves, they're technically deserters too. Broke off from the family to kill Moobs, despite orders not to. If these guys die, main body of Sandwalkers wouldn't give a damn. Just don't need them reporting back with sensitive findings."

"Right," Crimson acknowledges. "So that's two. Next?"

Axel grins wildly, "My favorite. A shakedown."

"Simple enough."

"Damn right. Some moron, spreading rumors about the honcho, needs to be taught a lesson. No killing, and preferably no lasting damage. So don't break any of their bones or tear something important. It'll make beating him in the future more enjoyable if he doesn't learn his lesson."

"All these jobs link in with yer honcho there. Coincidence?"

"Not at all," Axel smirks while shaking his head. "Like I said, I don't have official ties to her, but we go way back. Keeping the streets clean for her is just my way. So what do you say, you in or you in?"

With a moment to ponder, he lets out a sigh to finalize his decision. "I'm in. When're we plannin' to move?"

"Tomorrow morning. Gives us a few hours of sleep. Motel's got plenty of rooms, take your pick. Each has got a bed with a blanket, a mirror, couch, coffee table, and a bucket. Moobs makes sure they're all up to par. Just don't pick the first room, that's mine. And what was that shit about the last room, Moobs?" the stallion asks while glancing over.

"Chiggers," Moobs replies quickly. "Gettin' them tamed as we speak. Ain't gotta worry 'bout the spreadin', ain't goin' no where. Got a secret ingredient lined on the doorframe, real toxic. Value yer life, you don't open that door."

Crimson nods twice. "No first door, no last door. Righty'o... hope I don't regret puttin' my trust in some strangers. I'll be headin' to bed. See if I don't wake up with my neck slit open."

"I'd be offended, but it's a good concern to have," Axel chuckles. "Keeps those survival skills up. I like that. You crash out for the night, Sky, I'll be here with Moobs a bit longer."

The man rises to his feet and arches his back in, shrugging his shoulders. "Y'all have a good evenin'."

"Likewise," Axel nods.

"Do the same, mister Sky," Moobs waves tiredly.

The man glances behind him. From the receptionist desk to the left, a saloon double-door is found before a hallway where the rooms are held. Proceeding into this hallway, six doors are located to his right, and the left is only a wall which has boarded up windows that do not allow view outside of the motel. Skipping the first door as instructed, he finds pleasantries with the third door, considering it's safely between Axel's and last door. Taking the whiny door handle, the door complains its opening.

He steps inside and glances around. Axel's description was more than accurate: a couch and coffee table in the middle, a mirror directly to the right with a stool, a bed on the far right corner, and a bucket on the far left corner. It doesn't look very homey, but it serves its purpose.

He closes the door behind himself, noting he's unable to lock it due to no lock actually being on the handle. Nevertheless, he treks to the bed and falls atop of it. He's kindly surprised that a mass of dust doesn't come up onto his face on landing. It's happened too many times before in the saloons he's rested at.

Crimson rolls onto his back and faces the ceiling. He's well aware that he won't be getting a good night's rest, instead, his mind wanders. The very first thing that pops into thought makes him smirk ever so slightly; words spoken by a peculiar griffon quite some time ago.

"As much as they like to look tough, they're not gonna do shit against the crowns. My advice? Stick with them. Stay away from gangs if you can help it."

...

"Stay away from gangs if you can help it."

Either Fawl didn't realize the true implications of what he said, or he was really trying to look after Crimson by offering genuine advice. Whatever the case, it was advice not heeded. Gangs might just be apart of the man's unending curse.

... Fawl and Tawl. They never survived the urge to leave Equestria, despite their hint of determination. He wonders how their return to Griffonstone is going. Safely, he hopes. Maybe Lightheart will run into them. All things considered, they might know each other... or maybe not. Probably not. Fawl isn't too fond of ponies.

The man brings his palms to his eyes and rubs them for a few seconds, feeling them water from the mix of pressure his hands place and tiredness. His mind trails off again, this time to his sister. He envisages her beautiful face, her silky skin slightly tanned by the desert sun. Her beautiful cyan irises that seem so stern but compassionate at the same time, accentuated by her long wavy eyelashes. Hair as black as night, but a heart of pure gold. How he misses her. Were he the same man from seven years ago, there would have been no way he'd survive being estranged from her. He'd lose his mind. He'd go berserk. He wouldn't care of the state of Equestria, he'd only want to go home. A part of him still feels this way.

He reaches for the collar, tugging on it lightly. Because of this noose around his neck, he can't channel his Arch. He can't willingly draw out the inner soul to reach into the Rift, thus, he's stuck here; he's grounded to existence with no reprieve.

Unable to talk to her, hold her dainty adorable hands, he's... almost glad. The scolding he'd receive for even thinking of affiliating himself with the Black Horseshoes would have no end, and for good reason. Everything he did to the Black Spurs was to finally keep away from such things, alas, here he is again. After years of clawing his way out of the darkness, it seems to drag him in time and again. Viola would be so disappointed. Whatever the hell is happening here in Equestria, he hopes it's just as transient than his old life.

His heart is torn at the middle, each half polar opposites. There's a sense of obligation, a tugging that tells him he should be here, he has to rid Equestria of these anomalies. But then, there's a wallowing hate. A well of frustration that continues to deepen. Everything he thought he knew about Canterlot was instantly shambled by the revelation had to him by Magnifying Glass.

Celestia used him as a tool, with Moonlight following her majesty's orders. He wasn't anything special, he was an over-glorified test dummy. Even now as he thinks on it, his brows furrow and his lips become horizontal; his blood grows cold at thinking he had become something to them. He should have known better. This land and it's magical whims have bested him yet.

Still, he attempts to ease his nerves by allowing rationality to seep into the toxicity. Celestia? Probably everything he now suspects her to be. A politic - one interested in only the bettering of her own cause. But Moonlight...?

... but Moonlight. No. Not her. Not Moonlight. He assures himself that she didn't mean any harm, and if anything, she was coerced by Celestia. There's simply no way that a caring, trepid being such as herself could ever be so conniving. There's simply no way...

... right?

...

"Yer weak. Yer pathetic."

He winces at the voice that whispers in his head. Far too many times has he fallen burden to his compassion. That isn't necessarily a bad thing, right? Being sympathetic is a good trait to have. At least, that's what he tells himself. He knows he should be more upset at those who toyed with him, especially since he's gone farther than necessary in the past to those who've inconvenienced him less. Though, it's drastic to compare. Those he has hurt mostly had it coming. Mostly.

He's weak. He's pathetic. Words spoken by a tasteless figure, Michael. A phrase that would never truly leave him.

"C'mon, pull the trigger already. Ain't nothin' but waste."

The red-haired man glazes his trembling hazel eyes between the crying sobs of the two females before him. The man they were assigned to kill is now dead, his house destroyed, and his fields burnt. All that's left is the wife and child, harrowing in fear at the two looming gunmen. "Fer christ's sake, Michael, it's a woman and her kid. The hell they gonna do to us? Jordas is dead, let's get 'fore the long arm gets here."

"Ch. Fuckin' weak. 'N pathetic. That's what you are, Sky." PAOH, PAOH!

The smoke from Michael's barrel is fresh in his mind. Ironically enough, his revolver was the same exact model of his own. He judged Michael harshly for his way of doing things, but in the end, he must of looked like a mirror image.

Jaded and tired, he closes his eyes and lets his heart sink him to sleep.

Time and Again

~ Canterlot Castle, Moonlight's Room ~<
March 24th, Saturday, 9:16

‎

It appalls her to see such a thing on her face. Dark circles. Nine years has passed since they've shown themselves. Moonlight stares at herself in the bathroom, disheartened by what the mirror replies with.

No matter how she goes about it, no matter what she does, she couldn't and still can't stop thinking about him. A slow burn that has been simmering to a boil. It's been a month and a half. He's out there somewhere, living his life far away from her. What he's doing now, she couldn't know, but an undying fear constantly looms above her: he's in danger. He's constantly in danger, time and again, a harrowing thought that never maroons.

The only saving component to her muse was the news she received by a reliable source, who informed her that he's made a full recovery. Though, that doesn't necessarily mean he's in good condition right at this time. From the two weeks it took him to recover, to the month that he's been gone, he could be dire. It is never something she wants to think about but it's impossible for her not to.

"Mumu?"

Moonlight turns her head to the button voice of a little foal barely rising from sleep. Taking a step back from the mirror, she looks past the doorframe to her bed to see Furi sitting up, rubbing her tiny emerald eyes. "In the bathroom, sweetie," she hums to the comfort of the filly.

Even though Furi still rubs her eyes, just hearing the singing of that motherly voice makes her smile.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Okay," Furi simply replies.

"No nightmares?"

"Mm-mm," she shakes her head and blinks twice.

"I'm happy to hear that. Cereal?"

"Mm!" Furi gleefully nods.

Together they descend the staircase to the first floor. Furi skips over to a beanbag next to the base of the stairs, where a small library-like reading area is based. The little filly quickly scrounges up the cartoon book she was almost finished with the night before and continues it with gusto.

Moonlight moves to the pantry on the opposite side from the base of the stairs, magically opening the thin metal door with metal mesh that runs down the center of it. She takes a box of honey-flavored puffball cereal and the milk from the fridge inside.

It isn't long before the little filly sets down her book to take the bowl from Moonlight's magic. Furi happily snacks down on it, a little faster than she should even after Moonlight has scolded her before, at fault to her desire of wanting to return to reading.

Moonlight's eyelids fall halfway at the innocence before her. The way Furi rocks left and right, mumbling and humming to herself with an unconditional smile.

Even though it saddens her to know that she really has no family left, and the distant relatives that are alive don't care about her, she still gives silent thanks that she's able to spend time with Furi. Even if it is only on weekends, where the rest of the week is spent at the Canterlot orphanage, this time spent together is well worth it. It's a shame that today is already Saturday, they'll want her back tomorrow morning.

It's been over a month since this little psudo mother-daughter chemistry began, after Moonlight was notified of the family situation. She has heavily debated adopting her for her own, but... as much joy as that would bring the both of them, she'd prefer that Furi is taken in by a complete and stable family instead. It might be difficult and tedious to wait, but it's ultimately what's best.

"Finished with your cereal?" the words flow out of Moonlight without even thinking about them, so naturally as Furi lifts her big green eyes.

"Mm!"

Moonlight levitates the bowl and takes it to be washed. Furi returns to her book, deeply immersed in the fate of the pink alligator and its friend, the bird.

Knock, knock, knock

While Moonlight is drying the bowl, a hoof raps against her front door. Both Moonlight and Furi turn to each other.

...

Moonlight doesn't want to answer it. She almost doesn't. Maintaining a happy face is becoming all but impossible now, if only for Furi. She thought she could stave off the depression as long as Magnifying visited her, but it took less than the first week of his visits to stomp out that belief. Still, she can't bring herself to outright shut him out, especially since...

... since he confessed his feelings to her. The weight of that day, a Monday almost two weeks ago, did nothing but add to the aching. Awkward, fumbling, Moonlight knew not what to say to Magnifying's, "I love you, Moonlight. I've always loved you! E-Ever since... that day... when I asked you to dance at our very first Royal Ball together. It was your first year, remember? Barely even a Scribe out of training... I loved you ever since..."

The more Magnifying spoke of older times, an age that has certainly come and gone, she felt progressively worse. Memories repressed resurfaced - she was blind to his affection, veiled by the snake that tended to her and made her feel special - one lowly janitor. She's tried hard to forget the past, and recently, it was working. She finally found something that would aid her in letting go; a man that gave her wings to breeze over everything she was slogging through emotionally. Then that very same man left her desolate, resigned to a hospital bed as a ragged corpse that had almost no hope of waking up again.

Knock, knock, knock, knock

A second set of rapping against her heavy doors, harder, less trepid, breaks her out of her mental deluge for a second time. She figures she should finally go answer the door and... get it over with.

She reels at herself.

Get it over with? She seriously thought that. Why? Magnifying has done nothing but be supportive of her, gave her a shoulder to cry on ever since Crimson was set afar. She scolds herself for being so insensitive. But why does the nagging persist?

Silence comes upon the room. Furi takes her book and runs for the stairs, back up to the bed. Moonlight makes pace to the door, and with her magic, she opens it up to present a widely-grinning stallion dressed in his Scribe robe with a bag of take-out in his aura. "Hello, Magnifying," she says with a wry smile.

Magnifying's plastic grin quickly fades into a worried frown. "... Hi... Moonlight." He bites his lower lip before speaking up against the ensuing silence between them. "... Are... are you okay? You look... tired."

Even if she was already aware of this fact, she can't but show her timidity at someone else pointing it out. "I'm okay."

Tilting his head slightly to the left and huffing a sigh from his mouth, he delivers a very disappointed gaze. "Is that the case?" He knows full well she's not telling him the truth.

Moonlight nods twice. After another dense silence, she lights in realization. "O-Oh, um, I'm--I'm sorry. I should have invited you... in." She sheepishly simpers and steps back, offering silence for his entrance.

With an unsure smile of his own, he walks in and makes way to his usual stool, the one that he's been sitting at since the first dinner they had together. He sets the food down and begins spreading it out for the both of them, a buffet of deep fried veggies and noodles.

Moonlight takes her usual seat as well, sitting across and quietly watching him present the spread. It looks good, it smells good, but the tied knot in her gut makes her at a loss for an appetite.

Magnifying shoots his gaze upwards, past the railings of the second floor. He spots the tiny figure ogling him from above. With a smile and a wave, he calls, "Hi there, Furi! It's good to see you again!"

The little filly says nothing and retreats, followed by the sound of the bathroom door closing.

With a disappointed sigh, he returns his attention to Moonlight. "I thought she'd warm up to me by now..."

"I'm very sorry, Magnifying. I-I'm not sure why she always acts like this, I've tried asking her..."

Noting the oppressive air that is forming, Magnifying shakes his head and chuckles, "Aw, no need to worry about it, Moonlight! Maybe soon she'll come around! Well, let's dig in!"

She forces herself to take a paper plate and sling some noodles onto it. The room dips into silence as they eat - or more appropriately, Magnifying eats. Moonlight hardly touches her food even if she didn't serve herself a lot, and Magnifying has noticed it since the beginning. Though, it takes him nearly five minutes before setting his fork down and giving Moonlight an unsteady glare.

"Not... hungry?" he mutters.

Moonlight simply shakes her head. "I... had a big breakfast. I'll probably get... h-hungry... soon."

The conversation drowns out before it even starts. Biting his lower lip in worry, he tries to think of something, anything, to talk about so it isn't awkward between them. He's noticed this too, how after he confessed his love to her, she's become slightly more isolated. That slightness gradually expanded to what it is now, simply talking with her is becoming challenging.

He almost regrets telling her how he felt, even if it was the truth, but there's a glimmer of hope. Others have tried visiting her room but she's turned down all of them, except him. There's a reason she lets him into her room, maybe, just maybe, she needs a little bit of time to collect herself before taking the next step. He's willing to wait. He's already waited nearly ten years, the final stretch must be nigh.

"Oh!" Magnifying recalls something that'll surely get her talking. This pique gives Moonlight her own and she glances up to him curiously. "..." ... But on second thought... he actually doesn't want to talk about this. It's a subject he wants to actively avoid and completely forget about.

"Oh?" Moonlight echoes with the furrowing of her brows.

"Uh, eeeh," the stallion stammers as he mentally bungles. Her attention is already grasped and the last thing he's able to do under the scrutiny of those pink eyes is think of another topic. "G-Guess who, I, uh... guess who I saw the other day!"

A little bit of life twinkles in her orbs, her brows raise up slightly. "Crimson?" she asks without hesitation.

Magnifying's face sours. "Wuh-err... yes. How, uh... how did you know?"

"L-Lucky guess, ehehehe..." she twiddles with a lock of her mane, unable to hide a slight pinkening of her cheeks.

He can feel his face flustering slightly as well, not because of embarrassment, but rather... "Very lucky, indeed." He can't help but accidentally lather some sharpness onto his tone.

"W-Where did you see him?"

"I, eerm... I saw him in Las Pegasus. In the research labs."

"The labs? What was he doing there?"

"He, uuuh..." his eyes dart left and right very small distances, "... he was there, I think, looking for Lightheart. Something about, um..." He stops for a moment. Moonlight is utterly captivated by what will follow. He'll need to choose his next words wisely... "... S-Something about a date. That they were having."

Moonlight's ears flop to her head as she fails terribly to hide her dismay. "A date!?" she cries a bit louder than she intended, even flinching back at her own voice.

Magnifying too recoils at the outburst. "Woah, Moonlight. Is there a problem with that?"

"Well, I-- T-There's no-- ... He..." She can't seem to form the words she wants to say, her breathing is picking up in her anxiousness.

"Calm down, Moonlight, please. This is nothing to fuss over, right? Or is there... something you want to talk about?"

Her pupils tremble, her heart beats in her ears, but she has no choice but to stuff it all down... for right now. Regaining control of her breaths, she clears her throat and sighs deeply. "... I'm... just a little... um... shocked. I suppose. Y-You see, he... never really liked, or um... how should I say this." She pieces together the phrasing before continuing. "According to what I've known, and what he has told me, he doesn't see ponykind in a... r-romantic... light. So, he-hearing this... that he and Lightheart..."

Magnifying's eyes pry open, both in relief at this revelation and in worry. "I-Is that so? He actually doesn't find a romantic attraction to ponies?"

She despondently nods. "His own words. ... B-But it does make sense. I still remember... one night..." Before continuing, her cheeks flush with blood and give them a brighter glisten than usual. "D-Do you promise not to tell anypony? T-This is... a secret."

"Not a soul!" He grins wildly, fluttering with happiness that she's entrusting him with 'sensitive information.'

"Crimson... he told me, after he came back from his first visit to Las Pegasus... he met the other researchers there. The first thing he told me about them was that him and Lightheart 'hit it off pretty good.' So, maybe he... I-I guess he..."

"... Are you upset that he is seeing Lightheart, Moonlight?" Magnifying asks brazenly as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

The twisting in her stomach is worsening - though she only puts up a leaden smile and shakes her head. "... I-I'm... I'm happy for him. If seeing Lightheart makes him happy, t-then... I'm happy."

A sour taste envelops Magnifying's tongue. Everything that she's saying, it's obvious what she means. He grits his teeth quietly and purses his lips to try and stave off the wave that is rushing him.

"D-Did... he, um... at least say hello? T-To me?" Moonlight's voice is barely above a whisper, her smile, though, seems to become more genuine at the prospect of him possibly giving his greetings to her from afar.

"No," Magnifying bluntly states. "He didn't."

"Aah!?" Her jaw hits the ground and her pupils dilate to pen pricks.

"It was kind of sad, too. I even told him, 'hey, Crimson, Moonlight told me to say hello if I ever saw you!' And all he said was, 'Alright.'" He even attempts to mimic the deep timbre of the man's voice. "Then I tried to ask him, 'Should I say hello back for you?' And then he said, 'Don't matter.' Honestly, I was shocked. I didn't say anything to him, but I thought to myself... wow. Now that's insensitive." He returns his monologuing stare to the mare who's very nearly about to cry.

"D-Doesn't..." her lips quiver desperately, "... matter?"

"That is what he said, unfortunately... it even made me feel a bit solemn. From the way it looked, he's got it all figured out. He's out there living his own life, and well... like many ponies, he might just be trying to move on. It's one of life's grim truths..."

"Doesn't..." a tear runs down her cheek, quickly followed by two more, "... care." She chokes on that final word, huffing her despair in breaths again and again.

"Ooh, Moonlight..." Upon witnessing her broken self, the sadness is rubbing onto him. He doesn't want to see her cry... but it's a necessary step. Hiding his grin, he rises from his barstool to kick up one next to her, coming onto it and embracing Moonlight with a hug. She melds into his embrace effortlessly, pressing her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around him. The warmth of her body, wry strains of her unkempt mane tickling his chin, the scent of her shampoo touching his nose. It's bliss.

The final stretch is nigh.

‎

‎

~ Equestria, The Slums ~<
March 24th, Saturday, 15:56

‎ ‎

BAM!

"EH-SHIT!"

The pack of five druggies shoot eyes to the door of their hideout being kicked in, a conspicuous shack amongst the many in the Slums. Coming in with a stomp, a tall man and a rugged stallion shoot indifferent stares at everyone in the room.

"AXEL, HOH SHIT, YA' SCARED US!" a griffon shouts at an unnecessarily high volume. Probably partially deaf.

"Fuck-right you did," a stallion with dried blood on his snout mumbles. "Long time no see, ye."

Crimson remains silent, taking in the scene. Two stallions, two griffons, and a zebra, all male. One single wooden table in the middle with blankets and garbs scattered about to make up their beds. Needles, lines of powder, the scent of burning, it's everything the Slums is in one room.

Looks like these lowlifes know his comrade, which the stallion himself hardly shows reaction to their psudo-hospitality. They seem to relax only slightly at seeing Axel, but then regain their tension when they stare at Crimson.

"Who's ya' human friend?" the same stallion speaks up.

Axel looks to Crimson, who in turn looks back - eyes still shrouded by his black-as-night hair. Looking towards the pack again, Axel grins. "Just that. A friend."

The bloody-nosed stallion starts to fidget mildly, including his mates. "Herr, well... mind ma' manners, ye. C'mon, take seats, f'ya like! Fancy a line, either a-ye's? Got plenny!"

With a shake of his head, Axel refuses. "Told you before I don't do snow. Told you to keep off of it too, remember?" Blank stares from the entirety. "Heh. 'Course you don't. Matter of fact, you probably don't remember a fucking thing I've ever told you. Now it's gotten this bad and there isn't a thing in the world that can save you. The five-thousand, Bend. Where is it?"

Crimson's brows furrow from behind his shade. Five-thousand bits isn't a joke. From what he understands, one could fully pay off a modest house in Equestria with that kind of money.

"Eh, eheh-heh," the stallion coughs and grumbles, smirking wryly. "See it here, don'tcha?" He gestures to the obscene amount of plastic bags with white powder inside them tucked under the table.

Axel can't help but smile in return, coming across as something akin to pity. He shakes his head ruefully, "Tried to warn you, Bend. Tried to tell you. Matter of fact, all I ever did in the time I've known you is warn you... tell you, 'this is a bad idea.' Guess you were always hard of hearing, like Shtick over there." He throws his hoof lazily to the squinting griffon that yelled earlier.

"HUH!?" is what the griffon replies with when he notices eyes are upon him.

Axel chuckles. "Tried to tell you - all of you. But you know what was the most important thing I tried to tell you? The one thing I told you to never forget?" The blankness in their eyes slowly forms to some sort of cognition as Axel's words seep with venom. Time stops but for a moment. A distant wind blows outside the shack. Axel's grin widens a notch. "Don't fuck with Gloriosa."

"GRAAAAAH!" Collective screaming ensues from the addicts as they toss and turn to acquire their shanks.

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Moonlight's Room ~<
‎ March 25th, Sunday, 8:58

‎

They're heavier today - her dark circles.

Odd. She slept fine last night, exhausted and flattened from her emotional release followed by walking Furi to the orphanage, but still just now waking up. Moonlight blinks her tired eyes at the mirror as she brushes her teeth. Even though she woke up half-past noon, she doesn't feel hungry. In fact, she doesn't know what she feels. Nothing, maybe.

This might be a good thing, she thinks. If she can't feel anything, she won't be bothered by him. She'll try to do just as he is, move on.

Knock, knock, knock

Her eyes startle open slightly at the rap of her door. She figures he's here early, but then realizes that it's lunch time and Magnifying has come again to share it with her.

Strange. She doesn't feel nervous about his visit today. She usually is, a few butterflies taking residence in her stomach when they spend time with one-another. But today...

After washing her face and drying off, she meanders downstairs to meet the stallion waiting for her. She opens the door with her magic and blinks out some exhaustion.

"H-Hello, Moonlight!" Magnifying greets cheerfully.

Before she is able to reply, a open-mouth yawn escapes. "Mh, oh, excuse me."

"Hoh, that's quite alright! Tired, are we?"

She nods, "I, um... actually just woke up."

"Really? Did-Did you stay up late last night?"

She shakes her head with a groggy smile, "I fell asleep not long after you left. Didn't feel like crawling out of bed this morning, I guess."

Magnifying chuckles, "I-I definitely understand that sentiment. I, erh, I brought... food!" He levitates the plastic bag in his hold a bit closer to her. "If you'd like some..."

She glosses over the bag briefly, probably something he picked up from the Castle eatery. She still isn't hungry in the slightest but figures she might be soon. Might as well eat something for now. "That sounds good. Come on in," she hums with a slight lag in her voice, still presenting a droopy simper.

Nearly bursting with joy, Magnifying strides in quickly to the lab table, setting the food and himself up. He is tailed by Moonlight who sits across from him and helps him splay the contents. As they set out the six unique trays of salad items, breads, and condiments, the stallion steals quick glances at her, noting that tiny smile that simply refuses to leave her lips. A grin of his own forms autonomously - the events of last night seem to be showing their first impressions.

"It's okay, Moonlight. I won't leave you. I'll never leave you. I'll give you all the time in the world..."

The sweet whispers to her broken state, huffing and tearing against him in the quiet of the afternoon.

"You'll get over him, time is the best healer..."

The two enjoy their lunch in a lax, lazy silence.

‎

‎

~ Equestria, The Slums ~<
March 25th, Sunday, 19:42

‎
‎

As the sun dips over the horizon, the Slums quickly darken. The cover of night is perfect.

"... Alright," Axel whispers in affirmation. "Give it another few minutes. They'll be asleep soon."

"Little early to be retirin', ain't it?" Crimson murmurs back quietly.

The two of them rest on the rooftop of an old plastic factory, backs against the three-foot tall wall that lines the edges. Axel has a duffle bag to his right, and Crimson sits to his left. "When the sun goes out, so do the camels. They're like that. They're probably gonna switch patrol soon, probably with a pair specifically for night duty."

"Then what of our own owl Moobs?"

"He's a special case. Lots of camels have internal clocks that make them exhausted once sunlight dies. Something about Moobs isn't right, thinking some sort of brain trauma. He doesn't get tired at night like the rest do, in fact, I'm not even sure when he sleeps. I go to bed, he tells me goodnight. I wake up, he's already there to tell me good morning."

"Sounds like the 'ol timer don't sleep at all."

Both of them share a light chuckle, still being sure to stay quiet. After their exchange, Axel quickly sits up and peers off the side of the wall, glancing at the dilapidated single-floor motel across the street two shops down. He spots two camels in the carriage lot moseying around, different from the two that were previously on patrol. The doors of every room are closed and their blinds as well.

Crimson soon joins Axel in peeking. "You were right, shift's changed. Two new guys up front. Think there're any 'round back?"

"That's what I'm worried about. This particular motel doesn't have any access from that side, so I'd like to think there'd be no reason to have a post there. If there is, they're gonna be coming back soon. No way they'd be able to walk around it in the time we last checked. I'd say... give it six seconds."

Five...

Four...

Three...

Two...

...

Crimson's brows wrinkle his forehead. With immaculate timing, the camels that were posted back appear from the right side of the motel. They pass through the rear fence gate and break off into two separate rooms, yawning and giving each other their parting words.

Axel and Crimson both return to sitting against the wall. "Perfect," Axel grins as he reaches for his bag.

"No way that was just a coincidence."

Looking at the man, his grin only widens. "It wasn't. Scouted before this. Know their routes and times, just pretended I didn't to make it look cool."

Crimson tilts his head and purses his lips in a manner that says, 'well, alright then.'

Axel returns to rummaging through the duffle bag, this time pulling out two hefty steel contraptions that awfully resemble...

"Crossbows?" Crimson lines his brows.

"Yup. Gonna need 'em to get this party started. Know how to use one?" he asks as he offers it.

Crimson reaches and gets a hold of it, pressing the stock against his shoulder and holding it with both hands. It's pretty big for a crossbow, bigger than the one he's seen Bulletpoint use - and that in itself was a sniper's crossbow. Whatever this thing is, no doubt it's for extremely high-range exchanges. "Reckon these will handle our friends in the lot," he comments as he looks down the scope. He assumes it's magnified five times, etched with compensation markers and, what he can only guess is, numbers. He doesn't need to understand the numbers to get the general idea.

"They will. Guess you're comfortable with them."

"Can say that."

"Hot damn, Sky. You and your apparently infinite skill set. Where were you two years ago when I really needed the backup?"

"Think even you might know the answer to that."

"Huh. Yeah, you're probably right. Sometimes I forget you're a wicked science project."

"Less on me and more on our friends down there. How're we gonna deal with the fellas indoors?"

"With these," Axel reaches to the bag again and takes out one of many purple jelly-like balls. "T-K bombs."

"Some sorta... magic explosive?"

"Not an explosive, a gas. T for tranquilizer, K for kill. Popping these off will cause gas to start spewing out, same stuff you find in the regular tranq potion, but notched up to the stars. Shit will have you on the ground asleep in two seconds, tranquilize. Falling asleep in this stuff will make your heart slow down until its stops. Kill."

"How're we gonna set 'em off?"

Axel stifles an oncoming mighty laugh. "Ever egged a friend's house?"

"No? Sounds like a waste of good eggs. Why'd you do somethin' like that?"

"Damn, you live under a rock? To prank them. It's funny."

"Still a waste."

"Ch, way to miss the mark, Sky. Anyways," he grunts, "same concept. Chuck them as hard as you can, as fast as you can."

"Won't that wake 'em up?"

"Gonna have to do it fast."

Crimson doesn't find much confidence on this plan, and a drawn out silence makes him believe that this is actually going to be the course of action.

"... Playing with you," Axel snickers. Crimson presents visible relief. "Once we take care of nightwatch, we'll prop 'em up on the ground outside their doors and shoot them from afar. It's what the 5-times is for."

Crimson's brows shoot up in realization. He figured the scope's magnification was overkill for such big targets, but falls clear now. He also silently takes pride in guessing the magnification correctly.

The stallion stuffs the ball back into the duffle then takes out something else, a bolt, one where its tip is hued a faint purple color. "Gotta take the shot soon. Don't want it getting too dark on us."

Crimson takes the bolt and sets it in the slide. With a mighty pull, he gets the string back and locks it. He hears a snicker come from his partner.

"Well damn, Sky. If it was that easy for you, could you do mine?"

"T'chu mean?"

"What do you mean 't'chu mean'? This shit's hard as fuck to pull back. Give me a hoof, would ya'?"

"Done it before, haven't you?"

"Don't be like that, c'mon."

He glares sternly at the unruly stallion. With a roll of his eyes, he gives him the crossbow he already pulled back and takes the other one, getting the bolt in the slide and hauling the thick rope-for-a-string back. It marks and imprints its jagged pattern on his fingers, it certainly hurts to do.

"You're a champ, Sky. Now c'mon, haven't got much time left. And - make sure not to miss. Alright?"

"Yeah."

‎

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Moonlight's Room ~<
March 25th, Sunday, 21:24

‎

"That's basically the gist of it," Magnifying concludes his explanation.

"And you have until the end of the month to get this done?" Moonlight replies with mild disconcert.

"Yes, but truth be told, it's more than enough time! It's been in production for far too long now, so wrapping things up would only be natural. Do you plan on coming to the Games?"

"..." The visibly perturbed Moonlight opens her mouth to give a reply, but midway decides to discard what she was going to say and gives a different response. "I-I don't think I like the idea of having my magic being bound..."

"W-Worry not, Moonlight, my dear! It does not have lasting effects, and the headaches that I was telling you about before have ceased after I changed the manipulation property! By the time the Royal Games roll around, the nullifier ring will be completely safe for unicorns of all ages!"

Moonlight still internally debates the idea. "... It's next month, right?"

"Indeed!" he nods excitedly. The energy he feels is sapped slightly when he notes the solemnness falling on Moonlight's face. He wonders were it is suddenly coming from, if not by the question he just asked. "W-Well... I-I for one... would love to have your company during the Games. So, if... you could please, at least, consider it..."

Moonlight's wistful gaze raises to meet his. Tired, exhausted. Silence consumes the room, only briefly interrupted by, "I will consider it, Magnifying."

"Tha-Thank you... M-Moonlight."

After that, the silence continues. Their eyes do not come apart. The ticking of the clock in its rhythmic pattern is the only retrievable sound - the big hand marking over the ten while the middle hand somewhere between the forty-five and fifty.

Magnifying finds his mouth dry under Moonlight's lightless gaze. Her orbs look... empty. A certain twinkle must have recently found its expiration, leaving pink irises that surround a deeply-infinite pond of blackness. They continue to pierce his own. His throat accompanies the desert in his mouth, dry and hot.

"Magnifying..." Moonlight suddenly breaks the silence.

"Y-Yes? Moonlight?" he nearly chokes on his own breath.

"I think I'm going to lie down for a while... I'm sorry..."

Magnifying swallows another clump. "Eh-erh, I... ..." He finds himself at a complete loss for nearly five seconds. "... Of course. P-Please rest well, Moonlight... Let-Let me know if you need anything... okay?"

"I will."

This curt response commands Magnifying to rise from the table. He bothers not packing anything up, cleaning, or taking leftovers. He simply rises and takes his slow leave - his body feels like it's going numb. He gives a wry glance to see what she's doing. Moonlight's vacant gaze stays put. It shifts nowhere while the stallion opens and shuts the door behind him.

Uncounted time passes. Moonlight moves not an inch.

Terminal Shipment

~ Canterlot Castle, Moonlight's Room ~<
March 26th, Monday, 7:30

‎

Knock, knock, knock, knock...

...

"... I can't do this anymore..."

‎

‎ ‎

~ Equestria, The Slums ~<
March 26th, Monday, 8:41

‎

Early Monday morning, the duo hike along the sanded roads of the Slums. The morning feels less murky and a bit more breathable, but still undeniably unclean. The two bicker as they walk, one reluctant, the other headstrong.

"Ain't a need fer this, I told you already."

"Around here, Sky, a job well-done gets rewarded. These last few days went off without a hitch. A week full of hits and not one was bombed."

"Weren't difficult tasks."

"See, I agree with you, but I've been stuck with kinds that can't hack it like we can. Makes you really appreciate having good backup."

"How 'bout we save the 'reward' till after we're done. We still got more to come."

They arrive at a small shack-like shop a bit deeper into the Slums, inside a circular clearing that gives way to multiple little stores with no customers to inhabit them.

"How about you quit the flapping and say thank you. You said you wanted it, now you're gonna get it. More to come if you keep it up." Crimson huffs in resignation. As Axel finishes his sentence, he swats the cloth flap that covers the entrance to the shack. It immediately reeks of iron and flesh - a butchery. Crimson steps in, ducking his head slightly as to not hit the doorframe, and Axel follows behind him. "What d'ya think?"

The man takes in the shop - it's rather small, discreet, almost forgotten. An older griffon with grizzled, broken feathers and an eyepatch over his left eye runs the counter. He appears preoccupied chopping up a moderately large haunch of beef. The counter he works at is lit up by soft amber lights, and under it behind a glass display is several cuts of meats, poultries, and fishes all embedded into ice. The entire aesthetic is almost exactly that of the butcheries he'd visit back on Earth, albeit a bit more formally presented in comparison to this hidey-hole.

"Axel," the griffon grumbles without looking up from his work.

"Yo," he responds airily. "Been a minute, Tikko."

"For good reason," Tikko retorts with one rather aggressive chop of the haunch.

"No reason to get sappy. Just here to buy."

The griffon's eyes lift upwards from his chin-ducked position, glaring at both him and Crimson. His judgmental gaze is accompanied by no words. Looking back down, he continues chopping without much grace.

Crimson is impressed regardless. He's done hunting, skinning, and prep himself back at home. While there's no form to the motion, the cuts themselves land at the right spots, separating meat from bone, tendons and fat - an accuracy of a professional.

"What'll you be having." The griffon grunts as more of a statement than a question.

Axel and Crimson share a glance, the stallion tilts his head to the left to signal the go-ahead.

Dubious, with a pursing of lips, the man squints his eyes at the selection before him, wondering if this is a good idea. Though, he's quickly distracted - staring at all of this produce makes him realize how desperately he missed this. An herbivore's diet may be achievable by humans, but certainly not this human. This one needs meat.

One wry, savory idea strikes him. Most butchers had some at home just for the occasion, he hopes it translates to Equestria. "Got bread?"

"Do."

An internal fist-pump. Crimson contains his saliva and follows up, "I'll take some short rib and bread."

Tikko stops cutting, glancing up at the man seriously. "Could just ask for the sandwich. Can make it."

"I'd be obliged."

With one slight nod, the butcher finishes cutting up his meat before taking the tray to storage behind a curtain.

"A meat sandwich?" Axel questions curiously.

"You should try it," the man grins.

"Indigestion is great, but I'll pass."

The man shrugs and focuses back to Tikko returning to the counter with two plastic bags in claw, one with a bread loaf and the other with cold ribbed meat already cooked. Both are situated onto the countertop and reached into to begin preparation. The duo watch the butcher make quick work of two bread slices and an amalgam of diced meat chunks. To one, it smells like heaven, to the other, like disgorge.

Tikko hits a bell on the counter to ding off the finished product. One sizable short rib sandwich. Crimson admires it for a moment, seeing it wrapped in white butcher paper, before following Axel to the counter. The stallion takes out his coin purse to provide payment, the man takes his food.

"Thanks, Tikko," Axel gives the griffon an affable smile and slides the appropriate amount of bits his way. Tikko says nothing, accepts the payment and stores them somewhere under the counter with a clinking of other coins. "Let's go. Eat that on the road to our rally point."

The man nods and shadows Axel out of the butchery.

"Appreciate it, Axel," Crimson express after a few steps out.

"Thank yourself. You earned your own cake."

"Still. Didn't have to go out of yer way."

"Like you said, it's not a big deal."

A brief silence passes between them before Crimson speaks up again. "He took a talkin' human pretty well."

"Trust me when I say we've seen some shit. You'll become less impressive the deeper we get."

"Good."

"Heh, you can say that again."

"I'd be ripe to guess he's been proximate to the Black Horseshoes."

"Yeah. He's an ex-Featherline."

Crimson juggles his muse, recalling the events of the mountain - the events with the Lieutenant, and the Elite. It doesn't feel like it happened too long ago, yet feels as if it were a lifetime ago. The passage of time is pensively setting in.

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Moonlight's Room ~<
March 26th, Monday, 8:00

‎ ‎

Knock, knock, knock, knock

Dreaded rapping of a hard hoof on heavy metal.

He's back. The peace of silence departs too soon. From where ever he went, he's returned to try again for the nth time this morning.

She has been hesitating to rise from her bed - nothing inside her yearns to answer the door. Guilt wells inside. It feels... wrong, shutting him out. The conflict of emotion aches her chest, each heartbeat felt pumping her grief.

She doesn't know how long she can keep this up. She might break before he gives up. She can't imagine having to explain herself if he feels like he's being ignored, which isn't far from the truth now.

Knock, knock, knock

He's been trying for hours, he wants to be let in. Moonlight knows he wants to discuss the events of last night, but she is not prepared to. Tugs and urges, she tries her best not to fall tempted to answer the door.

She had asked him to give her space yesterday, but why does it feel unfair? She knows she isn't obligated to let him in. Nothing feels right - her head is a disarranged mess and she wants it to stop. If she can just hold out, if she can just pretend she's not here...

"Head Researcher Wish, are you home?"

Her ears perk quickly. That was not Magnifying's voice, instead the deeper, masculine call of one of the guards. With a quivering breath, she sits up from her bed and pats her mane down promptly, throwing on her Scribe cloak before descending the staircase towards her door.

As she approaches the door, she hears some muffled discussion being had on the other side. It's the guard... and...

"I don't think she's in! I've tried already!"

"Ah, is that so?"

"Likely! I've been trying all day, even searched the Castle grounds for her!"

"Very troublesome. There is an important matter I must disclose to her personally. Would you happen to know her last location?"

Moonlight's inhale catches. Magnifying is indeed out there, along with whatever guard is trying to garner her attention. She has the faintest idea what the guard could possibly want with her now. Aside from disenchanting the belt, which was already done and reported, all has been quiet for the last two months. Not a word or whisper from Celestia or the Consortium. She can't afford to miss something potentially from the princess, but... but Magnifying...

"It was her room! She always answers the door for me, never fails! As I said, I've been returning and knocking every so-often to make sure she's back! So I assume she's still out!"

"I see. Very well, I shall gather some more guards and we shall deploy a search party."

"No!" With a harsh gulp, her magical aura takes the right door and opens it steadily until she appears into frame. The guard and Magnifying sharply turn their attention to her, where the Scribe is... shocked, put lightly.

"Moonlight?" he calls in disbelief. "... You...?"

Moonlight cowers slightly and lowers her head.

"Head Researcher Wish, thank goodness," the guard bows deeply with closed eyes before standing at attention again. "Thank you for humbling me with your presence. Princess Celestia has very important news, she requests your attention immediately."

"Oh-- Uhm, I, um..." she squints and freezes in place, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. Under the gape of Magnifying, fully telling of his hurt at being willfully ignored, it's challenging to think. This is exactly what she wanted to avoid.

"... Y-You heard the corporal, Moonlight," Magnifying croaks before his voice stabilizes, reassuring the mare, "please grace Celestia. W-Wouldn't want to make her wait, would we?"

"As the Scribe states," the guard adds, "please let us hurry. Our highness marks this as urgent."

Moonlight clenches her teeth and simply nods twice, too corked up to try and speak. She levitates her hood onto her head and tails the guard. Said guard about-faces promptly to guide her.

A quick and wry glance to her left, she sees Magnifying giving her a dejected smile. The guilt is like a smoldering fire in her throat.

‎

~~~<

‎

The two large golden doors open at Moonlight's wake, giving way to the bright sunlight-lit throne room. Intimidated, her legs quiver at taking her first steps.

Celestia watches with a soft gaze, allowing the time her pupil needs to stand before her. Finally, Moonlight gives a deep bow, prompting the princess to rise. She comes down the staircase to lift Moonlight, holding onto her cheek. "What did I tell you about bowing?"

"... T-That it's... n-not necessary? Anymore?"

Celestia nods without her simper waning. The shuddering blue mare returns a quick and anxious nod. The princess takes this moment to bring her in for a hug, not only to indulge in each other company, but to give Moonlight time to ease her tense nerves.

After a minute, they come apart and gaze into each other's eyes - the sunlight from the outside bounces off their irises.

"T-The guard..." Moonlight begins before clearing her throat, "the guard said that something important was at hoof?"

"Indeed," Celestia smiles warmly. "Especially for you, my pupil. Great discoveries have been made since your work on the Belt." Moonlight beams with an open-mouth smile at hearing this. "After we received your report and studied back the enchantment traces from the Belt, we discovered it belonged to a historical earth pony named Uru many moons ago."

"Uru?" Moonlight echoes.

The princess nods, "He was very powerful, both physically and mentally. He was one of the original founders of Equestria and a major asset in the Great War."

"A founder of Equestria? Why have I never heard of him? None of the history books or chronologies I've studied mentioned him."

"That is what has stumped us currently, we are unsure why his being is not recorded in modern texts."

"Then... how was this information found?"

Celestia lines her lips just briefly a sudden flash of reservation. "... Keep this between you and I, my dearest Moonlight. Would you?"

Obvious confusion takes Moonlight, but she obeys nonetheless. "O-Of course, princess."

"... Indeed, it was one of the Consortium operatives that obtained this information from one of the old cellar vaults. Months of work went into finding any relevant information there."

"Wow, those old writings?" Moonlight reels back slightly. "But I thought many of those were folklore or traditional tales. With how poorly kept and incomprehensible they are, I'm shocked anypony could still discern the scribbles, much less learn something important from them. ... But I suppose it makes sense. There are some of ponykind's oldest writings and records in the cellar. Maybe time forgot to pass on their wisdom."

Celestia states with an accusative raising of her brow, "Snooping around, were you?"

Moonlight cowers down as her ears fall to her head. "... M-Maybe o-once or twice, a-after my promotion to Head Researcher." The mare purses her lips under the five-ton gaze that presses her. "P-Please forgive me, Celestia! I know it's a restricted area, I just-- I wanted to--!"

Celestia giggles lightly, causing Moonlight to stop in her tracks. "Please, Moonlight, I am not upset with you. I only fear for your safety. Those regions of the Castle are not maintained any longer, I don't want you spelunking for knowledge in a place where the walls may very-well fall on you. That is why we have our operators to do that for us."

Moonlight simmers down and pouts. "... Thank you for worrying about me."

Celestia closes her eyes and smiles before continuing. "Though, I agree with you. Most of those writings were all but forgotten, even to our brightest minds. You are one of the few scholars that can read and interpret Old Ponish, much has been lost over such a long time. We simply do not want any hooves damaging or destroying what needs to be preserved."

Moonlight bites her lower lip in contemplation. "... I wonder what else may be found in the vaults. So many secrets stashed away. A millennium of stories written, waiting to be translated and discerned... the thought of so much overshadowed information!" She speaks with rising gusto. "I'm getting so excited at just the thought! Princess, do you think we could get all of the writings from there and migrate them to the Research Labs? If one operative from the Consortium was able to retrieve such profound information, imagine what the Researchers could learn!"

Celestia purses his lips quickly, as if taken off-guard by the request, but quickly recomposes with a small smile. "I am unsure of that Moonlight. As I have said, this is not for public disclosure of any kind." The unicorn's expression visibly drops to uncertainty. Guilt hangs over the princess's head at the sight of a pouting Moonlight, which only becomes increasingly difficult to bare as the seconds pass. "... But... perhaps... I can arrangement something. It make take sometime."

Moonlight beams again. "Yay! Thank you, thank you, Celestia! Thank you so much! Hoh, this is so exciting! I can't wait to tear those writings apart!"

"Patience, dearest Moonlight. Patience." Moonlight nods repeatedly to contain her elation. "Soon we should have what we need to send the Elite to another retrieval, and with any luck, come back with another relic. For now, focus your mind and your resources on preparing for it."

"I will, yes, princess!"

"Now," Celestia fastens her expression a bit too quickly, steering Moonlight to follow suit with disquiet, "onto a matter more closely related to you. Moonlight." The little mare's front tightens anxiously. "About the letter you sent me last night."

"Y-Yes?"

"... Your home near Baltimare. Does your previous request still stand true?"

"..." Moonlight sits in a heavy silence, knowing what Celestia is implying. "... Yes. It does."

"Even after all this time?" Moonlight nods twice, keeping her gaze away from Celestia's strict, motherly stare. With an exhale through her nose, Celestia looks out towards the stained glass in reverie. "I had some free time. I was able to visit it four nights ago after a congregation at Baltimare. I did not want to intrude but... I never had the chance to see it for myself. I hope you do not mind."

Surprise takes Moonlight and she stares right up at her. "N-No, not at all, princess! ... Y-You... you visted it my home there?"

Celestia nods once, "And it was beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, I believe it puts the Royal Gardens to shame. All of that love and care... years of work and diligence. My only regret was to not have visited you much sooner."

Moonlight locks eyes with the carpet below her in rumination.

"The timing was impeccable - witnessing the marvel of your work, only to receive a letter shortly after where you'd wish to discard it all?"

Moonlight squints. Stillness takes the throne room for but a moment...

"... Our maids are still on standby if you would like to retract your decision."

"N-... No. It's okay. Please allow them to stay here."

"May I ask why?"

Again, silence envelops the air. Thick, like a smog which pilfers any words from the little unicorns mouth. Piecing together the strength to speak again is too difficult, until Celestia herself speaks for her.

"Is it because of him?" Moonlight gasps and immediately looks up at the princess. "... He was not there for very long, but..."

Celestia stops speaking in hopes that Moonlight would pick it up from there. Luckily after a stiff silence, she does. "But I... it all... it all reminds me of him. The flowers... the rocks. Even the way the air smells there, it... all I can think about is him... when you first sent him... when he calmed me down... when he..." she pauses briefly, "... I can't..." her voice quivers and breaks. She huffs in frustration and straightens her posture. "I need to respect his decision. And move on." Tears well in her eyes immediately after she finishes, but none of them run.

Celestia squints earnestly, allowing some space to breath for the little unicorn before trying to give her more words to process. "It is nopony's home but yours, Moonlight. You musn't allow this to take it away. Some things come and go... but what remains is what you allow to. New memories may be forged. New attachments will be had."

It is apparent Moonlight is listening, but says nothing. The lack of reply speaks for her.

"You still have some time think it over, my dearest. Please make sure it is what you truly want."

"... It is," the unicorn peeps out barely above a whisper. Celestia's eyes drop to the carpet, where one tear streams and lands onto it. This one single tear drives the final nail in the coffin, solidifying the decision for the princess. "... The monthly human rallies... e-end them. Please."

Celestia's mouth opens aghast. "End them? But Moonlight, I orchestrated them for you. Your research. Surely you remember your excitement when I proposed it? Your studies have advanced the field greatly, the resources we gathered and talent we hired specifically for this research, surely you could continue--"

"Please..."

Celestia clenches her teeth in discourage.

"... It's for the best."

A vicious quietness lingers in the air, bitter for both parties. It takes the mare lifting her tear-ridden orbs to the princess. A faint, weak smile presents itself on her lips. "N-Now you can try to pass that legislation... it's been in hiatus because of me."

It dawns on Celestia what she is referring to. "Nh... no, Moonlight. It was not delayed because of you, that was my decision, and solely mine. Please do not blame yourself for it." She releases a stressed yet yielding breath. "But... yes. You are right. At least with this out of the way, it's time a decision is made - it has been postponed for far too long." She draws a deep breath, releasing it just as slow. "The impact of such a decision will have lasting effects. I truly wonder what would be best for Equestria." Moonlight puckers her lips and holds herself from trying to opine. "... What do you think, my pupil? I remember you giving me quite an analysis when the legislation was first presented six years ago."

The little unicorn internally curses Celestia's ability to recall things with such precision. Even she herself forgot about most of what she discussed. Now that she puts mind to it, it gradually comes back to her. "... Um... well, it really... depends..."

"On?" She eggs the mare on with a small smile.

"O-One is... safer. The other is, well, better... for... for the economy?"

"May you elaborate?"

"Humans, um... well... we already know what humans are capable of, but... putting that aside. If we choose to uphold the ban on their publicized presence, we'll keep things... safe. Nothing will change, really. Other than maybe the human market. It might get a little sonorous. Which will make them harder to access. M-Maybe that's the intention."

"Very astute. But now, what if we publicized humans? What do you suppose the consequences would be?"

"If the ban was lifted, humans would likely become apart of our daily lives. More accepted, maybe. They are capable of being very productive parts of society. I-I'd like to think that the flashy, extravagant part of human culture will remain the same, but now... now the Consortium have more avenues to tax for licenses and ownership. That should help fund the civil construction budget. I-I know progress in trying to connect the major cities has slowed terribly, so that should help. This... all sounds great, but... but the risk of humans persists. They are still unpredictable and can cause harm. We may fall into civil unrest. Protests. Anarchy, even."

Celestia nods proudly, almost as if hearing her own exact thoughts being divulged to a T. "And do you suppose this probable harm is worth the benefit?"

"... I'm not sure."

With a grand smile, Celestia continues, "Then let us discuss." Her horn begins to glow with its yellow aura, and in a blink, parchment and a quill appears, borrowed from her very own quarters. "With my most prolific human connoisseur, I will make the right decision."

Moonlight is rightfully surprised at Celestia going to her for help on this matter. It's a heavy responsibility to shoulder, but with the princess's warm smile to accompany her heart, she'll do her best for her mentor.

Together they parley further.

‎

‎

‎

~ Equestria, the Western Grasslands ~<
March 26th, Monday, 13:22

‎

"I ain't sure I should be too close to yer kind."

"You said that already," Axel replies boringly. "Listen, Sky, I get you're nervous, but I wouldn't do anything if I wasn't sure of it." Together they march along the grassy plains of western Equestria. "Just keep doing what I tell you and we'll be fine. Remember the plan?"

"Low and slow."

"Good."

Crimson licks his teeth, mulling to himself. "Color me surprised, thought you load-down with Moobs."

"Kidding? I can't stay in that shit-hole for more than a day before I get sick from the smog. He just gives me a livable stay when I've got business there."

"Don't you still?"

"Not directly. It's still in Gloriosa's stead, but the we've wiped the grime off the counter. Now we're dealing with the props. Things are about to get interesting."

"Reckon they were already."

Axel sneers.

They continue their trek across the land until the horizon line gives way to a endless body of water, then, a beach. The air rapidly turns humid and vaguely salty, in spite of being about a mile from shore. The grand cloud city of Las Pegasus is visible in the distance, but too far to be detailed. Remarkably, Canterlot can be seen as well, far off as a glittering spec.

Another city directly at their front has formed amongst the obscure - their objective location can finally be heeded after an hour of walking.

"What's this placed called again?" Crimson queries.

"Dude, this is the third time I'm telling you. Los Ungulas. Lippy's brain magic not working too well or what?"

"You'd forgive my incognizance. Ain't a word I've ever heard before. Sounds odd too."

"Don't worry, you got me to help you get your gears turning." He turns to the man giddily. "Come on, say it with me. It'll help you eventually. 'Uhn...'"

"..."

"'Juu...'"

"..."

...

Axel crinkles his brows at the man. "Dude, come on."

"I can recall it now, no need."

"Quit being such a pussyhoof. Just say it with me."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"What's my reward?"

"Alright, see, I like that mindset. How about this: if you remember how to say it after we finish our dues, I'll treat you to another one of those bread-meats."

"That bread-meat sure was good."

"Throw in a beer if you say it with me." Axel sees the man's intrigue pique when they make eye-contact. "Aaaah," he waives a hoof accusingly, "thought I wouldn't remember last night's convo, did ya'?"

"Beer's a vice." The man replies grimly, though it doesn't take more than a second for his front to cast a grin. "But one wouldn't hurt."

"So we got a deal?"

"Hmh," Crimson leers. "After you."

Axel winks, holding his eye closed until he begins, "'Uhn...'"

"'On...'"

"'Juu...'"

"'Juu...'"

"'Laas.'"

"Luss.'"

"Los Ungulas." "Los Ungulas."

They echo together at the end, piecing together their enunciation. With a chuckle, Axel shakes his head. "Close enough, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I guess."

"Nah, come on, it was perfect."

"Far from it, pal."

"Now yer just bein' hard."

"Say it again and I'll point out the flaws. Trust me, there's plenty."

"It's a three syllable word, what'chu mean 'plenty'?"

"Say it again!"

Their quarrel continues as the city comes closer. The sun of noon shines directly above them, giving the land a perfect luminant glow.

‎

~~~<

‎

By the time they reach the city, the sun is on its way down. The city of Los Ungulas appears to be a harbor town, where many docks and seaworthy transportation set off or arrive with goods. The buildings, homes, and shops all range from antique to fairly modern in appearance. There's a number of high-rises and fancy-looking buildings around, the roads are paved with stone block and concrete, but a lot of the city outskirts rest in dirt or sand. It gives off a striking air of modernity, but by no means a regal presence like Canterlot. A very middle-class approach.

Something Crimson immediately distinguishes is other humans. People from all colors of the wheel, ranging in stature and appearance, all scattered about. Granted, they're all guided by ponies, but they at least look to be roaming around with their respective owners. Some of them appear to be cargo, coming in from boats or taking off in them. Other seem to be pets.

To his note, the humans are all modest as well. None of them are wandering in the nude. Nothing fancy or especially interesting, but all clothed in something. Ranging from burlap sack drawers to cloth shirts and shorts, the cool humid air of the city makes less clothing preferable. Their pony masters at least have a sense to adapt them to the weather.

He still feels unbefitting here, but at least he knows he's not alone. He recalls the plan he and Axel conferred on their journey, one they jointly and full-heartedly agreed upon: stay quiet, no sudden movements, and don't look anypony in the eye. If they need to communicate, a discreet tap on the side.

Crimson keeps just behind Axel as they venture through town - many a edifice line the streets that they now walk through. The man's boots give a slightly unique plant against the hooves and sandals from other denizens. He tries to adhere to Axel's command to prevent any eye-contact with the locals, but he does shoot stray glances to take everything and everyone in.

To his wonderment, he isn't stalked or gawked at for too long by anyone. A few wry glances and stares make him feel contrasted to the scene, but nothing to write home about. Axel doesn't seem to fret either. Within a few minutes of being apart of this new community, he feels comfortable that he won't get pinned.

Axel stops upon the entrance of a high-rise, one that incorporates many windows that scale up for fourteen stories. A minimalist logo etched at the front of the building depicts a green gem with a white half-wreath around it.

"We're here," the stallion utters under his breath. He glances back to ensure he's still being followed. Well enough, the lumbering man is still at his six.

Crimson is able to see a lobby behind the wood and glass doors that bar off the inside. He isn't sure what he expected Axel's home to be, but he supposes a suite in a grand hotel seems appropriate.

Axel opens the door for the man and together they enter the distinct auberge. There's a lack of a receptionist at the ornate wooden desk in the center of the room, but Crimson heeds the scattered muscle standing posted at different corners of the room and adjacent halls. All earth ponies wearing the same white shirt with one black stripe at each sleeve, and solid black pants. Their shirts have the hotel's logo stitched to the left breast.

Axel treks past the receptionist desk, pacing around it to the steel doors of the elevators just over yonder. He reaches into his shirt's chest pocket and takes out a badge and places it up to a little black slot near the elevator controls. He slips it in, a click is heard, and a soft ding rings from the panel. The badge is regurgitated by the contraption and Axel takes it back.

Crimson marvels at the technologies he's beholding. Nothing like anything back in Earth. He assumes magic is playing a huge role in this land's development, most of this doesn't seem feasible.

Once the steel doors to one of the cabins opens, the duo steps in and takes their ascent.

The man feels eyes upon him - Axel's. He returns the contact behind the shade of his hair. Upon their stares meeting, Axel shoots a intrepid smile. Crimson returns a hardly noticeable smile of his own.

The bell dings out their arrival, together they exit just as a group of ponies entered an adjacent elevator across the hall. Axel brushes quickly to the left. Crimson follows behind him, weighing the environment.

There is plenty of space between each door. The man surmises that the rooms must be spacious and accommodating. The carpet muffles their steps comfortably, and there's a grand view from the occasional window panel they elapse. Much of Equestria's oceans establish the scenery as Axel's suite is located nearly at the top.

Axel stops at non-distinct door at the very end of the hall, taking his badge out to follow the same process. He introduces it into a black slot next to his door, it clicks, and access is accorded.

Badge returned, he pushes the door open and grins, "Make yourself at home."

‎

~~~~~<

‎

"Now I get it," Crimson states as he rests in a beanbag chair, ogling the ceiling that rises up fifteen meters.

"What?" Axel responds with equal leisure.

The man reaches for his drink which sits on the table at his side, taking a swig from it before resting the bottom of the bottle on his right pec. "Why you can't stay in the Slums."

Axel delivers a healthy chuckle. "It's not that I can't, I'll be there as long as I need to. But! Not a second longer."

Crimson taps the neck of his bottle with his index finger, taking another look around this incredibly posh residence. The whole unit is one large room, section out into its individual parts, but with plenty of space for everything. The only separation to be had is the restroom, which indeed is held off by a door.

The front door gives entry to the living room where they currently unwind. Just past the living room going forward are immense rectangular window panels that give a view to the oceans.

To the left of the front door is where the bedroom, restroom, and reading quarters are located. The bed is bigger than necessary, modern in semblance, and the little library isn't anything noteworthy.

To the right is where the kitchen and a dining table are situated. Plenty of modern appliances and cutlery alongside a table that sits up to eight individuals, six if they happen to be of larger stature.

All of this is accompanied by a blue, grey, and orange color palette. Stringed lights hang around the seams of the walls and ceiling. Crimson bets they'd add more of a certain milieu once they're turned on in the evening.

The man returns his gaze to his bottle, lifting it to present the label to himself. It's a photo of a stocky pony's face with a beard giving a stern scowl, colored in multiple shades of brown and orange, with text under that reads illegible to him. He refrains from speaking his mind, but he muses at the length of time it's been since he's had root beer last.

"You look like you've got a thought or more," Axel comments.

"Too many."

The unruly stallion chugs the remaining portion of his drink and releases a resonating burp. He sets the bottle down on the table and crosses his arms over his chest. "What's jiggling?"

Crimson pauses to think about what he's actually thinking about. It's mostly scattered, but he conjures a response. "What our next move is, I suppose."

"Getting stressed about finally hitting the big leagues?"

The man shakes his head slowly. He turns his gaze to meet Axel's before continuing. "Speakin' of. You gonna tell me what we're in for? Ain't given me a lick thus far."

Axel turns away and closes his eyes, comfortably resting into the beanbag. "Guess you're right. None of it is magic science, but... maybe a bit tricky." He opens one eye to give a smirking simper to the man. "You ready for this?"

Crimson sits up from his reclining position, intent on listening carefully. "Hit me."

"Got some old crew around here, more specifically the ops manager, he's been trying to take matters into his own hooves. Not abiding by the tenets he's bound to. Not cool, y'know?"

"I'd bet."

"So him and his ponies got it out for me because of some missing funds from several of their shipments. Those bits rightly belong to Gloriosa, so I decided to... push some of the proceeds under the rug for her. They've been in debt to her for a few years now, after she helped their sorry asses rebuild several ships they lost to a pirate raid, not counting material and produce recovery costs, and labor costs from contracting her own ponies for the repairs. You can imagine how much came out of her pocket."

"All together, how much money we talkin'?"

"Enough to retire every pony in Los Ungulas. Comfortably."

Crimson wrinkles his brows. "And they've been cuttin' her raw?"

"Worse. Not only have they stopped paying her all together, they've engaged a silent turf war. They've attacked her strength and her establishment multiple times, but always manage to lose the blame. They pull some strings with one of the other honchos who dominates Equestria's north-eastern region. If these bastards had the chance, they'd go for her life. So now, we're going to settle the score for Gloriosa... and then some," Axel appears rather amused at how he finished his own sentence. "First, I'll need to get in touch with some friends. They'll be our main asset for this. But for you, I'll be using your expertise to get the party started."

The man's left brow raises.

"Very important to note: if you fuck anything up, we're both screwed. It's gonna be tight, and we'll need some luck, but I trust you with this." Crimson nods in acknowledgement. "The ops manager still thinks we can work something out, so we'll be using this to our advantage to get in nice and close. If all goes well, it'll be less than ten minutes of heat. In and out."

"Just tell me what to do."

The stallion grins deviously. "Alright. So this is what I'm thinking..."

‎

~~~~<

‎

Night has fallen over Equestria, the moon shines brilliantly tonight. The port city of Los Ungulas still bustles with life afterhours - the lighthouse which overlooks the city's waters provides a beacon to the ever-coming ships. Ponies roam about their business, a spare few still accompanied by their humans.

Axel Flex walks along the boulevard's sidewalk, eyes uninterested in his environment and fixed only forward. He navigates the lamppost-illuminated streets towards one of the piers, one particular landing where a sheet-metal and wood warehouse stands tall. This building appears as a carbon-copy of others like it around the bay, nothing about it speaks out as special. Nevertheless, this is his destination.

Swerving through wooden crates and metal cargo, the winds and currents of the oceans ruffle his amber-orange mane. His hoof-landings upon the board cease once he arrives at a metal door at the back entrance to the warehouse. Two ponies standing side-by-side converse, one a unicorn, the other earth. Both give an intimidating air, that of henchmen in uniform with blades at their sides.

They both glare boredly at the stallion who approaches them. The earth pony speaks up first, "Look who finally decided to show up."

"Good evening, fellas," Axel replies.

"Shut it, Axel. You've been putting this off for almost three weeks. He's pissed."

"And so are we," the unicorn spits bitterly.

"Hey, he's your payroll, not me," Axel retorts. "He should be keeping your pockets full even without me in the mix."

"You're lucky the boss likes you. Don't make it worse on yourself with that mouth," the earth pony snarls and moves away from his partner to open the metal door.

With an indifferent huff, Axel raises his brows and proceeds to enter. This entrance leads up a flight of stairs to a second-floor catwalk that oversees the first floor, where all of the cargo is located and workers actively push and pull products.

Just before Axel disappears through the doorway, he gives a sidelong glance behind him and licks the left corner of his lips. Then, the door closes behind him.

The earth stallion huffs an annoyed breath after closing the door and proceeds to lock it behind Axel. "That fucking dirt-bag better not flake out on us again," he turns to return to his post, "you know what I'm sayi--? Hgh-mhgph!"

A hand reaches from the darkness to claps his face. He is pulled in quickly before another hand grasps his throat. In a quick and effortless motion, his head is twisted violently to the left, followed by the crescendo of his spinal cord breaking. His lifeless body is carried into the darkness and deposited harmlessly behind some dusty, forgotten crates aside the warehouse... right next to the unicorns body.

Axel walks without haste along the metal mesh of the catwalk. Some of the workers and henchmen spot him, all of them giving him spiteful glares. The pegasus is unphased and maintains his stride.

He ascends another set of a few metal steps towards the highest section of the catwalk, right above the very center of the warehouse. From this point moving forward, it's a straight shot to an office at the opposite end of the warehouse. A metal door bars it off, but a rectangular paneled window reveals lights and movement inside. Very agitated movement. Said window isn't fully see-through, it is made of some sort of resilient plastic instead of glass.

Without apprehension, he continues. As he approaches the office, workers and henchmen completely stop their tasks to glare daggers at him. Some of the muscle even relocates to any potential exits, whether it be an act of duress or tactical advantage. Or both.

Once he reaches the door, he lifts a hoof to push the door-handle in, but pulls it back slightly when the door opens without his touch. A rather anguished henchman opens it. Grabbed by the collar of his shirt, Axel is forced inside with a mighty heave by the large earth stallion. He stumbles but quickly regains his balance, shrugging to fit his shirt comfortably again.

Axel is greeted by a scene - an earth stallion sitting behind a baroque oak desk surrounded by four henchmen, not including the one that hauled him in. The henchmen consist of two earth ponies and two unicorns, where the unicorns stand closer to the desk. The figure that glares behind the desk has hooves crossed over his mouth, emanating a very displeased verve. The office itself is luxurious and void of outside disturbance, in contrast to the dingy working environment of the warehouse.

Axel bounces his glance upon each character around him. It comes to a stop at the main cheese. No words are said by anyone for a good few seconds, letting the heavy silence deeply seep in.

"... I wish we'd meet again on better terms, boy," the earth stallion utters from behind his hooves.

"That's a wish if I've ever heard one," Axel replies. "It's best if we focused on reality, Poronto."

"And in that we agree." The stallion named Poronto looks at the burly stallion that handled Axel earlier. He waves at him, signaling him to close the door. The large henchmen takes the hint and shuts the door rather calmly. "Why'd you do it, Axel? Not looking to twist your arm, I'm genuinely curious."

"What difference would it make if I told you?"

"Well..." Poronto comes off his hooves and sits up straight, "could at least ease the tensions, you know? Maybe reopen some of the avenues we had to work together again."

"That really is wishful thinking."

"You hassling me won't make this easier for anypony."

"I just don't get what you wanna accomplish by bringing me back here. I don't have your money. If you're looking to kill me, then do it. You don't need to drag this out."

"Stars damn it, boy!" the stallion huffs in frustration and furrows his brows. "Work with me here! I don't wanna lose you! It doesn't need to be said, but you can be replaced at any moment!" He points his hoof at himself in a quick snap. "But I don't want that!"

"It's not about what you want, Poronto. It never was. It's about what Gloriosa wants. You've forgotten that already."

The earth stallion grits his teeth in anger. "You riding her ass like this won't get you any brownie points, Axel. Her time is dead and gone!"

Axel crinkles his front with agitation. "I never understood why you hated her so much. She helped you out, she was nothing but graceful to you and your ponies. You two could have worked together, like it was intended."

"I do not hate her, and her kindness is not unappreciated. But she is unfit for her position. The way she runs things is questionable at best, time only worsens it. And the most dreadful of it, she won't listen to my advice. Just like you. The Family agrees. You know what they're aiming to do. You KNOW what's coming next."

"The Family?" Axel questions with the raising of his brow. He follows up with a smirk and a hearty chuckle. "The Family... Poronto..." The unicorn stallion grits his teeth at Axel's condescending tone. "The random hits on Gloriosa's strength? The "cargo" - anthrax crates? Bombs? Almost burning down the club with that molotov attack? The Family approved all that, right? That wasn't just you being a petty piece of shit?"

Poronto scowls bitingly. "I never--"

"Can't lie to me, Poronto." Axel's grin widens ever-so slightly. "Know that every single warehouse that you own here, all of your strength... by tomorrow morning it'll all belong to Gloriosa."

"You've always had a big fucking mouth, boy," Poronto hisses. "And now you've forced my hoof. Any last words?"

"You're fucked."

He leans forward and hides his mouth behind his hooves, just as he had when Axel entered. "Kill him." The large stallion at Axel's side grabs him and restrains him, and the guards besides Poronto reach for their weapons, the unicorns with swords, the earth stallions with crossbows.

Without delay, Axel releases a clamorous whistle.

A metal sheet panel is kicked in from the ceiling and in drops a black shade from above. The panel lands on a unicorn stallion at Poronto's left side, where the human comes down and tackles both guards on the right side. The stallions grabbed by the man are lifted into the air as he stands back up, and both are brought together so their heads collide ferociously.

This distraction gives Axel a moment to quickly flail out his arms and break the galoot's grasp. He falls forward onto his forehooves and uses his hindlegs to deliver a mighty buck to the oppressor's chest.

"GhOoh!" he guts a breath and stumbles back, completely winded. Axel takes this opening to reach for his sword and spin one-eighty, jabbing the blade right into the henchmen's neck. A motion so quick, Axel's sword is in and out as he delivers another kick to push the mortally bleeding oppressor back into the wall.

"Mother of fuck!" Poronto barely now rises from his seat and jumps back away from the man who holds two of his unconscious henchmen. The unicorn stallion who was stunned by the falling metal ceiling has yet to recover, so Poronto reaches desperately for the sword. The other still-standing henchmen hastily loads his crossbow in a panic, then aims it at the man for a fatal shot to the head.

Crimson raises his right fist to shield himself using the unconscious body - the arrow penetrates the stallion in the stomach and leaves the man unharmed. He drops the bleeding body after it's use.

"WHAT IN THE FUCK IS THAT THING!?" Poronto backpedals into his henchman, who also now tries backing up alongside him. "I NEED HELP! I NEED HELP!" Axel locks the door to the office and demonstrates a rather cheeky grin. The henchman moves to load another arrow, but the man throws the other stallion in his left hand directly at him and Poronto. All three collide and fly back into the wall, breaking pieces off of it.

Axel surges in alacrity to poke and parry the crossbow right out of the henchman's hold, tossing it away. With a seamless follow-through, he dives his blade right into the side of the henchman's head. The sword perforates the soft of the skull rather easily, ending his life instantly. Retracting his blade, Axel flicks it to the side to fling off some of the blood lathered upon it.

All that is left now is Poronto, who cowers discombobulated in the corner of the office. The sword which was knocked out of his hold is kicked away by Axel, leaving him completely defenseless. "SOMEPONY COME FUCKING HELP ME! HOLY STARS ABOVE, HELP!"

Banging on the office's metal door can be heard, but entry is denied by the lock. Try as the muscle outside might, the sturdy door holds on its heavy hinges.

Axel gives a glance at the door, grins, and faces his target again.

"AXEL!" Poronto pleads. "AXEL, PLEASE! DON'T DO THIS! PLEASE DON'T DO THIS! WE CAN STILL WORK THIS OUT! T-THE MONEY! I GOT IT! I'LL GET IT DELIVERED TO HER A.S.A.P!"

The more the pathetic earth pony pleads, the wider Axel's grin becomes.

"LISTEN TO ME, BOY! LISTEN TO MEEE!"

Axel looks to Crimson, who stands unmoving with fists cuffed at his sides, waiting for instruction. The pegasus tilts his head towards a panel on the wall behind the desk, directing Crimson to it. The man pries it open, revealing it to be the fuse box for the warehouse. He takes two fingers to the top-most fuse and holds the latch, then looks back to Axel. Axel nods, holding his wicked simper.

Crimson pulls the main fuse; all power is cut to the warehouse, complete blackness consumes the room. The only minor light to be had is the shine of the moon coming from the forced opening in the ceiling. Aside from the frantic banging and muffled yelling from the other side of the thick metal door, the room is engulfed in silence.

"... AXEL!? BOY!?" Poronto receives no reply. A single hoofstep is heard coming closer. "AXEL, LISTEN. PLEASE. J-JUST GET THE LIGHTS BACK ON! DON'T PLAY ME LIKE THIS! I SWEAR WE'LL WORK IT OUT! I'VE GOT THE MONEY! WE'LL START ANEW! GLORIOSA! IN HER NAME! R-RIGHT!? AXEL, PLEASE, JUST-- AaUrrgh!" His voice drowns into a gurgled mess when cold steel splits his trachea. Death consumes him slowly.

Axel moves towards the opening in the ceiling. "Let's go," he simply states as he extends his wings to fly out of the hole in the ceiling. Crimson follows silently behind him and crouches down for a hearty leap, latching onto the edges of the opening and hauling himself up swiftly.

Together they make it onto the roof of the warehouse and get their bearings. Axel takes a small handkerchief from the pouch on his belt and wipes down his blade, sheathing it right after. He trots towards the east end of the warehouse, peering down off the edge to the docks. He sees a single inconspicuous pegasus mare standing next to a wooden crate, seeming to have anticipated him. Axel lifts his arm and waves it in a circle.

With this signal, she whistles a short, peculiar melody and takes into the air. This same melody is heard whistled nearby, again, and again, in different locations across the perimeter of the warehouse. In no time, many armed pegasi come out from unseen locations, amassing a small army that quickly engulfs the building.

Crimson witnesses such orchestration with esteem. Within seconds of Axel's call, the building is invaded, and death can be heard below them. From what he can pick up, it is no contest. It's a slaughter. A silent, calculated massacre.

Axel revels at the sound of Poronto's strength getting overwhelmed. He turns his gaze to Crimson, which shifts from wicked to reverent in a moment. The man looks back at him, his black hair concealing his face, that which reflects the moon's light vividly. The stallion beams blithely. "You're fucking awesome." Crimson only stares back mutely. "Come on, Gloriosa's ponies have got it from here. Our job's done." With no response from the man, Axel leads him to a safe area to descend from the roof.

Together they trek under the starry night back towards the inner city, onwards with a unruffled stride as if nothing had ever happened.

Beacon in the Fumes

~ Los Ungulas, Axel's Apartment ~<
March 26th, Monday, 21:48

‎ ‎

"-- Then BAM!" Axel exclaims. He and Crimson rest once more on the beanbags from earlier this day, both with bottles of root beer. "You tossed 'em right at Poronto! That shit was incredible!"

"Had to improvise. You said there was gonna be only one on each side."

"You're right. Upping the muscle is exactly what I should have planned for. I won't let another mistake fly by me like that again."

"Hey now, don't fret, it was minor. I'm more impressed at how accurate yer plan was. You knew exactly what the guards were doin' and when they were doin' it. Not to mention that rust stain on the roof, it really did look like an eye."

"Right! Hey, I'm just glad you found it. Literally any other part of the roof wouldn't have broken in like that. But you were in the right place at the right time, just when I needed it. I've told you your combat talent is terrifying, but something needs to be said about your follow-through."

"What can I say, I had a good playwright. It was just like you said, we were in 'n out quick-like. Less than ten minutes."

"Stop flattering me, man! You kick some serious ass! You get an A letter-grade!"

"Takes two. You certainly did yer part."

"Hehyeah, went off better than I expected! That ratshit is dead, and I've got you to thank for it!" He takes a momentous swig of his drink, passing off a vigorous burp. "Hooh, brother, Sky. That went SO much better than expected."

Crimson's glee slowly churns into what he feels is pity. Something about the way he speaks imparts dejection. "You sure are happy about this victory."

"Like you wouldn't believe!"

"I reckon you nab these often. What makes this one special?" In the midst of laughter, the man's words puncture Axel like a nail. His gaiety transmutes to sobriety. Crimson lines his lips, regretting his utterance.

"... Heh," Axel lifts his eyes solemnly to the man, "would you believe it if I said that wasn't the case?"

"... Sure is hard to. Yer skillset bodes well for this kinda work."

"You think the issue here is me?"

Crimson lifts his right palm up prudently, "No, no, not what I'm sayin'. Shown me enough to see you've got yer lock 'n key. Surprised, is all. With yer talent, it just... dunno, doesn't seem right. You, uh... running a round of bad luck 'r somethin'?"

Axel cringes at himself and licks the bottom row of his teeth whilst presenting them. "Yeah. A really bad one." Crimson's eyes thoughtfully fall to the table that sits his drink. The man browses for any consolidation he could give, but Axel speaks up. "But heeey, come on! You're tossing shit on our trophy! Not cool, Sky!"

Crimson's lips curl before a chuckle. "Pardon. I'll be sure to clean it off."

Axel snickers in response, lifting his bottle again to finish the last of his beverage. With a satisfied sigh, he reclines back into the beanbag and crosses his hooves behind his head. "Now this... is more like it."

Holding his simper, Crimson follows suit and drinks the rest of his beverage. Setting the empty bottle back down on the table, he reclines just as his comrade does and enjoys the still, peaceful night.

"You know, I think it's finally time," Axel suddenly states.

"For?"

"The last thorn in Gloriosa's side. I was iffy whether I wanted to go through with it, but..." Axel looks over to the man with a beam, "... with you by my side, I think it's doable."

Something inside Crimson feels honored by the complimentary demeanor Axel has for him. It feels more than superficial, more than just a key for business. The man puts his hands behind his head and lays back. "If it's stompin' out more bugs, I'm all in."

"Heh, I knew you'd be. After this, I'll make DAMN sure you get where you need to be. Whoever or whatever score you wanna settle, whatever vendetta you have against the Black Horseshoes. I'll be your guy. Hold me to that."

Crimson unconsciously grins at this idea. It's perfect. "Sounds like a trade to me, partner. Now you just tell me what needs doin'."

"Hoho, with pleasure, my friend. With pleasure."

Both Crimson and Axel sit up straight, ready to scheme.

‎

~~~~~<

‎

"Hey! Hey! Wakie, wakie!"

The call of Axel's voice demands Crimson's arousal. The man's eyes still remain closed, but he quips, "Ain't asleep."

"Ah, perfect. Something just came up, we gotta move."

"Is that where you went?" Crimson refers to Axel having left the room about half an hour ago, but only now returning to yammer.

"Yeah! Come on, Sky! Up, up!"

The man sighs through his nose and rises from the comfort of the beanbag chair. Once at his full height, he bends his back in to get a few satisfying pops. Stretched up, he grasps his face with his right hand and drags down to pull off lingering sleepiness in an attempt to rid himself of it.

A quick look at the window shows that it's still night-time, another shot towards the hand-clock posted above the kitchen counter reads something around 2:45. It's been roughly two hours since they finished talking plans, regardless, Axel's jumping to something else already. Nothing they discussed either.

Axel is too eager to get Crimson out the door and towards the elevators. They descend as fast as the machinery allows them to, which isn't very.

"What's got you worked up at this hour?" the man prods.

"You'll see," Axel counters.

"Can't just tell me."

"You'll see!" the stallion repeats with excitement.

Crimson would be mildly annoyed at the lack of direct communication, but judging by Axel's fervor, it can't be a bad thing. Or maybe it is. It's somewhat hard to tell. He'll just take his word for now.

Together, they come off the elevator and exit the hotel through the lobby. Even before exiting through the building's glass doors, Crimson bares witness to a carriage and some pegasus pony bouncers right outside - they wear the same outfit as the ponies noted standing at the Gloriosa in the Slums. The carriage itself is similar in design to Canterlot's, but certain grooves and decals make it obvious it belongs to a different organization. It's as if a small shard of the Gloriosa broke off to obtain them. Such a scene drives pique to the man.

Axel enthusiastically pushes open the door, holding for Crimson to exit before letting go. The bouncers seem lifeless behind their black shades but they do well to quickly acknowledge Axel as soon as he makes his appearance.

"Long time no see, fellas," Axel greets. The stallions simply nod once, but very promptly so. "What's say we get a move on?"

At this, the stallions immediately move to hitch themselves back up on the carriage. Axel turns to Crimson and tilts his head, signaling the green light. The duo climb on and take seats opposite from each other. Once Crimson hunkers down, the carriage has a slight tilt to his side. Acknowledging this, the man scoots next to Axel instead. A quick snicker from the stallion followed by the shake of his head exhibits his amusement.

The stallions piloting the carriage wordlessly begin their trot towards the street, then eye left and right to make sure it's safe before continuing out. Their trot turns to a gallop, then a sprint. Before any interruption of traffic, they take into the air and correct their course to the Slums under the guidance of the moon.

Crimson refrains from asking questions despite having many. He sits back and spreads his arms out to hold the top of the backrest, simply taking this time to enjoy himself. The wind blows through his hair, finally letting the open air hit his face for the first time in a while. The city quickly becomes distant - the border of Los Ungulas is passed over, leading to the grassy plains.

The last week has been a busy one. There hasn't been much time for anything except eating, sleeping, planning, fighting and killing. Time spent with Axel has fluttered like wind. He's learned much about the communities and smaller gangs littered across western Equestria because of his work. It's nothing that strays far from what he already knows, even compared to Earth.

...

Earth. Almost seems like a different life. Hell, maybe it is. With everything he's dealt with here in Equestria, Earth is just a fever dream. A twenty-six year fever dream.

He seldom realizes he's turning twenty-seven. Maybe he's twenty-seven already. With how convoluted the months have been, his birthday may have very well passed. It's a depressing thought, he feels. Losing track of time so badly that you forget your own birthday. Such a small thing to fret over, something so unimportant in the grand scheme of things - the date of your coming to the world... but maybe, it's not so small. One's humanity comes from these things. Without them...

The man crosses his arms over his chest, making sure a certain soft lump is still found under his clothes. Warmth surrounds his heart knowing it is. He wants to reach for it, hold it, hug it... but not yet. He can't yet. Regardless, he's content with letting his good-luck charm carry him through his ventures. Not only for his sake, but for Autumn's.

Autumn. Viola. Moonlight. Bulletpoint. Strix, Swirl. ... Dahlia. He wonders if he'll be able to see anyone he cares about ever again. Probably not.

He tries not to let it get to him.

‎

~~~~~<

‎

The carriage punches the smog that surrounds the Slums, prompting both Axel and Crimson to look alive. Their destination comes to be at the street across the Gloriosa's front door.

Even though he half expected this, he still finds himself stirred. The fabled club approaches as the stallions take their landing and come to a halt not five meters from the entrance. Same as before, a burly stallion with two stocky humans are present. It appears that they're making salutations to a guest who is just now entering.

Their attention is brought to the arriving transport. The piloting stallions unlatch themselves with haste to open both carriage doors for Crimson and Axel. They unload separately, both hopping and landing simultaneously on the sanded bricks of the street. The man looks up to the bedizened edifice. It's still as grand and intimidating as ever.

With neon lights shining into the tar-like sky, the Gloriosa stands as a beacon in the darkness. As the duo approach the front entrance, music is heard thumping from inside, and the Slums' smell of narcotics is replaced with a wafting of perfumes and colognes. The orange-maned stallion greets the bouncer at the door. "Zeek."

"Axel," the earth stallion replies without moving anything but his mouth.

"Word spread quick, didn't it?"

"It did. Looks like you're back in the game."

Axel grins. "You can say that."

"Your backup. He the one?" the stallion hints to the silent shadow behind Axel.

"In the flesh."

The stallion glares at the man judgmentally. "... He doesn't look like much."

"All in the eye of the beholder, right?"

"Hm." He scans Crimson behind the guise of his sunglasses for a good second before refocusing on Axel. "You've always had a lot naysayers. But even they're impressed right now."

"Damn right they are. I step out of the game for minute to relax, and it's 'Axel's gone soft! Axel's this and that!' Shows the bastards for forgetting who I am."

The stallion finally shows some sort of emotion and smiles ever-so slightly. "... Good thing I haven't. Knew you'd be back." He steps aside and opens the door for him and the man. "Just like old times. Come on in."

Axel smiles proudly, looking back to Crimson quickly. The stallion then moves to enter the club with his companion in tail.

Immediately upon passing through the wood and glass double-doors of the club, the music clamors in their ears - some eccentric electronic music in the likes Crimson has never heard in his life. Inside, a plethora of sections encompass the first floor. Each nook and cranny has booths, bars, stages and poles, bouncers, and creatures of all kinds preforming some sort of debauchery. Saturated lights pulse and flash vibrantly, giving the place a rather juicy look, especially among the dark of the night.

He quickly realizes this isn't any run of the mill club. Tenders behind the bars aren't even charging for the drinks they hand out. There's plenty of groping and touching, borderline fucking. The customers inside are dressed in a range of styles, from expensive and posh, to wrinkled summer wear, and everything in between. The air inside, fruity enough to make your senses tender, yet not overbearing or headache inducing. A certain magic floats in the atmosphere. This whole place feels... off.

Crimson's attention is brought upon the humans that are found here. Most of them are females, dancing on the stages and handling the poles, or tending to customers in a lubricious manner. There are a few male humans dotted around, catering to a few of the 'exotic' customers. His muse drives him to repugnance - these humans were conditioned for this exact purpose. Out of the many things to teach an animal, this...

"Here!" Axel suddenly blurts over the music, more than willing to leave Crimson behind if he doesn't keep up. The man glides his boots across the carpeted flooring, unable to keep his eyes from racing around. As he steps, stares from both customers and humans performing on the floor come upon him. He ignores them for what he can, but it doesn't ease the weight he feels. This whole place gives him an impression he can't describe and it's overwhelming.

A particular girl that has had her eyes glued to him comes off of the pole she was spinning expertly upon. With grace, she sits at the edge of the stage and hops off her butt to the floor. She strides confidently in front of Crimson and stands in his face, ready to be knocked over had the man not stopped on a dime. If many weren't staring, they certainly are now. This confrontation also forces Axel to stop and stare amidst his hurry.

With furrowed brows, Crimson gawks down at the very attractive girl that gazes up at him with lust. She whips her long cyan hair back, her pink skin glistens under the colored lights. She reaches into her panties and takes out some sort of packet containing a small blue circular tablet. She pops the tablet out and sticks her tongue out and hums out a phonetically appropriate 'Aaah,' placing the tab on it before suggestively waving her tongue up and down.

Crimson detects that practically every eye in the building is watching this interaction. They seem to be hoping they'll catch some face-slobbering meditated by a feel-good pill.

The girl's gaze glitters with the thump of the music. She stands at her tippy-toes and takes the back of her hand to reach out and brush the man's hair of out his face, revealing his once-hidden front. The sight of his face makes her heat rise, indicated by a moan-ish hum inundated by the music. She takes his duster collar to level his head with hers, then she reaches in for the attack.

In one motion, the man rears his head back and, with the tip of his finger, he brings his hand upside down to her chin and closes her mouth. His hair falls back over his face, hiding it once again.

"OooOoo!" The crowds cackle and egg on the display. The girl herself, taken aback, glares in disbelief. Blushing from embarrassment, she crosses her arms over her chest and pouts at him. Crimson doesn't reflect any amusement, only indifference. The girl steps forward and pushes him at his right shoulder, where he lurches his upper body in exaggeration to her light push. With a puff and the bringing up of her chin, the girl storms back to her pole and continues her routine, aimlessly spitting out the pill. Disgustingly enough, a few stallions begin shoving each other to get it.

Crimson catches up to the giggling stallion. "Wasted opportunity!" The man tilts his head at this. "You don't know how much some of these fools wish a figurant would do something like that to them! Wasted! Opportunity!" Crimson rightens his head from its tilted position and barely shrugs. The grinning stallion takes the lead again.

The man uses this time to reflect quite critically in what he is witnessing. These humans are fully expressive, damn-near 'normal' in their behaviors and demeanors. The one thing they lack is speech, which he can't decipher why. They're pretty much fully intelligent, working a job that challenges not only their motor skills but their mental capacity as well.

Axel was right. He does seem much less impressive around these humans, they're pretty much like him, absent only of articulation and height.

Heading to the far left side of the club, a staircase that rounds upwards gives a path to the second floor. Akin to a certain someone's bedroom, the second floor is just a massive balcony that can overlook the first floor. The staircase has muscle in front of it, two zebras and a velvet rope to hinder access to anyone that'd try to ascend it. Despite the obstacle, Axel confidently takes the approach.

"Stallion of the hour!" one of the zebras shouts over the music.

"At your service!" Axel throws back.

"Is this him!?"

Axel looks over to Crimson, then back at the zebra. "Who else would it be!?"

The zebra who spoke nods and moves to unhitch the rope, allowing them both access. They ascend the two flights of stairs to the second floor, where this section of the club seems more isolated and calm in comparison to the bottom. The music seems suppressed up here, almost by a magical means.

This second floor contains individual sections, formed like squares, but rather than freely open, they are walled off by thick silk curtains that are suspended from high above on the ceiling. There's a few silhouettes behind some of the sections, but this VIP area comes off as mostly vacant even if the muscle has nearly tripled, including the presence of some grim-looking unicorns. He definitely doesn't want to piss them off.

Axel pulls close to Crimson, stopping him briefly without looking at him. "Hey." Crimson listens in. "When we meet her... talk."

"...?"

"We can trust her. Anypony in earshot? Also good. Don't leave her hanging. Alright?" Axel looks up at the man for a quick smile of assurance. Crimson, obviously skeptical, nods in return.

As the two trek across the second floor, the designs of the silken veils become more intricate and exorbitant. At the far end of this floor, a bar is found along with a regal door that leads to somewhere. Just before this bar, the most extravagant veil is located off to the left, one that details a single letter several times. Crimson couldn't know what letter it is, but he assumes it's 'G' as that would be the most appropriate for its grandeur. Four unicorns stand at every corner of the prominent cubical, making sure whoever is inside is kept safe or unbothered.

As they approach this veil, Axel gives Crimson a very stern glare. "Remember what we talked about." Crimson barely nods.

The unicorns hardly react to the coming, other than one mare calling aloud, "Visitors, my beloved!" A rhythmic hum comes from inside. Had the music been as loud up here as it is downstairs, it would have easily been drowned out. The same unicorn proceeds to open the veil and allow entrance.

Inside is two prime couches with cushions of cherry red with white frames - a two seater on the left, and a three seater in the far middle against the wall.

There on the three-cushion, a beautiful mare of a snow-white coat and blonde hair, cold piercing ruby eyes, and luscious black eyelashes, wears pure black and red velvet silk clothing, waving across her curvaceous body in a way that matches her beauty. She watches in disinterest at a dancer who works a pole on a small stage in front of her. Her analytical orbs watch as a light-yellow girl with green hair performs an upside down spin.

Her attention is not removed from the pole dancer even when Axel enters. Crimson does as well, but only enough for the veil to close behind him, keeping a safe distance. His focus is also tuned to the half-naked girl who beads with sweat and pants lightly. It looks like she might be new at this, or at least not as good as the other girls downstairs. He goes to assume she might be new, her form lacks naturalness.

"Nah!"

Crimson's body kicks into gear before his mind does. The girl's thighs and feet lose the grip on the pole which suspended her upside down, leading her to a fall that certainly lands her on her head. With outstretched arms, he bolts forward and catches her, pulling her in against his chest. His focus on the girl loses him the small smile that forms on the beautiful mare's lips, along with Axel's raised brows of surprise.

The girl's heavy breath is accompanied by her heart beating like a timorous bunny. Her lime-green eyes tremble as they stare into his, her sweat dampens his duster sleeves.

"Thank you very much," a soft and melodic voice speaks from the mare on the couch. Crimson, Axel, and even the girl all focus their attention to her. "Injury was definite. Sweat on the pole is dangerous, a lesson always learned the hard way." Her suffocating stare moves from the man to the girl in his hold. "Get some rest, Dandelion." The human seldom reacts to the name due to the exhaustion, but apparently it belongs to her.

Crimson says nothing in response, instead looking down to the girl who also returns the stare. After realizing he's been coddling her for much longer than he should have, he moves to set her down on the edge of the stage. He steps back again to the entrance of the veil and nods to the mare. "Yer welcome." A small simper on her face inches just a bit at hearing him speak.

"See what I mean?" Axel adds even if nothing was said.

"I do," she replies.

Moving to stand between them, Axel bows his head and lifts a hoof to present her. "Sky, this is Marigold Gloriosa. Glory," he lifts his head and simply points, "this is Sky."

Gloriosa's eyes scan the man up and down, mostly at his dark attire and hair. "For a name like Sky, you certainly enjoy black. I'd mistake you as one of mine. Not that I'd mind. My agents have said a lot about you. I'm glad we finally have a chance to meet."

"Likewise," the man replies simply.

The emphatic tilting of her head gives away her curiosity. "No need for you to stand so far away, dear. Come closer, please."

Crimson does as she says and takes a few steps closer, back to where he had caught the girl. Said girl hasn't removed her eyes from him, as well as reaching a point where her breathing has regulated. She sits in silence at the base of the pole, shivering slightly due to being almost nude and cooling down in sweat.

Gloriosa glances between Crimson and Dandelion. She notes the man's empathy to her subject. "A towel," she hums, and seconds later, one of the guarding unicorns outside levitates a clean, dry white towel in and suspends it for the girl to grab. She does so quickly and covers herself. Gloriosa visibly sees the silent satisfaction on the man's face, which pleases her in return. "... Axel." The stallion's grin finally gives way to a fiery scowl. "I thank you for everything you've done."

"The pleasure's mine, Glory," Axel honors. "It's been some time."

"Too long, love. Is it appropriate for me to ask what happened?"

"I couldn't stay away from you."

"Is that really it?" She closes her eyes and giggles lightly. "Prized treasure hunter suddenly goes missing, then returns in flames? Just for me?"

"That's it in a nutshell. I never got to say sorry for going dark."

"A simple letter would have sufficed, love. I missed you."

The stallion nods with a tinting of his cheeks. "I missed you too."

"The scar healed up quite nicely. I like it~" Attention is brought to the stallion's face. Crimson feels inclined to agree.

"Come on, don't embarrass me here, Glory. We got business, remember? We'll play catch up soon. I promise."

A beautiful smile and blink is what she gives to agree with him. "I'll hold you to that. And of course, proper compensation is worth your effort. You'll see it in your L-U treasury soon."

"You know I don't need payment," Axel tilts his head with guilt.

"Hmh... too late~"

Axel's eyes shift away for a moment. "Gah," he disciplines himself, hardening up again against his emotions. "Your muscle didn't pick us up in the dead of night just for you to say thanks. I know what you're gonna say next, but guess what?" Gloriosa looks very amused at his assertiveness. "I already came up with a plan."

"Did you?" she asks semi-snidely, looking down at her hoof, tilting it a few ways to get different angles on it.

Even from his distance, Crimson can see how perfectly polished it is, with no sign of imperfection anywhere on her body, or what's exposed of it anyway. Staring at her for too long without looking elsewhere makes him feel slightly uncomfortable, her presence is surely daunting.

Axel grins confidently, "Yeah! Me and Sky here set up a plan to hit the Majestic Tower right where it hurts. It's failproof."

"You always were one step ahead, love. Then you're aware of the kill-on-sight order, right?" Axel looks mildly confused. "Uh-oh, hmhm~" she giggles innocently.

"What? What do you mean?" Axel asks in a panic.

"Axel Flex is to be killed on sight. His human companion as well. Order placed by Majesty but two hours ago. Does your plan take that into account?" Axel's eyes dilate as his mouth falls open. "A rework is necessary, then?"

"Shit yeah it is," Axel grumbles rather angrily. "I had it all mapped out too. Damn it. How'd they find out so damn quick? We completely wiped Poronto's haven."

"You did. Majesty had scouts on the piers, a hoof-picked few that are specifically told not to fight. I assume they found out what you were doing across the Slums and had a hunch you'd go after Poronto. Your last week worth of work builds up to it immaculately." Axel sighs angrily at his own lack of foresight. "... Luckily, I've devised a plan myself - one that involves both you and this lovely man," she tilts her chin to Crimson, giving him a brief glancing. "I think it fits both of your strong-suits."

Axel's ears perk up. "Great! Anything is better than starting from scratch. What've you cooked up, Glory?"

"Please sit, love. We have a lot to go through."

Crimson and Axel do as she says, sitting together on the double-cushion couch. Gloriosa dismisses Dandelion to allow rest. With only the trio inside this cubical of fine, delicate fabric, they begin discussing their course of action.

‎

~~~~~<

‎

Axel and Crimson walk side-by-side through the night haze of the Slums, both ranting and raving.

"What if that don't kill the guards there, though?" Crimson questions.

"Yeah. What do you think?" Axel replies. "We'd be too far from them to finish them off."

"What I was thinkin'. Reckon we'd have to rely on her agents to do the double-take. Dunno, Axel, this don't seem too concrete."

"Hey, I'm not saying that, I think her plan will work. I'm just... mmh..."

"Yer just? What you are is unsure. We're puttin' too much trust in her agents, the plan felt solid when it was just us."

"Forget the old plan, no way it'd work now."

"I know I can trust you, not them."

"What? You don't remember how they handled the warehouse? After that, you really don't think they're reliable? They're damn good killers!"

"Sure, after we cut the lights and the snake's head. I'd be more floored if they managed to screwed it up."

"Put some faith in Gloriosa, Sky. She's giving us the best of her best."

"I'd hope so, what we're doin' ain't like swattin' a fly."

"Don't be pessimistic about this. Just think of it this way! If they screw anything up and the plan goes south, we still got each other's backs! We're damn good at making shit up as it goes. The back-up is just extra."

"... I'll hold my reservations, Axel."

"Can't blame you, just don't use it against me, man."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Like you said, least we got each other's back."

"Hm, heh. Good, good. That's what I like to hear. Now come on, it's time we got some rest." As Axel says this, he ascends the small staircase to Moob's motel, carelessly pushing on the door. "Ghr!" Axel crashes into the door, causing a startled scream comes from inside.

"Little flower!?" The sound of Moobs' muffled voice comes from the other side.

Crimson and Axel give each other a confused, troubled look. Axel bangs on the door twice, "Hey! Are you alright!? Moobs, open the door!"

"AXEL!?" the old camel shouts even more distressed than before. In a haste, heavy hooves come towards the door and several locks are undone from the other side. As the locks are being undone, Crimson notices quite the glare Axel gives the door. He does not look happy.

Within a few seconds, the door comes open and the camel stands on the other side, panting lightly from fright. "A-Axel, boy! Mister Sky! Welc'm back! What'cher all doin' out here this time'a night?"

"We happened to be in the area," Axel responds, giving the camel a furrowed stare. "On some important business."

"Wuh-Well, come on in!" the camel back-steps and turns to post himself up behind the receptionist desk. The duo enter - Crimson feels a rather tense energy coming from his partner. "So, er, what 'important business' we talkin' 'ere? What'cha got cookin', my boy?"

"It's a mouthful," Axel simply states, avoiding the question. "Were you expecting someone else tonight?"

The question puts a stake in the old camel's chest. "Werr-hur, no! Not at all!" Axel squints viciously. The camel holds poorly under the punching stare he finds himself under.

Axel looks over to Crimson, trying to compose himself as best as he can to ease the man's worry. "Hey, Sky. How about you retire for the night. I woke you up a little too early, so rest up. I'll catch some shut-eye soon too. We gotta be ready for tomorrow, right?"

Crimson crinkles his brows at both Axel and Moobs. The tension can almost be bitten and chunked. With only a nod, the man takes a step back before turning one-eighty and trekking down the hallway to the bedrooms. He safely takes the room he chose before in the center, opening it and closing it behind him. As soon as the door closes, muffled discussion can be heard, but none of it is coherent. Whatever it is they're parleying about, it might be more personal to them together. He'd rather stay out of this matter, if anything, for the sake of tomorrow's mission. Anything that doesn't need to be said shouldn't be said.

He marches to the bed, quick to kick off his boots and fall forward onto it. He rolls onto his back, eyes already closed. He tries to drown out the arguing the best he can, taking in a deep breath and exhaling gradually.

The volume of their voice soon comes to a controlled level, practically inaudible from inside his room. This makes it much easier to relax, and so he does.

A light peck comes from inside, he feels like he could use a bite to eat. Sadly that butchery Axel introduced him to is closed, else he'd have half a mind to pay it a visit. He still has plenty of money, sparsely having time spend it on anything. He's grateful for that though, the money he had at the Canterlot treasury is all but null to him now.

The Arch Angel can keep that money. Sky won't be needing it where he's going. He'll earn more the old-fashioned way.

Two ideas strike him simultaneously. Finally in a quiet personal space, he reaches into his duster's inner pocket to pull out a fuzzy ball. This fuzzy ball stares back at him with it's beady black little eyes. From just its adorable semblance, a small simper forms upon his lips. "Hey, little buddy," he whispers to it. "Sorry I've kept you holed up in there. Got some alone time, finally. You doin' okay?" It stares back blankly. It's pearly eyes glisten softy with the weak moonlight that comes in from the room's boarded window. "Yeah, little dark in here too, but better than a stuffy ol' pocket. Glad you ain't ruffled up."

Crimson rests the little red bunny on his chest. Giving it a quick smile, he reaches into the outer left pocket of his duster and obtains a small metal ball. He retrieves it and holds it in both hands, prying it open with his thumbs. He can't see the moss too well among the darkness, but he sees it's been refilled since his last 'meal.'

He looks to the bunny with a sour expression. "Stuff's awful. Good for you though." He holds it closer to the bunny. "Want some?"

It does nothing in response.

Crimson keeps it held for a moment longer before shrugging. "Right, well, don't laugh if I make a face. I mean it when I say this stuff's bad." He proceeds to take a fingertip-clump of moss and closes the ball. He pockets it and glares at the green, damp substance that coats his index finger. He looks back to the bunny, offering his fingertip. "Sure I can't tempt you?"

It sits idly against his question.

Crimson sighs and braces himself. He sticks his finger in his mouth and sucks it all off promptly, doing his best to swallow it as fast as possible. "Mrh!" He cringes, his shoulders, arms, and calves tense up at the vile flavor polluting his mouth. The clump is successfully shoved down his gullet, forcing a sigh from him. "Ugh... never gets any better."

...

"... Hmh, there it goes. This is where to good comes. Nice 'n full till morn'." He brings his left hand to pat the bunny and caress its bulbous form. "Reckon we should get some sleep." His hand glides across it from top to side, latching onto the base of its right ear and continuing to run his fingers across its length, pulling the ear up until he lets go at the tip, letting it fall limply back down.

The man comforts himself with the little plush, waiting for when sleep decides to overtake him unannounced.

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Celestia's Quarters ~<
March 26th, Monday, 22:41

‎ ‎

Her left hoof is brought up to stifle her wide yawn - her golden slipper taps her upper-lip during its duration.

Princess Celestia works in her room, lit by candlelight, sitting at her desk as her yellow aura manipulates the quill she uses to write with. During the course of the night, she has finished much documentation and letters, all neatly tied and stacked on the right end of the desk. Now, finally, she scribbles into the last parchment of the night.

She relieves her left hoof from its slipper to quickly rub her left eye. The quill dances and points, making race from the left side of the parchment to the right. One sentence is followed by another, and a fine dot finalizes each declaration.

The end comes once a period is placed at the final sentence. Celestia huffs in relief, relishing in the idea of sleep. But before such a gift can be granted, she takes one more opportunity to reread what this amendment states, as it will be published tomorrow morning.

Doctrine Six, Page Forty-Nine, Line One-Hundred-Nine - One-Hundred-Twenty-Three

Humans, humankind, as standing and stated:

Possessions of human must be registered with city or municipality. Documentation of ownership will not (can not be) questioned or petitioned by law enforcement unless probable cause is had. Ponies may not be detained by law enforcement unless local code is violated or lawlessness is observed. Humans may not be confiscated, detained, or repossessed unless local code is violated or lawlessness is observed.

Humans present by pony (ponies) are acquitted to Doctrine One, deriving rights from pony owner and applicable prosecution and stipulations. Humans unaccompanied by a pony (ponies) must be detained immediately. All cities or municipalities violating present amendments are subject to fines that cannot exceed (90,000) bits, and cannot fall under (1,000) bits. Violations for contempt of the Empire's court may cause fines to exceed maximum penalty.

Local and general law enforcement is required to carry tranquilizing units which do not require physical perforation. As stated in Doctrine Two, immediate revision is demanded by local codes to comply with amended law enforcement tool-belt requirements. Harm, as described in Doctrine One, caused by law enforcement in detention or repossession of a human (humans) must be compensated by city or municipality.

Major cities, as listed in Doctrine Eight, page sixty-two, must be acquitted with detainment centers following appropriate guidelines. Monies will be provided by the Empire using standard distribution policies. Budget and records of at least sixteen years must be preserved. Failure to keep record of Empire provisions may cause forfeit of provided monies - penalized major cities will still be held accountable for construction and maintainment of detainment centers.

Another huff comes from Celestia, but this one more satisfied than exhausted. She levitates a black ribbon towards the parchment as she rolls it up, tying it up neatly and setting it on the stack of finished documents.

She feels content to finally have closure. With Moonlight's assistance, the cap to this ever-going debacle is coming to an end. She knows Equestria will have a lot of adapting to do, but feels confident in her subjects. There's much they've overcome, this should be no different.

She leans her head close to the candle that provided its generous light during her work, and with a quick blow from her lips, the fire dies out. Rising from her seated position, she moves to finally retire for the night.

Revenants

~ The Slums, Moobs' Motel ~<
March 27th, Tuesday, 6:38

‎

The night was sleepless, not to his surprise. Despite this, he feels fairly relaxed, albeit a little stiff from the springy bed.

Crimson assumes it is morning by now, if it wasn't obvious by the voices which clamor outside his room. Sounds like Moobs and Axel are at it again. It's more than just concerning, these two seem a little too close to be arguing like this. Even worse, the argument carried from one day to the next. Whatever's going on must be more serious than he initially thought.

No time to be laying around. He holds onto the bunny which slept on his chest through the night, using his other hand to open his duster to pocket it safely inside. He kicks up and fits his boots back on effortlessly, stomping them a few times to ensure they're in place. He marches to the door and exits with haste.

"It wasn't a fucking question! Do it! Make sure it gets done before I get back!"

"Yer bein' unbelievably unreasonable right now! Blowin' it up bigger'n it needs to be!"

Moobs and Axel immediately shift their attention to the man who becomes present in the lobby. Their weighty gazes judge him a bit too harshly even if he's not involved. At least, he doesn't think he is. "'M I interruptin' somethin'?" he asks nonchalantly.

Axel huffs and shakes his head, "Nah, it's... we're good." He gives a quick glare to the old camel, who returns a puckered gawk in return. He faces Crimson again and continues, "Glad you're up. We can get moving, rendezvous with Gloriosa's agents. They'll give us what we need."

"You already ate? Can't start our march on an empty stomach."

"I said they've got what we need. Come on, we need to head out."

Crimson notes the stallion's clear rush to want to leave, so he doesn't overtly question the debacle. Besides, he agrees in a way. He'd rather get the day started sooner than later.

Axel brings the door open and steps out, leaving it unclosed. Crimson gives Moobs a sly glance before taking his leave. The elder returns a very solemn, drooping front. His expression gives a multitude of messages, but all of them derive from the same thing: sadness. He doesn't know what kind of ass-chewing Axel has been giving him, but Crimson is starting to itch. It may not be his business, but this feels a bit too significant to let it rest.

The man closes the door behind him, taking the following behind Axel as usual. He stares down to the back of the stallion's head, curious. He guesses it's worth a shot, and if what he assumes is true, his shot will land in the void. "... What was all that about?"

"Don't worry about it, Sky."

Yup, just like he thought. Maybe once more for good measure. "Sounded important. You sure--"

"Sky, dude," Axel turns his head back to glare at him. "Just drop it, man." They share an awkward moment of silence as they continue to stare at one another. Axel holds his hard front, but he definitely feels the agitated disapproval coming from his partner. The stallion sighs and faces forward again, "Listen. Maybe later we'll talk about it. I just need us focused on today's hit. We don't wanna fuck something up letting our minds wander. Y'know?"

"... Reckon yer right."

"I won't leave you in the dark." He glances back at the man again, trying to set up a smile. "Promise."

Crimson simply nods. On this, they continue their trek to the Gloriosa, onwards to the carriage that awaits their arrival.

‎

~~~~~<

‎

Heavy hooves skid across grass, using friction to stop the carriage. The pegasus stallions dressed in Gloriosa's suits exhale heavily, finally able to rest after a lengthy haul. Their passengers, Crimson and Axel, remain seated. Both the man and the stallion wear hats and shades, with Axel donning a white ballcap and Crimson placed with a straw farmer's hat. They both look and feel a bit ridiculous, but apparently it's necessary. They collectively watch as other carriages, counted to five total, also come down and stop nearby.

Crimson analyzes their surroundings, noting their stop is in the grassy plains of western Equestria. They are all bunking down under the shade of a few trees that sit sparsely among the sea of green. All carriages line themselves next to each other, each one carrying three agents. These carriages, he notes, are generic and without label, unlike the Gloriosa carriages that escorted him the night before. He returns his attention to the passengers of the carriages, all fifteen of them. He isn't sure if they're really going to need such a cumbersome force, but apparently each one of them is apart of the plan.

Every agent is currently dressed in pricey civilian clothing and headwear. The mares wear sunhats, the stallions wear ballcaps just as Axel. Each carriage has a picnic basket, and once they start disembarking, they take them down as well. Crimson comes to realize that they're playing a disguise. He supposes it makes sense since the city of Las Pegasus isn't more than a mile away. Anyone interested in them won't see anything but a few high-class ponies enjoying lunch under the morning sun. And their single human.

Still reluctant about his 'disguise,' the man fixes his sunglasses a bit more comfortably so his hair isn't trapped behind them. He can barely see with this double blockage, but he tries to make do of it anyway. He feels a nudge on his side, Axel signals him to dismount. He complies and comes off the carriage from the opposite side of his partner.

The agents are splaying out the blankets and mats where they're looking to sit. One of the agents beckons Crimson and Axel over to theirs, making sure there are five members at each set-up. The whole display is organized in a matter of seconds, practically ready for sitting and enjoying by the time they reach their appointed place. Crimson acknowledges that if these ponies aren't any good at fighting, they're at least good at setting up picnics. Very good at it.

Axel and Crimson take their seats on the checkered purple and white blanket. A dark purple pegasus mare next to Crimson reaches out and places a plastic tray with a plate on top in front of him. She then sets a plastic cup down next to the plate, then a fork. "Sandwich? Salad?" asks the mare, her voice stern with a sprinkle of femininity to it. He takes a brief moment to realize that this mare is... well, jacked. Easily. Her slender form is cut at every major muscle and her wings are thick at the base. She isn't large, but she looks terrifyingly strong. Now that he puts mind to it, the same can be said about every agent here. They're all physically fit to a magnificent degree, yet give off such an impassive demeanor. It looks even more inconspicuous behind the silly get-ups everyone has. "You can talk. We all know."

Crimson shakes his head quickly in surprise. Not that they know he can talk, but that he pretty much got caught daydreaming. He's glad they confused it for keeping quiet. "... Just some salad." A few of the agents who are already chatting and mingling amongst each other pause to glance at the man talk. Axel doesn't seem too interested at the moment as he chows down on a berry and lettuce sandwich.

The mare tending to him smirks slightly, taking some tongs with her wing and forking out salad from a large plastic bowl for him. "This enough?" The man nods in response so she puts the tongs back. "Lemonade or orange juice?"

"Lemonade."

She does the same with a pitcher of greenish liquid that has some pulp from the lemons floating about alongside ice. She removes the plastic cap and pours it into his cup, topping it off before another agent asks for it. She passes it to him along with the lid.

"Much obliged," Crimson thanks.

"You're welcome," she replies, gathering some food for herself. She shifts on her bottom, looking like she's trying to get comfortable. In this discreet motion, she actually rears her head close to Crimson's, whispering, "Staring, Hazel Eyes?"

Crimson's orbs pop open. "... Pardon," he apologizes in a whisper, taking his fork in hand.

The mare continues to smirk, taking a forkful of salad into her maw. "N't both'rin' me," she says out loud through the food before swallowing. "Just tell me if you do it again."

Crimson pokes a particularly big piece of baby carrot already coated in some sort of raspberry vinaigrette. "Why's that?"

"So I can stare back~"

"The shit are you two talking about, Trizzie?" Axel suddenly interrupts his conversation to glare back at the dark purple mare.

"Hoh, goodness," the mare named Trizzie retorts satirically. "Why so hostile, Axel?"

"You know what you're doing. No more. Zilch. Zip."

"Axel, what're you talkin' about?" Crimson butts in sarcastically. "I think yer bein' jumpy."

"Yeah? Care to explain what she meant, then?"

"A staring contest," the man states dead-pan. "Gotta stay entertained somehow. What did you think it was?"

"Yeah, Axel!" Trizzie crosses her arms, glaring at him judgmentally. She has a hard time staying composed because of how serious Crimson seems. She can't help but release a snicker and hit the man's shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," Axel huffs some of his orange hair from his eye. "Didn't realize the circus was in town, couple of clowns."

"He does have a sense of humor, kinda." A dark yellow pegasus stallion from across the picnic blanket comments. "Is it wrong to say I can't believe you?"

"Believe what I said or what I am?" Crimson prods.

"The latter. Name's Tango. Sky, right?" The man nods. "Great, well, I'm the squad leader for our group. If you have any questions, go to me first. Not this bonehead," he throws a hoof to Axel.

"Up yours, dude," Axel snarls.

"Our objectives will mostly stay between us," Tango continues, "the other teams have responsibilities they've gotta deal with."

Crimson looks at the other groups briefly. Something he notices almost immediately is that the teams seem to be split up by race. The unicorns huddle together in their own picnic, the earth ponies as well. His team is composed of pure wings. "Right," he acknowledges. "Gloriosa said we'd be in groups. Reckon its us five."

"Yes, sir. You got dumped with the hit squad. Every pony around you here is a trained killer, through and through."

"Can tell. You all bein' winged gives it away."

"Bright, you are. A pegasus is death's best friend. Just getting the formalities out of the way, that's Trizzie. You got to know her pretty quick." The mare in question shows a repeated suggestive raising of her brow to the man. "Then this here's Lila," he signals to the orange pegasus mare on his right, who sits next to Axel.

"Sup," she calls simply and waves her hoof, which incidentally has her sandwich in it and causes some of it to fly on Axel.

"Hwu-Rrgh!" Axel snaps his neck to her. "Watch it, klutz!"

Lila giggles with a hoof over her muzzle. The others around share in her merriment at Axel's expense. Something tells the man that it wasn't an accident. Not even close. It's further affirmed by Lila getting a little touchy to clean Axel of the ingredients that paste his body.

Crimson doesn't partake in laughter, however simpers nonetheless. He takes the lemonade generously poured for him and brings it to his lips. It's cold, it tastes great, and the pulp allows his mullers to entertain themselves. It's perfect, so much so, he chugs the whole glass in one take. He pulls the empty cup away and sighs happily.

"Hope you kill Majees the same way you killed that lemonade," Trizzie uses her body to hit his left arm. Crimson waves her off as he tries to force a burp out. "More?"

"Mmh-- Please--" He holds the cup to her and finally burps boisterously. No one cares one bit about his lack of manners. Trizzie takes his cup and refills it for him with a smile. Gratefully, he takes his lemonade back and sips it with more composure.

He sort of feels comfortable among these hitmen. A unique sense of comradery is always held between folk of a difficult coming. Being a conditioned assassin fits the criteria well, he supposes. Not just anyone can take a life, much less do so as a living.

"Hmh. Live by taking life. What an odd existence."

The afternoon is spent shooting the breeze between this little knit. Before they know it, the sun reaches the edge of the horizon, giving way to the moon.

‎

~~~<

‎

At the break of dusk, everyone wraps up their stupidities and commotion. As if everyone around has turned to machines, they assume an entranced automation that directs them precisely. Movements become quick and agile, the picnic is wrapped up and stored in seconds between everyone.

Crimson and Axel are led by Tango to the back of the carriage he and his team arrived in. The back compartment is pulled down by Trizzie which reveals kits comprised to a suit, a belt, a harness, and a weapon that somewhat resembles a gun. The man is stunned to find such a contraption so easily presented to him.

"Sky," Tango begins, "that one in the corner's yours." He points to it, it's the closest kit to the man. "Get that on."

"Reckon there ain't a dressin' room," Crimson knocks ironically. As he says this, everyone has already thrown their sunny picnic wear on the ground - in a word, they're naked and already getting suited up.

"No." Tango states point-and-case, shaking his head with a grin as he slips his hindlegs into his skin-tight suit.

Crimson accepts his fate swiftly and proceeds to take off his duster. A quick analysis of those around him, there's no way his suit would fit with his shirt and pants on. He moves to unbuckle his belt and kick off his boots, getting down to nothing but his underwear. Taking his shirt off proves mildly annoying because of the collar around his neck, but he manages. He makes very sure to keep his duster, and the little friend inside, tucked safely inside the carriage. He retrieves his kit from the carriage and separates his suit from the rest of the gear, proceeding to stretch it across his frame. The collar again proves to be an annoyance as he can't get the neck part of the suit pulled all the way up. He leaves it as is, the collar hides his neck anyway. No one seems to notice the collar either, he thinks it's due to the fact most if it is hidden under his hair and it's getting dark out. The less probing questions he has to answer, the better.

After the suit is on, all that's left is the utilities. He covertly eyes those surrounding him to get an idea of what goes where. A harness which goes over the trunk, it has two clips at the sides for the waist belt. He latches everything on well enough to make it look right.

He gives himself a glance to make sure it does. It looks well enough, so he moves to the last bobble he needs to equip. It's a small circular device that looks high-tech, it sort of resembles... the button Snowfall issued. The terrible, unreliable magical comms button. But this one looks completed. Evolved, even. Smaller, more efficient. He follows everyone else's lead and sticks it into his right ear. As it sits comfortable behind his inner ear, he hears quiet beeping and voices. Echoes of what some of the agents around him are saying are repeated into his ear. If they press it, it transmits their voice. It's simple... yet so unfathomable.

He almost rips it out from how uncanny this feels. He doesn't understand magic, but he feels this sort of technology shouldn't be possible.

"Right, everyone geared?" Tango announces to the group. Responses come from each pegasus in his team, save for Crimson, who still messes with the tight suit's fit. "Sky, is your equipment malfunctioning or are you?"

He stops tugging at it and raises his hand. "Sorry. 'M good. Got a question though."

"And I maybe got an answer."

"This a gun?" he points to the firearm-like device at his hip.

"Sorta like a gun, but not quite. You won't find those in these parts of Equestria."

Crimson takes the information to heart. "What is it then?"

"That there is a dart-flinger. High-potency tranquillizer inside each shot, each shot comes out of the barrel with roughly forty-thousand PSI. Almost as fast as a bullet, but don't treat it like one. It's not a bullet, it's a dart. Dart's a small white metal pike, gun coats it with narcotic. It's got two levels, see," he takes out his own weapon effortlessly from its holster and demonstrates the right side of it. "This here is your kill-switch," he presents the little latch that looks similar to a safety, but there's obviously another lever which is the safety. "You keep it flipped down, you knock out your target. You want them dead? Flip it up. For this hit, we want it flipped up. Got it?"

"Understood."

"All of the flingers were pre-rigged for that setting, so you don't gotta screw with anything. Remember to aim for the neck or major arteries. Don't have a clear shot on those? Exposed flesh works too, just expect a few seconds of resistance from the enemy before they go down."

"How many seconds?"

"Longest anyone's been standing after getting hit was a monster of a camel. Took eight seconds."

Crimson's brows raise up and come down quickly from understanding. "Got'cha."

"Anything else you got a question on? Can't have you fumbling around your gear once we're in the thick of it."

The man scans his harness and belt, trying to find anything else he may not understand. Other than a knife, a first-aid pouch, some rope, ammo for his weapon, and a few other pouches he hasn't looked inside of, he feels he knows what he needs to know. "Nothin' else."

"Excellent. Mount up!" At his order, all forces move back to the carriages. "Trizzie, port one."

"Aye, aye," she calls back as she trots over to Axel and Crimson, where Axel takes the lead to his respective transport the two follow. Crimson sets himself up in the middle sandwiched between Axel and Trizzie. Their suits rub and squeak against each other very peculiarly. The man feels very uncomfortable in this second skin.

"You're warm," Trizzie suddenly comments to Crimson.

"You comin' with us, then?"

"There a problem with that?" she closes her left eye and leers closer to his face.

"A problem sittin' next to a pretty pegasus? Hardly."

"Pretty? Pfft!" she turns her head and quite literally spits in disbelief, at least making sure not to spit at him. She stares at him again with a squinting smile. "I like you."

"I can tell."

"Stop messing with him, hoof-head," Axel clamors to Trizzie. "Once we take off, game faces."

"Game faces!" Trizzie repeats, mixed between mockery and seriousness. Her demeanor melds to confusion when she feels something pelt her left ear, causing it to twitch quickly. She looks up, seeing the sky beginning to shroud with clouds. "Huh. Guess the slight chance of rain won the bet."

"It did, but shouldn't affect us," Axel assures. "We should get these on, though." He reaches under the seats and pulls out some cloths. Once the stallion passes them out to Trizzie and Crimson, they reveal themselves to be ponchos. The other teams seem to be doing the same, intent on staying dry.

The large pegasus stallions that commandeer the carriages finish hitching themselves up. With all bodies boarded and ready, everyone stays put a little longer - every eye gazes out to the horizon line, watching as the sun makes its descent to leave the land in the care of the moon.

In a matter of a minute, the world is finally engulfed in night. A whistle coming from the stallions in front of Axel signal the inception of the operation. The muscle begins pulling the carriages, each one commencing staggered behind the other so they march in a line - Axel's carriage takes the lead.

The carriages pick up in speed gradually until they finally take off, modifying the formation; now they fly stacked over each other rather than in a line. Under the cover of night, they fly high into the sky. The world under them becomes farther and more compressed the higher they rise.

Las Pegasus now lies about half a mile to their right, the man looks over Trizzie's head to keep on eye on it. They are about level with it now; the carriage keeps ascending so they gain the height they need for their drop. After a good distance is achieved over the city, the angle at which they fly levels out horizontally. The flight-path now fixes towards it, and it no time, they are punching air-space high above.

Clouds have condensed above western Equestria. The light droplets pick up to a mild shower. The cold blowing wind becomes even colder with the company of rain.

The ponies which roam the city appear as specks from this altitude. The high-rises, residences, casinos, and offices that litter the cloudy grounds are all perceived from only their rooftops. One particular rooftop on the north-east corner of the city, a prodigious edifice with yellow and green lights that towers over twenty stories, is exactly where Gloriosa commanded their landing.

The man admires this skyscraper. It appears to be a casino hotel mix with plenty of intricate architectural design that overtly expresses wealth. Throughout the ride, everyone has been cracking jokes or conversing using the earpiece. The chatter follows suit to his thoughts, the agents express their appreciation to the building as well, in-between banter and curses to it.

Without much of a warning, both Axel and Trizzie reach in and wrap their arms around each of Crimson's. He reckons it's go-time. Carefully, all three of them stand up against the cold blowing wind as the carriage still flies. Once all three are standing on the seats, they collectively leap straight up. The carriage immediately leaves them behind, allowing them to plummet.

Weightlessness is felt for just a second before gravity forces them to abide. Their fall soon reaches terminal velocity, the distant flashing lights of the city gradually become closer.

Once at the correct altitude, both Trizzie and Axel spread their wings to slow their fall, clutching Crimson tightly so they don't let him go. It takes monumentous effort to hold him between the two pegasi, but they manage well. Their speed stabilizes in a few seconds, their steady float down is reminiscent of a parachute.

They're easy to miss in the night, but Crimson notes the other shadows coming down along with them. They make their steady descent as well, and like a silent crescendo, they all land one after the other on the rooftop. A quick, sharp glance is thrown around to ensure they're still invisible. It seems to be the case.

They collectively move to the roof access door. One of the agents from another squad is taking the lead. She props herself up at the door, taking something from her toolbelt. It's a small, flat rectangle tied to a thin string. She ties the string around her hoof and comes down to slip this device under the crack of the door. She plants her ear on the door as well, her eyes raise upwards in focus.

She doesn't hear anything. She takes back her device using the string and looks at it. She presses it in the very center, a magical holographic display is beamed; an exact replica of what's on the other side of the door. It looks like a staircase that descends down to two more staircases. There doesn't appear to be any bodies.

"Clear," she whispers to her mate closest to her, and he relays the message to everyone else. The mare pockets her device and charges her horn, having it emit a lime-green aura. It takes ahold of the door handle, and in a second, a click is heard. She proceeds to open the door seamlessly.

The mare steps aside and allows entry to the hit squad. Five agents move in first: Axel, Tango, Lila, Trizzie, and Crimson. They leave their ponchos outside with the earth pony team, leading the way in this scheme.

‎

~~<

‎

"Am not bullshittin' ya'! Four-thousand bits, yo!" A stallion wearing a white suit with green accents states, guarding some elevators on the highest floor. He shoots the wind with his comrade across the hallway. He and his post mate have a bandoleer of arrows, a crossbow on their back, a knife on a strap on their foreleg, and a larger blade at their hips. This hallway they stand guard at has nothing but the roof access and their respective elevators.

"Nah, nah, quit fuckin' with me," the other stallion responds atheistically. "No way Five-Tenny's slots even carry that much in 'em."

"Yeah, yeah! Gonna get your dumb ass drunk off the finest wines in the city tonight, then you'll believe me!"

"Pffhohohohaha! Can't wait to be barfin' up a six-hundred bit bottle'a wine right into my toilet, ya' prick!"

They both relish in laughter.

"Hohohahahaha!" "Hehyahyehya!" "Hoohohohoo!" "Hehehyahyahya!" "Hoohoh--" "Hehyahyee--"

They both freeze up briefly, giving each other incredulous looks. One of the stallions reaches towards his neck where he felt a brief ping of pain. Something hard is felt, but he doesn't call it out or mention it. He instead falls onto the ground like a sack of cement, and so does his partner. As their consciousness fade, they hear an elevator ding. The very one they were supposed to guard.

‎

~~<

‎

An indifferent mare dressed in Majesty attire, accompanied by two brawny stallions, hits the button to the elevator. It chimes when pressed, and she patiently waits. The elevator dings off which floor its on, which looks to be the very top. It comes down, down, down, down... down...

Finally, it reaches her floor. The elevator chimes again and the doors open. What they encounter is an empty elevator, fit for their comfort. The mare blinks boredly and walks in, her two guards tail right behind her. With the three boarded and waiting, the mare hits the button to a floor one above hers. The elevator dings, and the doors slowly come to a close.

Just before the doors shut completely, three shadows drop from the elevator's ceiling on top of them. The struggling ends quickly and quietly.

‎

~~<

‎

"UUUUAAAAAHHHH... Eagh..."

A stallion reclining lazily with his hooves up on his desk puffs out an immodest yawn. His eyes dance across over a dozen screens that beam magical holographs, each one watching a certain part of the building.

This security pony is almost half asleep, barely keeping focused on what the screens illustrate. Still, he knows better than to fall asleep. He shifts his chair to the left a bit to reach out for his mug of coffee. He takes it, sips it, and sets it back down before turning his reclining to its original spot. He stifles a yawn again and keeps watching.

Deet, deet!

His eyes widen and he sits up straight, startled by one of the buttons on the left of his desk chiming off. He reaches to hit the button back. "Yes, Majesty?"

"Six more bottles of wine!" the button speaks back to him, the voice wobbling through the magical static.

"Right away!" He releases the button and hits another just next to it. "Hey, Majesty wants more wine."

Brief static returns before a feminine voice boredly replies. "What brand?"

"Just send the same one."

"Ekolovia?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Alright."

He releases the button, ending the interaction. He reclines back and sighs deeply, making sure nothing changed on the cameras while his attention was displaced.

Nothing seems to be out of order. Good.

"HOHRK!"

The stallion suddenly finds his windpipe crushed when a force behind him grapples and restrains him. Try as he might, the force overpowers him and allows no movement.

"RRUUGHKK! RRRKH! ARAUURAAAHRAAAK!"

Struggling and kicking, none of it to any avail. This restraint is kept up for about a minute. His vision slowly blackens at the edges, saliva begins trickling from the edges of his mouth.

...

"Nighty, night~" Axel hums as he moves the body off from the chair and dumps it carelessly onto the tile floor. The stallion himself kicks up to the seat, replacing the braindead guard with himself. He eyes the screens, pressing the earpiece with his hoof. "Tango, Lila. You're good. Rune, do me a favor, unhitch ward thirteen."

Not long after his request, one of the projections that keeps an eye on one of the elevators fissures. It switches from an empty, static image of the elevator's interior to two agents hauling bodies up through the ceiling hatch.

Axel hardly registers the smirk that grows on his face.

‎

~~<

‎

"Twooo mooore fuckin' hoooouurs," a stallion huffs irately to his coworker. Together, they walk along a hallway that contains multiple open doors; offices litter the span of this floor, where usually many voices would be heard talking and communicating while busy work is being done and papers are filed. During after hours, it's a quiet and calm office with only a select few still working.

"I'd kill for a coffee right now," the mare next to him replies with just as much frustration.

"Wish I could drink coffee. That stuff goes right through me, heh, if you know what I mean."

"That's gross, Newlan. Keep your toilet talk to yourself."

"What? So it's cool when you do it, but not me?"

They both pass by office after office, entering a particular room next to the staircase. They enter the break room, where they both stop at the entrance.

"When have I EVER toilet talked!?" the mare grunts annoyedly, but drops her façade quickly. "Stars damn it, I hate it when the janitors turn off the lights in here. I can't see anything."

"They usually don't during this time. Weird. They got vacation or something?"

"Dunno, but can you be a dear and get the lights, Newlan?"

The stallion drops his head and sighs. "Uuugh, fine. But if I knock anything over, you're cleaning it up. You know everypony leaves their shit everywhere in here."

"What? No! Definitely not doing that!"

"Ookaaay? Then let's both go and find the light switch then, princess Complains-A-Lot."

A deep huff comes from the mare. "Whatever."

Together they both try to find the light switch. They proceed into the near pitch darkness, reaching around and bumping into misplaced tables and chairs.

"Why don't they install a fucking window in here!?" the stallion hypes angrily.

"Right? I keep asking PR and they never give me a straight answer!" Her hooves meet a wall panel which has two familiar bumps to it. "... Ah! Hey, I think I got it!" She flicks the switch she touches. The lights do not come on, but a ceiling fan is heard ramping up. "Oh, uh... this one!" She flips the switch next to it. Indeed the lights come on. "Hah! Next time you're going alone--- AAAH-- MMHPHH!"

Her ear-shredding scream is cut abruptly by a hoof coming over her mouth and restraining her from behind. The mare still tries to scream and kick, witnessing her coworker lying dead on the ground, bleeding from his chest. A shadowed figure looms over their body. Another holds her captive.

Lila wipes her blade clean and steps around the body, moving to the horrified mare's front. "Terminal password. Now. If you scream, your tongue comes with me."

The frantic mare hyperventilates from her nostrils. She struggles for a moment to try and understand what was commanded of her, but she eventually nods. Lila glances to Trizzie and nods.

Trizzie lifts her hoof from the mare's mouth-- "AAAH-- MMMMGHPPHH-- MHHPH! MMhmhmhmhmh!" She begins to cry.

Lila huffs in annoyance. She looks down boredly at her knife, and without remorse, she dives in into the mare's left haunch, crippling her and causing her to fall. Trizzie makes up for the slack and forces the mare to stand on her two hindlegs. Said mare bleeds, her left hindleg is slowly covered in trickling blood and quivering terribly.

"Wanna scream again?" Lila questions. The mare, crying and snotting, shakes her head quickly again and again. "Good. Terminal codes?"

Slowly, Trizzie lets go of the mare's mouth. The mare huffs and sobs aloud, but keeps herself from screaming. "W-W-W-Why? Why are you doing this? I just work here!"

"Three seconds to give the terminal codes. Three."

"Please! Please don't kill me!"

"Two."

"I beg of you-huhuhuuu!"

"One."

"Six-ten-H-C-nine-nine! Six-ten-H-C-nine-nine!"

Lila halts, her knife but a centimeter from the mare's chest. She presses the earpiece, "Axel. Six-ten-H-C-Nine-Nine. ... Yeah. ... Good." She moves to sheathe her knife again before turning around to walk out of the room.

"You're going to let me go now? R-Right? Right!?" Cold steel touches her neck. A sharp pressure followed by a sting instantly burns it. "Yohwuh... huh..."

Trizzie lets go of the mare, letting her body slump forward. She holsters her pistol and turns the lights to the breakroom off, following Lila out to the offices.

‎

~~<

‎

"This is highly concerning," an older stallion, dressed in a outstandingly expensive suit, gruffs. He sits forward on his seat, placing his mouth behind his hooves. He sits at a massive oak table that seats eleven other stallions, which all other members present are dressed in similar clothing. All of them are old, rugged, and scowling. None of them are happy. Empty bottles of wine and half-filled wine glasses litter the massive meeting table.

"More than just concerning!" another stallion speaks up emotionally, "this has completely sabotaged our western port! What say you, Majesty!?"

The stallion named Majesty closes his eyes in aggravation. "Poronto was nothing more than a pawn, our western port will be under new leadership by the end of the week."

"And who's in line to succeed him?" a different stallion responds. "Hmm? Your errand colt Blazer?"

"Worry not about the successor, Montclaire!" another stallion fills in the conversation. "Who will rid the port of Gloriosa's force!? They hold every warehouse with an iron hoof! A direct attack would be costly!"

"A direct attack would be the only option!" once again, a unique voice butts in. "Majesty has FAILED to train his strength appropriately to counter what Gloriosa's force offers!" This stallion points his hoof accusingly.

Majesty has had his focus on the windows that overlook the city of Las Pegasus from high above. He remained idle, ignorant even, but the sound of a direct verbal accusation drives him to grit his teeth and snap his neck towards the offender. "WATCH!" Majesty shouts vigorously, "... your tongue. Remember... who you address."

The stallions becoming unruly around the table stare at him with wide eyes, the venom from the alcohol they've been drinking leaving their system almost instantly. Almost.

"... I understand... all of your concerns," Majesty continues. "And worry not. I have MADE... the appropriate arrangements. If Gloriosa wants to send her DOG... anywhere near our sward... she will wind up without a pet."

"H-How can you be so sure of that?" a stallion meekly raises question. "We do not know when and where they will strike!"

"Leave the details... to me..." Majesty comes off of his hooves and presents a scheming smile. "I will ensure this enterprise continues beating its heart. No matter the cost." Voices around the table spread quickly. Tensions are obviously rising. "Rest easy, my good fellows! Please... rest easy. Yes, here... allow me to replenish our provisions of the finest cherry wine Las Pegasus offers..."

Everyone seems interested in the prospect of drinking more expensive wine. Majesty reaches to a orange button to his left and presses it. A beep is heard. "More Ekolovia wine. Chilled this time." He lets go of the button, reclining back and smiling. Everyone eyeballs him silently. Majesty waits for the expected response from the intercom.

...

Nothing. Majesty's smile turns to a scowl. He reaches back towards the button again and repeats. "Slacking will only cut your pay. I suggest a response IMMEDIATELY." He lets go of the button and sits back again, glaring at nothing angrily.

"... Not even his own employees dignify him," a stallion comments.

"A leader that cannot even fetch a bottle of wine from his subordinates!" another butts in drastically.

"SILENCE!" Majesty screams, his voice penetrates the ears of everyone around, but none of them seem to be listening. He grows only more furious. "FROM YOUR DISRESPECT, ALL OF YOU WILL SUFFER!"

"He wishes death upon us!"

"Indeed! Indeed he does!"

"Cutting trades with his central route will be my next token pass."

"As will I cut trade! Majesty, you have just lost your oil supply line! The words of a stallion such as yourself are only empty threats!"

An uproar against a single target commences at the table.

"ALL OF YOU!" Majesty barges up from his chair, "ALL OF YOU WILL DIE! ALL OF YOU WILL BE SMITTEN FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!"

Kik-CLANK! Metal hits the carpet. The only reaction these stallions can muster is a sharp glance to the noise. Two of the ceiling ventilation grates were kicked in by a seemingly invisible force.

Pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf-pewf!

Screaming comes from every stallion at the table as an unseen assault is had on this meeting room. Brief gleams of shiny metal come from two vent tiles that were opened without notice. These tiny metal rods travel and meet every posh stallion in the room.

The only stallion that is left unscathed his Majesty himself, he sits at his seat completely stunned, too shocked to move. He stares, pen-pricks for eyes, directly forward as every other stallion around him is tranquilized. Bodies fall like heavy bags one by one, until he is the last one left standing.

The two shades finally come down from their hiding place. They land on the soft carpeting of the meeting room gracefully, standing up to eye the last remaining survivor. Majesty bares witness to a towering human and a pegasus stallion dressed in all black.

"Get the door," Tango calls to Crimson.

The man abides and stands at the door to the room, reloading his weapon on the way and pocketing the emptied dart mag. He places his ear to the door. He hears no noise from the other side.

Tango walks without hurry towards Majesty.

"GET! GET AWAY!" the fumbling stallion cries to his assailant, cowering into his seat.

"Understand, Majesty," Tango begins, "that you did this to yourself. Your greed has dug your grave and etched your tombstone. Now," he reloads his weapon and pockets his emptied mag, "you get you pick the way you die. So kind of me."

"YOU ARE A BASTARD!"

"What else is new. ... The purple crates. Where are they?"

"SHOVE THE CRATES INTO THE FATHEST REACHES OF YOUR RECTUM!"

"Ch-heh, you always did talk funny." Tango reaches for his blade, unsheathes it, and paces the final distance towards Majesty. "Least you aren't running away. I respect that."

"NO! NO! ..." Majesty squirms in his seat, seeing the assassin approach him, step by step. "... Hmhmhmh."

Tango is confused by this very subtle change of attitude. Majesty's pleading and crying is suddenly replaced by suppressed laughter. Now that he's close enough, he catches something worrisome. A voice is being fed into Majesty's ear. This voice sounds exactly like... Majesty's.

He sees it. An earpiece inside this stallions ear.

"Give Gloriosa our regards," Majesty's double states, completely dropping the accent that he was holding. "I'll see you in Tartarus."

Confusion turns to chills. By the slight of Tango's eye, he catches the sly motion. His heart skips of beat. He snaps his head to Crimson, "DECOY! WE'VE BEEN DUPED!"

Crimson turns to him just as confused.

Click. The stallion presses a button under the oak table.

"RUN!--"

BOOOOOM!

"REAGH!" Crimson is shoved back into the door, breaking it off its hinges as an explosion erupts from the oak table. The entire meeting room is instantly obliterated, taking the double and Tango with it. The man is thrown into the hall outside and slammed onto the tile wall. It shatters at his impact, bouncing him off and leaving him in a cough.

He grits his teeth and rights himself up, unsteady and reeling from the powerful blast. The entire building enters alert - sirens buzz, the lights flash red and yellow, and movement is heard from floors above and below him. After the ringing in his ears begins to settle, he can finally comprehend the noise his earpiece is making. It's Axel's voice.

"Sky! Hey! Heey! What's going on!? We heard an explosion, the whole building shook!"

The man checks his weapon to see if it's still functional and readies it. He tries to shake off the discombobulation and reaches to touch his earpiece. "Decoy. Fuckin' Majesty wun't real. Took himself out. Tango too."

"Shit!" "No!" "Fuck!"

Multiple voices chime their grief for the loss.

"Where are you!?" Axel questions again.

"Still on the sixteenth floor," Crimson responds. "Movement all around me. Thinkin' I'm trapped."

"Shit, shit, shit! How the fuck did they know we were coming!? Rrrgh... just... hold on! Damn it! Damn it, damn it! I can't see Majesty on the wards--!"

"Tenth floor!" A feminine voice cuts Axel off, the voice of one of the unicorns. "Sky, tenth floor! That's where Majesty is! He's trying to leave via carriage boarding the balcony in the deluxe suite! North end! I repeat, north end!"

"How'm I gonna get there?" Crimson questions apace.

"The board room elevator blew out during the explosion!" Axel directs. "Looks like the shaft is still intact! Take the emergency ladder down!"

"He's preparing to leave!" The unicorn calls out again. "We need to hurr-! Ehrck!"

"Northwind!?" Another voice calls, a stallion in the unicorn team. "Northwind! Come in!"

"CARRIAGES SWARMING THE ROOF!" a stallion from the earth pony team screams. "ROOF IS NO LONGER A BLUE-ZONE! REPEAT, ROOF IS NO LONGER A BLUE-ZONE! We--!" his voice is also interrupted.

Crimson grits his teeth. The voices of his team are being cut one-by-one. He grasps his forehead in angst and wastes no more time. He kicks into a sprint down back into the meeting room, seeing the entire room practically missing and in flames. The smoke of the fire raises out of the gap in the building and into the night of Las Pegasus. The rain which falls into the gape causes the smoldering blaze to hiss in protest.

He sees the empty hole to the left where the elevator was supposed to be, now blown out and fallen down to the first floor. He carefully traverses the rubble and unsteady flooring to the shaft. He looks into it, seeing it travel down for what seems like the abyss. He notes the metal ladder directly to his left, the one Axel indicated. He clambers around the broken elevator doors and leaps lightly to catch the ladders. Safely clasped, he puts his hands and feet to the sides of the ladder to descend quickly.

"Trizzie! Lila!" Axel calls through the earpiece, "are you two still on the seventeenth floor!?"

"Yeah!" Trizzie responds, "the ceiling came down on us! Whole floor is on fire! We might have to escape through the windows!"

"What side!?"

"South side!"

"NEGATIVE! NEGATIVE!" another earth stallion calls, "SNIPERS ON THE SOUTH AND EAST! We-- Rrh-GRAAA! Huh, hrugh -- MORE SETTING UP! SOUTH AND EAST ARE A NO-GO!"

"Damn it!" Lila curses, "the south is the only side we have! Everything else is ON FIRE!"

"Just sit tight!" Axel tries to assure, "I'll abandon post! I'll try to get to ground-level and clear out the scopes!"

"Do it quickly, Axel!" Trizzie cries before releasing a distressed cough. "It's getting hot in here!"

Crimson's suit squeaks in dissent as he continues to descend the latter at such a high speed. The elevator doors that help him number the floors pass one by one, and while he does not understand the text, he finally counts six signs. Floor ten.

He brings his hands and feet in to firmly grasp the ladder, stopping his downward fall instantly. He reaches his left fist to punch the metal door that closes him out right in the center. His knuckle imprint is left on the door and it caves in just enough to warp the metal at the closing seam. He brings his fist back and wedges his left foot in the seam, grunting in exertion at forcibly prying the door open against its will. Once its open, he clambers from the latter into the hallway of the tenth floor.

"SHIT!"

The man hops in only to encounter four stallions holding their crossbows ready at the left end of the hall, one of them pointing him out. Before they can ready their shots, the man whips his pistol from its holster and fires a dart towards each body, completely forgetting his weapon has no hammer and reaches for nothing between each lightning shot.

Three shots land dead on their necks, but the fourth shot was a little off and hit the stallion on the right eye.

"Aar-gah! AAah! My fucking--!" he drops his crossbow and holds his head, falling onto his side, "Ahaaahaa! Haha! Aah, aah... ... uuh..."

Crimson turns to the right end of the hall, seeing some ponies poking their heads out from suite doors barely cracked open to witness the scene. He lines his lips and ignores them, turning again to dart down the hallway, deeper into the suites towards the north end of the building. Every room looks the same to him, none of them are different from the other. These doors open one by one as the residents who have had their night ruined by the chaos fearfully check the commotion.

The man ignores them all, exhaling repeatedly from his nose as he runs. Turn after turn, the rooms keep melding into a mess only labeled by numbers he does not understand. He tries to keep himself heading north, until--

"There!"

He sees two guards standing posted at a door at the very end of the corridor, where this door is decorated and unique. He aims his weapon swiftly to push two darts into either guard, dispatching them before running in and ramming the fancy door open with his shoulder.

The door breaks at the handle and opens in, bashing away a stallion just on the other side. Crimson sets foot inside a large, exclusive suite that indeed does have a balcony at the far end from where he stands. And there he sees him, a pony that looked exactly like Majesty's double is ambling towards a carriage that just arrived for him on the balcony. The balcony is held off by a huge glass pane and glass door, which was just closed once Majesty exited for the carriage.

Between him and Majesty, over ten guards are present in the suite and the balcony to keep him safe. Many courses of action debate in his head at once... none of them work. Except...

He kicks into a sprint, despite each guard raising their crossbows. He picks up the henchmen he hit with the door and uses him as a shield. He rushes past the rest, some even try to body him, but they are ran down without a hitch in pace. Arrows fly at him in what feels like hundreds. They wheeze past him, flying by in slow motion - many of them sticking into the meatshield that covers his face and chest, until one lands on his left shoulder. Another on his back. Another on his left tricep.

His rush continues even after the projectiles meet their mark. He lets go of the arrow-battered body, leaps over a couch, vaults over a marble railing, and dashes up a flight of marble stairs until he reaches the glass doors that bar him from his target. Relentlessly, he charges through the glass, breaking the door and the giant panel. Shards fall like rain behind him, chiming out an unwelcomingly loud crashing of glass.

The distance is closed on Majesty step by step. It all feels as if time is crawling. Each step, each breath, his target is closer. Majesty is boarding the carriage, crying and calling to the stallions to move even though he isn't fully on. Two guards step in to wedge themselves between Crimson and the target.

Even if he wanted to change plans now, it's too late. This is what he went with, and now he's got to commit. In this brief millisecond of realization, maybe it wasn't the best plan.

It's far too late now.

Crimson ends his sprint with a hop, a bending of his knees, and a massive spring-jump up towards the carriage that has commenced its move. The man overshot the jump, flying just over his target. But he reaches in to grasp Majesty's head. His velocity keeps him moving, he uses this to snatch him up and taking him, like an eagle swooping down on its prey. Together, they fly over the edge of the balcony and plummet with the rain towards the garden below.

"YEAAHAAAAAAAHAAAAA!" the earth stallion clasped in Crimson's steel grip screams as wind rips past them. "CRRREEEEATURRREE! VIIILE! DEEEEMOOOON!"

The man eyes this old wrinkly bag with disdain. As the ground approaches, he couples his right shoulder onto the stallion's chest, trying to avoid landing on the arrows that perforate him. They crash into the tall trees that shade over the garden. From their collective weight, branches and vines are broken right through using the stallion's body, but doesn't prevent the man from also suffering from whips and impacts of his own. Red spits and shoots in many directions as thin lacerations paint both parties.

CrRRACK!

Blood gushes from the stallions mouth, nose, and eyes when their landing is finally had on a shrub patch. The man slams the ground using Majesty as a cushion, further protected by the patch of shrubs they landed in. The stallion is dead instantly. Water and blood pool under the bush.

"... Fhk," Crimson grunts, his body completely shaken from the collision. Even with all the cushioning in the world, falling ten stories did not bode well with his shoulder, head, and legs. The man grits his teeth to rise to his feet and off the bloody bag of flesh. His ears are ringing enough to deafen him, his right leg almost gives out from under him, and his right arm is lame. He takes his left hand to wipe the blood from his nose and mouth, trying his best to limp away from the crash site.

For the second time, his tinnitus clears just enough to allow the babbling earpiece to provide coherent words. "SAY SOMETHING!" It's Axel's voice. "DAMN IT, HEY!"

Crimson reaches around his chin to touch the device in his right ear, wincing from the pain of the arrows stuck in him. "Dead..."

Multiple voices chime in, battered with relief and distress, but Axel drowns them out. "HOLY SHIT, SKY! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?"

"Sky!" a mare from the unicorn team calls, "Majesty's troops are headed your way! Our carriages are still circling the edge of the city! Run there!"

The man directs his unsteady eyes forward, seeing the city of Las Pegasus ends just after the garden. His trembling walk turns into a struggling jog. He holds his ribs as he moves, trying to keep himself from falling over. The edge comes closer and closer, stepping around and over fruit bushes, avoiding tall trees, and keeping his combat boots from getting stuck in vines.

"MAJESTY!" "STARS ABOVE!"

Voices of henchmen howl behind him as the corpse is found. He can't let himself be caught. He hopes enough flora blocks their view of him so he keeps jogging.

"THE BLOOD TRAIL! FOLLOW IT!"

"Gah-damhet," he huffs to himself and forces his body to pick up the pace. The edge of the city is nigh, all that stops him from jumping off the edge is a marble railing roughly about his height. But he doesn't see any pickup. There's no carriage here for him, or anywhere from what he sees. He pushes the earpiece again, "W-Where?"

"Jump!" the mare demands. The man squints. "Now!"

He clenches his teeth. He can't jump in this condition.

"BLOOD ON THE STRAWBERRY PATCH! THIS WAY!"

But there's no other option. Crimson reaches awkwardly for the arrow lodged on his shoulder, grasping it tightly from the base of penetration, and yanks it out forcefully, taking a good piece of flesh with it. "Rrrh!" He reaches for the next one on his tricep, it comes out along with one single stream of blood. He bends forward and grasps the one arrow stuck in his back, "Mmrh, rrrrhh!" It burns, as if boiling water was being poured onto his nerves. "RRrrh! Rhhgh!"

Glish!~

Panting, the man tosses the arrow haphazardly before proceeding to the rail. He leaps up as best he can with one leg and hauls himself up using one arm. He lazily rolls over the railing's top and lets his body fall limply off the edge of Las Pegasus.

A moment of peace takes him as weightlessness encompasses his aching body. He closes his eyes, intent on not reopening them any time soon.

...

"Gotcha!"

A sudden force startles him. Two unicorns latched onto him from the carriage they sat at, which zoomed by to intercept his fall. He is brought in quickly and rested on their laps. The muscle flying the carriage look back briefly to ensure he's there, then return their attention forward to evacuate.

"Axel," the man groans, eyes still closed.

The mare who holds his head hears his quiet call. She pushes her earpiece, "Axel!?" she calls over the heavy wind, "what's your status!?"

"Runa! Is Sky with you!?" the stallion responds in a pant.

"Yes! We've already evacuated! Have you!?"

"GRRH-HAA!" screaming and flesh meeting a blade sounds off. "Heeh, hrrh... not yet. We still got six agents trapped on the building. Makes sure they come home too. Lila! Trizzie!"

"Trizzie is unconscious!" Lila cries, "Axel!"

"JUMP! Grab her and JUMP!"

"The snipers--!"

Crimson's hearing becomes a pool of noises. He feels oddly relaxed, other than the hideous burning he feels and the rain making him feel damp and heavy. The laps of these ponies are soft enough to rest easy, and he failed to realize the carriage has some nice leather seats with plenty of padding. The surreal placidity almost makes him forget what he was just doing.

Strange, he is being touched. But in a hazy realization, he figures out what it is, even if he's too tired to open his eyes and confirm it. The two mares who hold him are trying to patch him up. That is kind of them, he thinks. He reckons he could use the help. Whatever liquids they are using on him, nothing seems to burn or cause discomfort. It is as if all the pain has conglomerated into one empty sensation. He has felt this quite a number of times. Maybe it is the stupefaction talking, but he might kind of like this feeling. Or at least, it is familiar. Masochistic, maybe. He thinks it's best not think too hard on it.

With a slow exhale into the night air, he hopes that everything that happened today was worth something.

Anything.

Act 10: Little Flower

~ The Slums, The Gloriosa ~<
March 26th, Wednesday, 7:21

‎

"My dearest Gloriosa," a mare calls outside of the priceless silk veils.

"Yes?" the pristine mare placidly replies. The front veil is moved to reveal the guard who called her name, along with a certain orange-maned pegasus stallion.

"... Hey," Axel bows his head slightly and puts up a solemn smile.

"Come in, dear, please," she begs with disquiet.

The stallion does as she asks and moves to sit on the table that has the pole. "Did Runa fill you in?"

"She did, every detail."

"Good. ... How is everyone?"

"Recovering marvelously. Please give your thanks to Doctor O for her services when you can."

Axel's front forms a more genuine smile than before. "That's good to hear. I'll be sure to thank her. At least we didn't lose anypony else."

Gloriosa's eyes drop in grief. A brief silence takes them both, giving the distant thumping music room to swallow the air. "I'm sorry, Axel."

"Please don't be. We knew the risks. We... we just weren't prepared."

"No. I wasn't prepared. I should have waited before sending you all. I..." she bites her lower lips quite harshly. "... After you'd been deployed yesterday, one of my reconnoiters came back with very important information. It would have been crucial to know all of this before sending you out, but..."

"But at least we'll know what the fuck happened," he states with passion.

A sigh of defeat comes from Gloriosa before continuing. "In short, we were baited to do their bidding. The suspicion that Majesty was looking to skip the city was true. After an internal meet between the Majestic Tower board, he was supposed to escape. This info was thrown into the air for us to catch because they wanted to use us, and kill you in the process."

"You can't be giving that doddering bastard Majesty credit for this."

"I hate to admit that I am. My first mistake was assuming he'd be so easy to read, age hasn't taken his craft. Somewhere... somewhere between all of you and your companion's work, eyes were watching. How deadly you two were."

"Maybe he had the pier scouted out, but that should've been it. How does that make our plan fall apart? It's like he saw right through it."

"Because you were deployed to kill Majesty, and he assumed this from the start. We searched the files you obtained for us in the security nest before the building collapsed, we learned that he had spent thousands of bits sculping one of his subordinate's face and body to resemble his likeness. A certain Lock Hunter."

Axel's eyes widen in disbelief. "The owner of that pub in central Las Pegasus? That fucker. Why him?"

"Because he and you have had a long history together. A very aggressive, competitive history. Who else would relish in the opportunity to kill their life-long opponent?"

"Tango was the one who took the hit for me..."

"Again, I'm sorry, Axel. He died doing what he did best. He was a great leader."

"... Yeah," Axel clenches his jaw.

"It doesn't end there. Majesty reached out to more than just him. As it turns out... Tango and Sky killed every single western port admin in the Black Horseshoes."

"What!?" Axel reels back.

Gloriosa nods calmly, keeping her unsullied composure. "They were all called to a general commute by Majesty the night of the attack on his warehouse. We don't suspect any of them had a reason to attend such a short-notice meet, but they were enticed."

"With what? A million bits each?"

"Better. The wine he only has access to - Ekolovia."

"Huh. The admins couldn't turn down the treat."

"He knew how to group them, and he also knew we'd go after him next. He puts both pieces together like a puzzle, and what do we get? Complete annihilation of the leadership in the western port... using us. The Honchos are not happy, love... not with you, and certainly not with me."

Axel hangs his head, staring blankly at nothing. "... Hate to say we're fucked, but... we just waged war with the Black Horseshoes."

"Not quite. Not yet. There's still something I may be able to do to amend fences, I only need time. But, it'll require you and your companion. I'll get more information within the week, so please be ready."

Axel lights up at the prospect of still being in graces with the most notorious gang in Equestria. He sighs in relief, "You know I will be. There's one last thing I need to take care of in Las Pegasus. Is it alright with you if I borrowed one of your guys to fly me over there?"

"Be my guest, love."

Axel nods with a growing smile and stands up from the table. "Thank you, Mary. I can always count on you."

"Please, Axel. Don't thank me. Thank you for everything you've done. I'm sure once I've smoothed things over with the Honchos, the western port will be ours again. It'll be like the grand Century of Glitter. With you by my side again."

"Heh," Axel blushes lightly and puts his hoof behind his head. "I'm hoping for that. Give everyone my regards. Especially Sky - tell him I said... ... tell him I said..." Axel stops, deeply contemplating what his next words should be. He throws many around, but settles on... "... thanks." He pushes down emotions and puts up another beaming smile. "And tell him I said I owe his dumb ass a beer. Crazy bastard."

"He's a daring one. I honestly believe no one else would've survived his stunt. I'll surely give your regards to him, including my own~" Axel nods in agreement. "Oh, and... one more thing..." Axel halts himself even if he didn't actually start walking away yet. "Did you know there is a collar around his neck?" Axel seems confused at this revelation. "So you didn't know?"

"No, I didn't. Never really noticed if there was one. Huh. What's wrong with it?"

"It's a Black Horseshoe first-gen model. I don't think there's any keys for it anymore. At least, I wouldn't know where to find one. Where in Equestria did he get so unlucky?"

Axel pauses for a moment. He thinks carefully about his next words. "If I had to guess, remember that ex-Brain I told you about?"

"Oh. What was her name? Licky?"

"Lippy. Lippy Snare. She's the one responsible for his sapience, and I'm gonna assume the collar too. It's one of those self-repairing ones, right?"

"It is. A model before even the beta was finished. Good thing it doesn't have outward resonance magic the newer models have. Majesty's security systems would have detected it almost instantly."

"Damn," Axel states in realization. He notices Gloriosa's rather... displeased stare. "Glory, I really had no idea he had one on."

"It's okay, love, don't worry," she assures, still appearing annoyed but her voice is soft. "I didn't notice it either. Under all of the black he wears, it was hidden very well."

"Yeah. It was."

"... Do you think, maybe... your partner is capable of using magic?"

Axel finds himself stumped. "... Well, I..." He tries to come up with a satisfying remark, but... "... I'm not sure. He's never tried, at least. Collar would be freaking out if he did. Been around him almost two weeks now, hasn't tried it once."

"How long has he been... intelligent?"

"Not too long. When we first met, he said he'd been up for about a month. Makes almost two if you put our time together into that."

"Mm," Gloriosa hums in profound speculation. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to get you two together once this is all over. I'm very curious about him. But for now, I'll focus my energy on the Horseshoes."

"No problem with me, I'll let him know. Just tell me when."

"Thank you, love."

Axel nods and gives his final departing words to Gloriosa. He exits the veil, leaving the beautiful mare to her contemplative lonesome again.

‎

~~~<

‎

Steady blinks are his only movement. His eyes tiredly watch the dark purple colored ceiling. None of the nurses around him have noticed that he has woken up.

Crimson rests on a bed with light blue sheets and a fluffy pillow, located inside the nursing ward at the Gloriosa. He gives brief mind to the fact that the back end of the Gloriosa building is much larger than he anticipated. Then again, he never really tried to look at it from the side or the back.

Offices, residences, and medical rooms span the two floors in the back rooms. All of the Gloriosa's staff lives right at the workplace. Seems comfortable enough, at least. That explains why he does not see much traffic coming in and out of the Slums, save for the actual attendants.

He stops admiring the architecture of the building when one of the nurses, a unicorn dressed in an unnecessarily skimpy pink and black nurse outfit, comes to preform her routine checkup on him. Her uninterested eyes end up meeting his once she approaches the side of the bed, and her pique is raised.

"Oh! You're awake! Well, good morning!~" Her voice is sugary and girly. It's only been one night, and some patchwork was done on his body once he was delivered from last night's hit. She definitely doesn't expect him to be conscious, let alone responsive.

The man simply raises his right hand a bit to sign a 'hello.'

"I'm glad you're okay, sweetie! Just doing my quick little routine here, don't mind me!~" she states as she writes into a clipboard, holding the quill and clipboard with her magic. "Need anything? Water? A snack?"

"Both," the man states with an exhausted rasp.

The nurse's eyes close for a happy, cutesy smile and she nods. "Anything uncomfortable?" The man shakes his head. "Hm!~ I'll be right back with your things, mmkay?~"

He nods once more and the nurse takes her leave. He goes back to staring at the ceiling for a bit longer, letting some thoughts pass through him. He shifts his focus to the other attendants of the nursing ward, which include both Lila and Trizzie, two from the unicorn team, and four out of the five from the earth pony team.

He sees the condition that they're in compared to himself ranges from about the same to worse. Much worse. The earth pony team got the brunt of it, it seems. A lot of them are in body casts and maimed. They held the main burden from the outside force, the man's reverence is high for them. The two from the unicorn team and the two from the pegasus team look like they just need rest and some stitches, medicine, and other more basic matters.

After assessing the group, he glances at the end of his bed and notices a plastic mobile clothing rack has his duster and clothes. Everything looks to be there, which he's grateful for. He regrets taking off his clothes, or at least leaving them unsupervised. If he lost something important...

The man discards his comfort and throws off the blanket, pulling the needle out of his right arm. He rises from the bed and walks without much issue towards the rack. The other nurses in the room stare over at him, questioning him with their gazes.

He reaches for his duster and fishes through it. He rummages into the inner pocket, feeling what he needs to feel. "It's there," he murmurs to himself, letting a wave of relief blow through him.

"Are you okay?" Another sweet voice calls from just behind him. The man turns his head slightly to see one of the other nurses approached him. "You really shouldn't be out of bed, hun."

"I'm fine. Thanks for keepin' my stuff safe."

"Oh, of course! Are you sure you're feeling okay? Nurse Peppermint is coming with your snacks, please wait for her."

"Sure. Keep an eye on everyone else, though. They've had it harder'n me."

"We will, hun. You're very caring."

The man begins to take his clothes, getting himself dressed from just his underwear. The nurse named Peppermint returns into the ward not long after, with two mason jars of water and three different snacks in her magic. She stops her humming and notes the man standing. "Oo! You're out of bed?~"

"Yeah," he replies, finishing dressing himself by popping out his duster collar. He walks towards her to meet her halfway, where the unicorn sets his items down on his bed. "Appreciate it."

"Sweetie, your stitches! We don't want you cutting back open again, like a teddy bear that just visited the tailor's!~"

"Can assure you, I'm fine." He takes one of the mason jars and unscrews the lid, bringing it in to chug the whole thing rather immodestly. He then moves to take one of the snacks, a red delicious apple, and chomps down on it in chunks. The nurse only stares in stupefaction.

"His appetite sure looks fine~" One of the other nurses around comments as she tends to her unconscious patient. "Whatever you did, Peppermint, he's up. Mine's still out like a light."

Peppermint looks terribly confused. She knows the stitches and wounds he suffered, he definitely shouldn't be out of bed right now. It's only been one night. "... Uhuhum~ ... Well!" She beams and puts a hoof to her cheek. "I'm glad you're all better now!~ Would you like me to get your release forms?"

"Is it neshesshary?" The man replies, mouth full of a peanut butter granola bar he took in one bite.

"They are, sweetie~ Gloriosa likes to keep tabs!"

The man simply nods. With it, Peppermint goes to retrieve the forms from the big desk near the entrance to the ward. Crimson looks again to all of the unconscious bodies that rest around him. He finds himself giving them honor again, breaking out of it only when the paperwork is brought to him.

‎

~~~~<

‎

Sand crunches under his boots as he walks, hands in pockets, towards the rundown old motel inside the inconspicuous clearing. The morning sun gives the Slums a very unique feeling. He can finally see most things in detail, compared to other times of the day. He's used to walking out of the motel during the morning, then coming back at night. Heading towards it so early gives him an angle on it he's not familiar with. It looks worse than it actually is on the inside.

The wood of the steps creak when he ascends - the floorboards protest equally. Learning his lesson from two weeks ago, he lifts his knuckles and knocks on the door.

"Eh-yoh-- Come in!" Some fumbling is heard inside.

Crimson is surprised the door isn't locked like last time. It sure does make things... odd. Maybe he's assuming it's either him or Axel because of what happened before. He takes the handle and pulls the door, entering the lobby. The old camel is posted behind the desk in his usual spot, kukri right next to him on the table.

"If it ain't Mister Sky!" the camel beams his saggy face. "A fair mornin'!"

"Mornin' to you." The camel looks past Crimson, looking visibly confused when he doesn't see another body behind him. "Axel here?" the man asks.

"No'zir, just 'boutta ask you the same thing. Thought he was wi'chu."

Crimson pauses for a moment, then moves to close the door behind him carefully. He faces Moobs, staring him directly in the eyes. The old camel's resting face lights up for a bit of surprise at being started at so directly.

"There a way this ol' body can help ya'?" Moobs questions.

"... There is. Just got somethin' I wanted to ask."

Moobs furrows his thick browline over his eyes. "... This involve the, erh... 'discussions' me'n 'im been havin'?"

Crimson nods. "I just need to know neither of you is in danger. If any of you wind up dead because of this..."

"Oooh, nooo," Moobs reassures with a genial tone. "Nothin' like that. Me 'n him 'r just fine."

"Then what's he askin' you to do?"

"..."

Crimson glares from behind his hair. The weight of this stare bares a burden on the old heart in front of him.

"... He, erh... he, well, errh..."

"Moobs. Listen close. I ain't gonna tell Axel we spoke. This is fer me. Won't blame you for my doings. Just tell me what's goin' on, maybe I can shine some light in the matter."

The camel deeply mulls on the proposition presented. He tries to convince himself it's a bad idea, but he can't seem to find it in him to say so. "... Right, Mister Sky, I... well, I believe you're good folk. Ain't no harm in lettin' ya' know."

Crimson nods in appreciation. "Now what's he mad about? 'N what's he havin' you do?"

"Well, he's maaad 'cuz I... sorta lied to 'em."

"What kinda lie?"

"Told him that I ain't get no visitors but him and a trader that gives me 'ccasional food 'n supplies. Only folk that come here is them two's."

"What part'a that's untrue?"

"Well, the... t-the trader's name," the camel huffs, becoming visibly agitated. "Listen, Sky, I don't wanna get you in trouble 'r nothin', I just--"

"Hey, hey," Crimson lifts his palms to calm him, "don't fret the small stuff. So Axel's red 'cuz of the name. That's fine. Now what's he havin' you do?"

"..." Moobs locks up again. Crimson stays quiet and gives him some time to breathe and collect his words. The man can tell that this situation is bringing some very unneeded stress on the old camel's heart. "H-He-He wants me to set up an assassination on my trader there..."

Crimson's brows furrow deeply. "Why the hell'd he want you to do that?"

"Axel said he'd take the part 'n bring me food 'n supplies instead! He just... he really wants my trader dead."

"But why?" the man emphasizes. "Why does he want this person dead? They part of the Black Horseshoes or somethin'?"

"No, not the Black-- ... M-Mister Sky," the camel interrupts himself. "I-I don't think I can do what he's askin' me to do. I don't think I can. 'N if I don't do what he says, I'm fixin' to think we're all in trouble! You've seen the way he gets!"

"Judgin' by Axel's tone, I reckon diplomacy ain't on the table."

"Trust you me, if I'd have a way to work this out peaceably, I'd'da done it already!"

"There some way I can help? Can I maybe take your role in this?"

"It--" the camel stops, thinking deeply. "... Mister Sky, I-I don't... I don't know. I don't wanna either of 'em to get hurt. They both mean a lot to me. I can't pick a side."

"Axel looks dead-set on this, Moobs. Like you said, we've both seen what he can do when he's determined. Way I see it, if you don't pick, a side will get picked for you. It ain't a matter of whether you liked what you did, but rather what you can live with."

"I can't, Mister Sky, I can't..." the camel is starting to become emotional.

"... If you're really havin' trouble, then maybe this'll help you decide. You said you don't want either of them gettin' hurt. In a world where gold 'n smiles rain from the sky, that'd be the road to go for. But that ain't it. You not doin' anythin' will ensure both of them get hurt. If you play a part 'n put yer heart in it, then only one of them will. What's better to you? Half of what you care about gettin' gone, or all of it?"

"..." Moobs fights back tears, his lower lip trembles terribly. Almost ten seconds of silence and unbearable emotion engulfs the room, until finally the camel decides. "... I'll... I'll do it." Crimson raises his left brow. "I-I'll do my part in Axel's plan. ... But Mister Sky... please, help me. Please make sure only one of 'em has to suffer. I'll have to run this by Axel too, I'd be right to assume he's returnin' in the evenin'. Not too long now. We'll wait on 'em."

"Right. Gonna dive under the hides."

"You do that, Mister Sky, get yer rest. I'll holler when he's arrived."

The man nods and excuses himself, heading off towards his room. He closes the door behind himself, now alone in his personal wooden square. He doesn't actually feel tired, so he won't lay down yet. He spots the mirror to the right, noticing himself on it. A wry thought - he decides to walk up to it and stare.

Many thoughts blend in his mind as he watches his reflection. Whatever image this glass is conjuring, he isn't familiar with it. Black hair, jaded eyes, and a long scowl, he's a complete stranger. Which is good. To be the part, to act the part. Though, he knows this mask isn't genuine yet. His eyes fall to his chest, where something inside discretely hides.

His hand moves to his left pec, touching over the plush that still hides inside. It hasn't dawned on him how much it really hurt having to leave Autumn behind. All of those emotions forced to be discarded overnight. The love they made, it isn't something soon to be purged from his heart.

All he hopes for now is that his little trick did what it was supposed to. He thinks it might, but only time will tell. Perhaps the collar around his neck served but one purpose.

When he was making love to her, at the finale, he channeled his Arch so that the collar would sap his power from him. As a certain immaterial deity informed him, his seed contains his power. He didn't want to bring down such a burden on a child he'd never meet, so now he hopes the collar draining his Arch did that worry away... hopefully.

He lifts his eyes to himself again. He briefly thinks on how he's had to kill more things in the span of roughly two weeks than he normally would in months. With each life taken, apathy grows. Before meeting Axel, it has been some time since he's taken a life. To his regret, he hasn't lost his step.

Staring at this stranger in the mirror is progressively depressing him. He decides its time to move to the bed and wait for his calling.

‎

~~~~~<

‎

"Alright... think you can handle that?" Axel questions Crimson gravely.

"I can."

"And Moobs," Axel directs his fiery gaze to the camel, taking a moment to let silence weigh on him, but he can't hold the anger for long. "... You've never let me down. Don't do it now." The camel lines his lips, nodding somberly. "... So."

The camel sighs lightly and lifts his left foreleg, glancing down at a rusty old wrist-watch which stands the test of time, well enough to tell it. "Roughly ten minutes left."

Axel nods while licking his teeth. He focuses on Crimson. "Last minute prep?"

"Nah. Ready at this point. But, Axel." The stallion furrows his brows in question. "You sure this person needs to die?"

"You're not talking me out of this, Sky."

"I at least wanna understand. You've been forward about everythin' up until now. More than obvious this is personal, but this matter's involvin' more than just you right now."

"Why can't you just accept the fact that this needs to happen? You're quick to kill without batting an eye, what's changed now?"

"I know who I'm puttin' down. It sounds like we're jumpin' a clueless merchant."

"Hmhmheheh... clueless. Clueless is far from the truth. I want you to listen to me." The stallion exhales some stress through his nostrils, closing his eyes tightly before proceeding. "I have a lot to thank you for. Really. You came through that door not two weeks ago, like a stray animal looking for a home. Little did I know it was one of my biggest blessings stepping right through. I hope you and I can keep working together in the future. You've been a great partner. I thought I lost you back at Majesty's, I was about ready to come off my rocker. Seeing you awake so soon, I... well, a lot of stress fell off my back. I care about you. Heck, I'd go as far as to call you my friend." Crimson lowers his eyes from the sentiment. "You're right, this is my problem, and I'll deal with it myself. I won't force you to help me here, but like everything else you've done, I appreciate you sticking your neck out for me." Axel smiles warmly. "If you walk away right now, I won't hold you to it. I still owe you for Majesty's, don't I? That beer's waiting. We can get it later tonight."

Crimson remains unspeaking for a moment. The man shifts his eyes between Axel and Moobs once, then returns to the stallion. "... I wouldn't be a very good friend if I left you hangin'. That drink can wait till we're done here."

The stallion beams widely.

"Two minutes, y'all," Moobs states seriously.

Eyes from Crimson and Axel widen. Through their discourse, they nearly neglected their timeframe. They quickly move to set themselves up at their posts.

The motel is shrouded in the blackness of the Slums' dusk. Cautious, silent steps approach it. Axel and Crimson, who are situated right next to the door on opposite sides, hear the wood creaking from the steps outside. The steps come closer and closer, approaching ominously in the dead of night.

Axel feels his heart throbbing in his ears. He can't believe the moment has come. Sword held in the ready, his body twitches in excitement. Rich exhilaration, more than any other hit has given him. It doesn't feel real, he didn't think he would make it here. His body wants to scream.

Moobs' lips are sucked in harshly, as if a bushel of lemons was forced in his mouth. His anxiety is dangerously high. He keeps his eyes locked on the door. The candle which always gently illuminates the room dances in the silence.

Cl-click...

Axel's eyes bulge.

SqueEEeeee~

The door is pulled opened.

Eyes from outside meet Moobs'. The old camel feels his chest nearly cramp at making eye-contact with them.

...

...

The figure proceeds inside.

"'LIL FLOWER, NO!" "Hn!?" "Huh!?" "GRRAH!"

Crimson's heart skips when a kukri comes intentionally flying towards his head; his course of action is completely interrupted and moves to avoid the blade. He barely misses a swift death, but his heels kick on the sofa chair that was behind him, causing him to stumble back and fall. His head impacts the doorframe to the hall, bringing an annoying ringing in his ears. He tries to quickly shake it off, righting himself up and attempting to assess the situation. Among his blurred, stunted vision, it all becomes completely unreadable. The room is in dismay.

Moobs is panicking behind his desk. Axel's sword swung and was barely dodged, bouncing off the front door's frame. He is tackled by his target, and now they wrestle for control of the blade.

Eyes glittering in disbelief, Crimson's mouth falls and his brows raise as he stares at both bodies tussling. The two in front of him...

"AH MISSED! OH, STARS, AH MISSED! 'LIL FLOWER, NO!"

Crimson hears the distress of the camel who attempted at his life, but it doesn't register in his narrowing mind. He sees the target, the one that Axel thrusted his sword upon. She barely missed it, suffering a laceration, and is now fighting for control of the weapon, where either strength will prove the death of the opponent.

His thumping head aches, his body feels like metal. He can't seem to organize his thoughts. His body screams to move, to react. To do something. Anything.

Why is it taking him so long to move? Move!

Fucking move! MOVE!

"RRH!" Crimson grits as his eyes glow with a golden fire, a brief pang of irrationality compels him, causing him to dart forward and tackle both of them. Due to this ferocious movement, he is thrown into a spin and slams onto the wall, along with Axel and the oppressor. The oppressor is caught with Crimson's body and indirectly used him as a pillow against the wall. Taking the brunt of the slam, Crimson grunts and falls to the ground, disorientated further. Axel tumbles and hits the wall with his back and head, concussing him deftly. The sword is tossed off to the side and impales the couch.

With this window of opportunity, the oppressor swiftly rises to her hooves and takes the fumbled blade. With an unmistakable cry, she lifts the sword up and drives it down onto the stallion.

"ERH-- EHURGH!" The sword penetrates his chest, deep, until it perforates his backside. The oppressor that stuck the weapon backpedals in fear of what she has just done. She watches in horror as the chest cavity of the one she stabbed is now leaking blood. Each beating of Axel's heart is another throb of life out of his mouth and wound.

Axel unsteadily gives his gaze to Crimson. With only enough consciousness to murmur, the stunned man and him make eye contact for a precious second. "... Sky?"

Crimson's mind scatters like an earthquake. A void of guilt wells - the mutter of a voice, unrealized and despondent, fills it to the brim. Axel's breath gives way to death - his eyelids peacefully fall to a half-lidded state and his chin tucks. His rasp is no longer.

The trembled breathing of both the mare and Moobs scratch the silence.

The thoughts in Crimson's head still fire a million times per second. Sitting up, back against the wall, he glares at the target he was supposed to kill. And she stares at him in return, like an animal under the scope of a rifle. "... Dahlia..."

At hearing her name uttered, she gasps and reels, and Moobs also reels at this revelation. Her magenta eyes dart between the human and Moobs. Her unsteady breath becomes worse. She can't find the words to say... so she instead turns and bolts it out of the motel, swinging the door open so it slams loudly through the night.

Silently, the man reaches his hand out. Him and Moobs exchange glances. Pissed are the gleaming hazel eyes of the man, but Moobs is that of a deep concern.

"Wrath upon me later, ya fool! Get out there'n get 'er!" Crimson brightens in realization. "Go!"

Scampering, Crimson rises and books it out of the motel into the fogged night. His mind is still a mess, but a directive acts as his guiding light. He still hears the clopping of her hoofsteps. He can catch her.

He will catch her.

Then and Now

~ The Slums, the Dilapidated Streets ~<
March 28th, Wednesday, 19:07

‎

"Hey!" Crimson shouts, extending a clawed hand as he sprints. She keeps running, jumping over piles of garbage and swerving through alleyways. "Why won't she listen!?"

He is certain she can hear him. Several times he has called her name, but she denies him any response.

The chase continues. His breath is coming in deeply through his nose. His legs kick the sanded cement under him, crunching glass and litter along the way. This goose-chase finds an irritating pattern - he begins to close the distance on her, but she darts to another alleyway. By the time he rounds the turn, she puts distance on him again.

He feels as if he's been running through the same alleys for an eternity. She refuses to stop running away.

The next alley they sortie into is finally distinctive from the others. It's wider, cluttered with much more garbage, and reeks a foul stench. She begins to ascend a staircase of trash bags that leads over a barbed fence, hopping up repeatedly until she can leap over the barbs.

Crimson bothers not with the trash bags and jumps from the ground, front-flipping in the air until he crashes down on all fours on the other side. He lifts his head up. His heart skips a beat at their eyes meeting. She stands well over ten meters away but has finally stopped and turned to look at him. He sees it, her cheek, hidden behind her frazzled mane - the wound caused by Axel's refined blade drips blood down to her chin and onto the floor.

They both end up in a clearing, similar to the one where Moobs' motel is located, but the buildings in this square opening are sky-reaching and visibly more abused than other structures in the area. It must be the older emptied side of the town. This clearing looks almost like a fighting ring, one with no crowd to be had. A quiet, desolate corner lost in time.

Crimson rises to his feet, gazing at her. Both she and him pant to recover from the chase, only their breathing dispels the silence. Her magenta orbs gleam in the murky night. Her teeth are tightly clenched while deep agitation fixes her expression.

Crimson reaches his hand out and takes one step towards her but immediately stops when she reciprocates with a back-step of her own. He wants to speak, even opens his mouth to do so, but he's caught off by her yelling out first: "If you think you're gonna kill me, you've got another thing coming!"

Kill her? "... Ain't... gonna kill you."

"Then stop following me around, damn it! Who are you!? What do you want from me!?"

He's taken aback at first, but he quickly realizes that he might not exactly look like... himself. "Dahlia..."

She lowers her head and spreads her wings. "Who the hell is Dahlia!? You've got the wrong pony, freak! Damn Horseshoes got crazy talking humans all over the place now or what!?"

'Talking humans all over the place.' The idea of that throws a gut wrench. With a frown, he brings his hand to his chest. "Dahlia, it's me."

"I don't know who you are! I literally just asked!"

"... Crimson."

Her eyes brighten, giving her features a second of vulnerability, but it near-instantly returns to ire. "What? You think I'm stupid? Go crawl back to whatever lab let you lose, freak!"

"No, Dahlia, it's... it's me," he says as he tries to get closer, and again, she backs away. Why doesn't she believe him? Does she not remember what his voice sounds like? "Dahlia--"

"Rrrh, STOP calling me that! I'm NOT whoever the hell that is! And you're not--! ... You're not him!" Her teeth clench so hard they might break.

"Why don't you believe me? ..." Then he stops. A thought dawns on him like a heavenly light. He should have noted it sooner. "... You do believe me. You know it's me."

"Stop talking out of your ass! This is really starting to piss me off! Just go away already!"

"... You know it's me. If you didn't..." he points to her extended wings, "... why haven't you flown away? Why did you let me chase you?"

She looks back to her left wing with spite, then back to him. Her lips purse so tightly they tremble, "You can't prove anything!"

Prove it? He stops momentarily, letting his arms limply fall to his side. His left hand then moves to his face, lifting all of the black hair that shades his eyes and pulls it back. His hazel orbs stare into hers, and for a brief second, they sheen with gold. "Grhk!" It disperses as quickly as it comes and he falls to his knees, his hair comes back down to shade his features again. He lifts his eyes past the strands, noting a look of concern on her face from the sudden collapse. Though, as soon as he stands back up, appearing in good health, her face hardens as if she was never worried. Crimson does his best to deliver a smile, putting his hand over his chest again. "It's me, Deedee."

She doesn't reply. He takes another step towards her and she counters the step, except this time, Crimson doesn't stop walking. He continues stepping to her until Dahlia finds her flank pressed against the sediment brick wall of a building. She inhales sharply at being cornered, and like an animal with no escape, she lowers to the ground and becomes defensive. He draws near, step by step, tensing the pegasus with the landing of his boots. As soon as he's close enough, he extends his hand towards her, if only to make sure she's real.

She darts to the left, skidding on her hooves to evade his touch. She closes her wings and turns around to face him again, breathing heavily once more - not from exhaustion, but rage. The man remains put, staring back at the fuming emotional pegasus.

"Who... do you think you are?"

Her words are like salt in a wound, cold as an artic breeze. "What do you mean?"

"Dense as always. Aren't you?"

"If you could just explain--"

"Shut up! Shut up! I don't have to explain anything to you!"

"How'm I gonna understand?"

"You don't need to! You never needed to! And you never did! Back in Canterlot, after you got taken! Do you know how long I spent trying to sneak into the Castle to break you out? How much money I lost having to bail myself out when I got caught!?"

Crimson stops at this disclosure. "You snuck into the Castle? Why the hell would you go 'n do somethin' like that?"

"Why else!? To-- To--! ... You know what? It doesn't matter why, because it never really did matter! This is all YOUR fault!"

"My fault!?" He finally envenoms his tone, balling his hands into fists and stomping his right foot forward.

"Hooh, nooo! The angel's getting angryyy! Whatever will I do!?" She stands on her hindlegs and feigns an exasperated victim with her hooves at her cheeks.

"Angel?" he bitterly questions her sarcasm.

"That's the same question I asked!" She falls back to her fours, gesturing as if talking to someone. "Angel!? What do they mean 'angel'!? Are you saying that the moron that was following me around was ACTUALLY a crazy mythical being!? Figures! The glowy eyes, the speed, the strength, the-- the-- ... Rrrh! All of it! It's all your fault! For getting me into trouble, for getting napped by the Guard! For coming to Equestria!"

"Now you tell me how the fuck was that my fault. It was your plan, wasn't it? Goin' to Canterlot? For what? Why'd you wanna go there? Figure you'd be able to auction me off? Good money fer a talkin' human, right?"

Her mouth drops to the ground and her dilated pupils tremble. Her utter shock morphs twitchingly to fury. "WHAT!?"

"I didn't stutter! Lookin' to sell me off, 'long with that stupid ball we got from that death-trap of a temple! You weren't gonna help me! You even told me you only look after yer damn self!"

Both of them come to a stand still. The black air of the Slums seems even more suffocating than usual. They glare at each other, eyes filled with chaste detestation.

Nothing is spoken, even if there's much to say. Crimson feels his throat tightening with every passing second. His tongue rubs the bottom row of his teeth to stave off the anxiousness.

"Hph..." Dahlia's furious glare suddenly breaks, a desolate huff of breath escapes her mouth and her ears fall to her head. Her gritting mouth turns into a clenched frown. The words he spoke drill into the reaches of her heart. The display shakes Crimson to his core, but there isn't a second to lament what he said. She immediately tries to harden her front again. "You're smarter than you look! Yeah! Yeah, I was!" Her voice lacks the same boom from before, but not starved for aggression. "Glad you figured it out! I was hoping to make a killing off you before I went back to Dodge! Six-thousand bits off your ass! Easy! I would have walked away rich and you would be some other idiot's problem! And it would have played out that way if the stupid Guard didn't ruin it! Had it aaall mapped out!"

Crimson's heart plummets to bedrock. His anger melds with his despair.

"I don't know where you came from, or what the hell you're doing here... but Leave. Me. Alone. We don't have any business together. And the sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better--"

"No," the man suddenly snaps back. "That just ain't the truth."

"You're not the judge of that, you arrogant piece of shit."

"We got plenny business together, else you wouldn't have stood here and listened to me. Else you wouldn't have tried breaking into the Castle to get me out."

"Hrrh! I WAS TRYING TO GET YOU BACK SO I COULD SELL YOU! SELL YOU. PROFIT OFF YOU. YES, HELLO, GOODBYE! GET RID OF YOU! DON'T YOU FUCKING GET THAT!?"

"Best believe yer not gettin' rid of me that easily. Gonna give you what you deserve."

The threat stuns her briefly. Her wings expand, ready to take off at the drop of a coin. Her unremitting anger adds a cheeky grin and she kicks some sand with her hindleg. "I dare you to try."

"I damn sure will."

At blinding speeds, Dahlia darts up at his final word. She ascends into the night sky-- "Geh!"

A cumbering weight slams into her several meters into the air and grips the base of her wings. Time slows as the thing that collided into her stares deeply into her soul, their noses nearly touching. His golden eyes glitter, placing a dance of sparkles upon her own. Together, they descend towards a building. Crimson flips them around to take the impact on his back as they crash into the wall of a factory - the breaking of weak cement and drywall sings a ruckus into the still night. The simultaneous hits from landing on his back and the collar's drain nearly causes him to lose his grip on Dahlia.

"HRH! LET ME GO! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL--!"

Crimson keeps holding her body and the base of her wings, keeping her pressed against him to give little room for kicking. He begins to feel the burning warmth of a cut forming upon his cheek, where the one on Dahlia's begins to fade away.

Her fighting and fidgeting come to a halt once a tingling tide passes through her, flowing from the base of her wings to the tip of her muzzle. She shivers lightly and her eyelids come down halfway. After the healing is complete, Crimson lets go, and so does the wave of peace.

Reality crumbles upon her again, and with clenching teeth, she kicks off Crimson's chest. The man grunts and sits up, holding his plexus. She lands a safe distance away, angrily glaring at him as he rises to his feet. Once he's upright, they exchange silent, bitter stares. Another stalemate overcomes the air. Neither of them have anything to say.

...

"Reckon we have a lot to talk about," Crimson finally announces.

Dahlia closes her eyes and lets out a deep, trembling sigh. Under the dim night, the edges of her eyes glitter. Without a word of her own, she turns around and begins walking away. Crimson gets off the ground and pats himself off, taking a pace. He tails her with a lag of a few feet.

She feels his eyes piercing the back of her head. Despite this, she doesn't further acknowledge him and continues walking through the factory.

The two trail past run down machinery, those used for a cider brewery many decades ago. Creaking metal, backdraft and whispering winds, the eeriness only worsens the tension between them. The disorganized crunching of sand and dust under hoof and boot is their only conversation.

Dahlia pushes a double door down the middle, sending it off its weak and rusted hinges to fall onto the ground. Crimson half expected her to take off flying or start running away again, but she doesn't. She keeps walking at her usual pace, leaving a cloud of dust behind for Crimson to walk through.

He holds his breath through it then sighs silently, resuming their empty walk cycle.

As they keep moving, the area takes on familiar structures and paths. Having walked for nearly ten minutes nets them back to the center of the Slums. Judging from the turns Dahlia is taking, Crimson assumes she's heading back to Moobs'. That's what he hoped for, he needed some way to get back.

He'd be correct. Another ten minutes of silent strides puts them in the clearing where the motel is. They continue until they hit the wooden porch of the building, crunching sand replaced by creaking wood.

Dahlia, with more respect to its integrity, opens the front door with her shoulder as it was left partially open. She enters, then Crimson a few seconds after her.

The man notes that Moobs isn't in the front, and... neither is Axel. What he does see is a door behind the receptionist desk being left open. Peering past the doorframe shows a yard at the back of the motel where Moobs is digging a hole at the far end. Not digging, it seems. Covering. Filling up a hole that was already dug.

Crimson stands frozen in the middle of the lobby, peering past the doorframe. The sadness that churns inside him is almost dizzying. Everything happened so quickly, there was little to be done about... anything. He feels the urge to let his emotions surface, but for some reason, they don't. They refuse to. Not even one lonely voyager to course a path along his face. The only solace he takes is that his friend is in good hooves. Moobs is tending to him.

The camel may have tried to kill him, but now he understands. He staves off his vengeance for the moment.

With a spiritless turn, he walks towards the rooms where Dahlia went. Turns out she's still trying to unlock her door, the one at the farthest end, her unsteady hooves tremble with the key. Her breathing is very tense, he can hear it even from down the hall. Her frustration and melancholy surrounds her like an invisible fog.

She winds up dropping the key and curses to herself, extending her wing to pick it up. She didn't pay attention to the man's approach, so when his hand takes the key before she does, her entire body quivers in fright. She looks up at the shaded man, angst flaring up again.

Crimson looks at the door nob, the one which belongs to the room which apparently had an infestation. He reaches with the key and slots it into the nob, giving it a turn, and pushes the door open. The room looks far from invested by insects.

Dahlia snatches the key back from his hand and steps in carelessly. Crimson watches her as she moseys to the bed and throws herself on it.

Carefully closing the door behind him, he takes a look around. Same room as his, though some of Dahlia's belongings are set around, indicating that they've been here all this time. It's a possibility since he never bothered to check this room. Maybe Axel knew.

Her green saddlebags are propped up against the bed, there's an open book face down on the coffee table, and a spare shirt of hers - torn and tattered - is left on the lampshade on the nightstand. The mare herself has her front buried into her pillow, letting her black/silver mane and tail splay around wildly.

"... You wanna explain why any'a this happened?"

“Leave me alone,” she says through the muffle of the bedsheets.

“You ‘n I both know better.”

She flips onto her back with an elongated sigh. “I don’t feel like screaming at you right now. Just shut up.”

“You killed my partner.”

Discarding what she aforesaid, she sits up, her face reddening rapidly. “Uh, he tried killing me!? Hello! Equestria to dumbass! You tried killing me too!”

“That ain’t the full truth.”

“What you did was dumb luck! Moobs saved me, and you know it!”

“Count yer blessin’s, girl. He's dead and yer not. Why’d Axel try killin’ you?”

“Because he’s fucking crazy! And a sore loser!”

“Then you two knew each other. Enemies?”

“Enemies doesn’t even begin to describe it, and I don’t wanna talk about it!”

“Cryin’ shame you don’t, ‘cuz I won’t be movin’ from this here spot ‘till you do.” He points to the floor where he stands, right in front of the door.

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking annoying! Why did you have to show up all of a sudden!? How’d you escape the Guard!?”

“None’a that sounds like an answer to my question.”

“Rrrrh!” They throw spiteful glares at one another, with the pegasus about ready to jump up and attack him. The man stands firm, undaunted, hands as fists, and keeps this staring contest on for as long as he needs to.

...

“… FINE!” Dahlia finally caves in, spitting her words from anger. “WE USED TO WORK TOGETHER! I WAS BETTER THAN HIM, AND HE GOT PISSY ABOUT IT! END OF STORY!”

Crimson mulls her words, even through how aggressive they were.

“You fucking happy now!?”

With a doleful sigh, Crimson steps to the wall next to the door, putting his back against it and sliding down. He sits on the floor with crossed legs, leaning his head back on the wall and gazing to the ceiling. Very few times in his life has he been in a situation that doesn't let him willingly think. The weight of this situation, though, is making this to be one of those times.

Dahlia turns and drops herself back down onto the bed face-down, huffing into the pillow.

The night drowns in a terse silence.

‎

‎

‎ ‎

~ The Slums, Moobs' Motel ~<
March 29th, Thursday, 6:56

‎ ‎

Nothing indicates that morning has come, except the room's boarded up window. Very little light from the outside is allowed to come in, the telling of time is mostly obscured in this ramshackle room.

Crimson's eyes burn. His sclera is straddled with veins while a deep blackness highlights the lids. He couldn't sleep. The best he got was thirty minutes, broken between small intervals throughout the night. The monotony had set in many hours ago.

What breaks it now is Dahlia's shuffling. She had been face down the entire night, which initially concerned Crimson. That is, until she flipped over onto her side for a bit before returning to her original position. That was hours ago.

Though now, she does it again. She flips onto her side, stays like that for a few seconds, then continues rolling until she is facing the ceiling. Crimson lifts his gaze to her. It's quickly obvious that she didn't sleep for shit either. Dark circles encompass her eyelids; a mindless squint of eyes that refuse to stay open on their own.

Crimson can tell she's aware of his presence. Even then, it takes minutes for anything to happen.

"Rough night?" he comments.

"You think?" she replies simply. "... You?"

"Yeah."

Lined lips, fiddling tongues. Both don't follow up after that for some time. The burning urge to ask a million things is suppressed, especially after the tense ending to last night, but one finally escapes the mare's mouth. "... Hey. Why'd you take my cut away?"

"... Mh?"

"Don't act dumb. The one Axel gave me. Why'd you take it away?"

"..." Crimson's dark eyes blink very slowly at the ceiling. Dahlia waits for a response, growing rather impatient at his silence. It isn't before long that he finally replies, "... An apology."

She furrows her brows at him in uncertainty. "... For?"

"... Tryin' at yer life."

"..." Dahlia is the next to stay silent. She looks down at the bedsheets and internalizes what he's saying.

"You ain't gotta forgive me. But just know if I knew beforehand what was goin' on, I'd'a never agreed to it."

"I already figured you didn't know it was me you were jumping. The look on your face said it all."

He gently bites his lower lip in muse. "... Still. I beg your pardon."

"It's whatever. Like you said before, I'm still alive." The two regress into a momentary mental reprise, trying to wrap their heads around their current situation. "... Hey," Dahlia calls up again.

"Mh?"

"For what it's worth, I feel bad about what happened. I've..." she trails off briefly, causing Crimson to look over to her directly, "... I can't believe I killed somepony."

"... First time?"

She shakes her head slowly, taking in a stuttering breath. "... Second."

Crimson acknowledges silently by pursing his lips. "... Who was the first?"

"..."

Dahlia recedes into her shell. He can tell she strictly doesn't want to talk about it. "... Pardon my askin'."

"It's whatever. Don't apologize for everything."

A light tension floats between them. Crimson tries to call up something less personal, and the most interesting question he conjures is, "You really got caught tryin'a bust me out?"

She looks away and takes a hoof to the back of her head, bitterly recalling the events. "Yeah. It was expensive as fuck to bail myself too. I wasted pretty much everything I had saved up."

"How much was it? I'll try to pay you back fer it."

Dahlia shakes her head, "Don't worry about it, it was a dumbass move visiting Canterlot when they were having their monthly rally anyway. Totally forgot they land on the last Friday of each month."

"Was unfortunate timing. You forget the date 'r somethin'?"

"Yeah. Taking care of you after you nearly kicked it in front of the temple really threw my plans out of whack. Didn't have a calendar in that cabin."

"Sounds like I fucked up more than'na few things."

"Damn right you did," she shoots a strong glare his way, but drops it rather quickly before looking elsewhere at nothing. "It's whatever, though, I've more than made up for it these past few months."

"Been busy, have ya'?"

"You too, from the sounds of it. Glorious angel." Dahlia crosses her arms over her chest. "Would have been great to know, jerk."

"I'm bein' as sincere as I can when I say this: I couldn't remember. Somethin' happened to me, somethin' you wouldn't believe even if you wanted to. It only came back to me after I nearly killed myself liftin' a rock."

The mare gives him a hung-mouth glare of pure judgement.

"See?"

"You couldn't remember you were a super powerful angel thing... and you remembered lifting a rock?"

"That's the through and through of it."

"... Do you know how dumb that sounds?"

"Didn't think on it too hard, but now that you word it like that, yeah. Pretty fuckin' stupid."

“Plus, what was up with your eye thing?”

“’Chu mean?”

“Your eyes. You did that glowy thing so I could believe you, and, you, uh… you fell, I guess. It looked like you were in pain.”

It clicks like a spark. “Ah. Yeah. This,” he moves his duster collar out of the way to reveal more of his neck, demonstrating the device that binds him.

It takes Dahlia a moment to notice it, appearing mildly confused at what he’s trying to show him. “… Huh. Is that a collar?”

“It is.”

“… One of those magical Horseshoe ones?”

“The very one.”

“It’s stopping you from using your… eye thing?”

“Yeah, my eye thing. Not sure about the mechanics of it, I’m able to use some things.”

“Like your mending thing.”

“Exactly. Haven’t exactly ‘tested’ the do’s ‘n don’ts.”

As Dahlia keeps staring at the collar, many bright assumptions play in her mind. Crimson can tell she’s envisaging scenarios rather inappropriate to most, given away by the growing smirk. “… So—”

“No,” Dahlia is interrupted by him. “Not talkin’ about it. Unless you know a way to get it off.”

She tries to wave off her grin, shifting her eyes to the top left corner. “Nope, sorry. No luck. Those keys are found few and far between.”

“Figured.”

"Aside from getting the dog treatment, everypony knows about your angel stuff. Did all of Canterlot find out what you were after you lifted that rock? What, were you in a strong-pony competition or something?"

"Nah, wasn’t in public. Just one pony witnessed it. She passed everything on to Celestia, spread like wildfire then."

"Huh. Pretty important pony if she was able to talk to Celestia directly."

"You can say that. She's the Head Researcher of Canterlot."

Dahlia stops and pops her eyes wide, leaning forward at him. "The Head Researcher!? That pushover unicorn that everypony thought killed herself!?"

Crimson's brows line quickly, getting a flashback to a comment he heard much before. "... Yeah. How do you even know that?"

"Dude," she glares boredly, "remember who you're talking to."

He isn't satisfied with this answer but doesn't press it further. "... Right, well. Her. She witnessed it first."

"What in Equestria were you doing with the Head Researcher anyway?"

"... It's... complicated." He holds the side of his head with his hand, thinking back. "Puttin' mind to it, we've got a lotta catchin' up to do."

"... Hmh," Dahlia huffs and falls back down onto the bed. "... This is so stupid."

"What is?"

"This," she flings her arms into the air to signal everything. "You. What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that? Why is your hair black? What is wrong with you?"

"Are you expectin' an answer to them questions?"

"Do or don't."

Crimson takes some time to ponder the simplest way he can. "Why I'm here? Guess you mean the Slums. Tryn'a get in cahoots with the honcho here. Why'm dressed like this? Helps me blend in. Why's my hair black? Same reason. What's wrong with me? ... Yer guess is as good as mine."

Not having expected a genuine response, Dahlia is quickly flooded with information. "Woah, woah, wait... what?" She sits up again. "The honcho? Blending in?"

"Heard it first."

"All this crap makes it sound like you're trying to get IN to the Horseshoes. Why? Why the hell would you want to do something like that?" Crimson simpers slightly. "... And what's with that smile?"

"Just funny hearin' you say that."

"Say what?"

"'Hell.' Have you kept sayin' that since we've met?"

Dahlia's head notches back as if she was terribly insulted. "... W-What's it to you?"

"A little amusin', is all. Stuck with you after all this time. It's cute. What's it been? Two months?"

The tan mare recoils at the suggestion and stutters incoherently to spit toxicity, but nothing legible makes it out of her mouth. "Shut up!"

"So I'm right," Crimson grins.

"Annoying as ever!"

"Hey, hey, I'm not blamin' you. At least yer usin' it right, even if you don't know what it means."

Dahlia scoffs and looks away and falls silent. Crimson feels mildly satisfied throwing her into a corner, but what she says next, along with her body language, makes him feel guilty rather than accomplished. The pegasus drops her ears to her head and frowns, still looking away. "Yeah, it's... been a little over two months."

Crimson bites his lower lip, thinking back on how long it's been since she saved his life. "... Yeah. Feels like I just got here. Time flies, don't it?"

"I guess it does."

"Safe to say we're still a team?"

Dahlia looks at him with silent judgement. "There's a hundred other things you could be worried about. That's really your concern?" The man nods twice. "What is wrong with you?"

"I think I've answered that already." Crimson smirks and looks away, leaning his head against the wall again in a sleazy manner.

Seeing that she isn't going to get an answer she wants to hear, she groans her exasperation and falls back down onto the bed, glaring needles at the ceiling. "I'll never get you."

"Maybe not. But least this time you don't gotta drag me around, right? No poison to spit out. Gotta count fer somethin'."

"I might as well drag you around since you still wanna be 'partners.'"

"If you insist."

Dahlia scoffs. "It wasn't an offer, dumbass. Walk by yourself."

Crimson holds back a snicker and holds up a palm. "Was just jokin'."

"A joke? Is anyone laughing?"

"I am."

"You don't count. Stop making jokes, the only one--"

"--allowed to make jokes is me." "Allowed to make jokes is you."

Dahlia's brows raise with incredulity as he finished the line along with her. She's surprised that he remembers that she ever told him that. "... Y-Yeah. And that's still true! So cut it out!"

Crimson closes his eyes with a smile. Dahlia watches him, growing more annoyed the longer she looks at him. His smug lips, his eyes shaded over by his black hair. His sleazy reclining, his naturally aloof air. Even though he looks different, he acts the same as he did when they first met.

She watches his smile slowly drop, leaving him to his resting expression. He stops moving save for paced breathing.

He fell asleep. Her lips become a horizontal line, a boiling frustration takes her heart. She has half a mind to just get up and punch him as hard as she can.

She eyes him silently for an uncounted time.

...

With a peeved grunt, she rises from bed and walks to the sleeping man.

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Moonlight's Room ~<
March 29th, Thursday, 9:39 ‎ ‎

‎

"Hahaha! Wow, that's great!" Magnifying exclaims in a near-shout. "I always knew you'd have a hoof in the final verdict!"

Moonlight, who sits across the lab table eating a salad which was brought to her by the stallion, nods with a mouthful. She swallows before speaking, "The human policies take affect this coming Friday, letters are being sent to all major cities tomorrow morning. I never thought I'd have a hoof in anything important. Much less amendments to the Doctrine."

"Please, Moonlight, give yourself credit! You're always putting yourself behind when you're ten steps ahead!"

"I don't want to boast."

"You're the last one anypony would consider a boaster! You give so much and take so little, the world should be paying you favors at every end! With everything you've done in the advancement of magic studies alone, I don't think there will ever walk another pony like you. ... You're special." Magnifying lifts a trepid smile. "Very special."

The musing unicorn sets down her fork, staring down at her food with little expression. "... Magnifying?"

The stallion straightens his back at hearing his name called by her suddenly. "Y-Yes, Moonlight?"

"Why do you like me?"

The stallion rocks his head back, bewildered at the question. "W-Wha... I... I couldn't answer that."

Moonlight continuously stares with half-lidded eyes right through her salad and into the void. "Why?"

"... Because, Moonlight. I don't like you. I love you. I love you like nothing else - so much so, that it almost hurts, heh," he grips his chest at his Scribe cloak to emphasize his emotion. "There's a million reasons I can give why. I'll happily list every single one... if you would like."

Moonlight lifts her gaze towards him, staring deadpan. "... Would you really do that?"

"Euuh, w-well... y-yes! I would! Would you a-actually like it if... I did?" Moonlight sets up a very weak, tilted smile, and nods. "Hehe~ Wuh-Well, where do I begin? F-For starters, I simply adore your intelligence. Your equations, methods, processes, the way you articulate your expansive knowledge bank so clearly -- oh goodness, don't even get me STARTED with your enchantment reversal proficiency! I also thoroughly enjoy your--"

Moonlight hears his compliments, his adore, his gushing indulgence...

... why doesn't she feel... 'it'?

His speech turns into background noise as he drones on endlessly. His mouth moves, and moves, and moves... and moves...

... and moves...

‎

‎

...

"After this, I'll make DAMN sure you get where you need to be. Whoever or whatever score you wanna settle, whatever vendetta you have against the Black Horseshoes. I'll be your guy. Hold me to that."

...

"I care about you. Heck, I'd go as far as to call you my friend."

His voice is soothing. A comfort. The right amount of youth ingrained with a scratch of maturity. A charismatic brogue.

They stand together at the edge of the pier in Los Ungulas, gazing up at the moon in silence. A cool breeze and the crashing of waves pushes their hair along the gust. Stars glitter in the sky, appearing as if dancing to an unsung melody.

Crimson looks over to his right, down at his companion Axel. The stallion still stares up at the moon, a small smile formed upon his lips.

At noticing being stared at, Axel returns the look. They exchange a slightly widened smile and return to looking at the moon.

"... Beautiful, right?" Axel suddenly comments.

The man takes a moment to listen to his voice, if only to internalize it one more time. "It is."

"What do you think is up there?"

Crimson purses his lips in thought, but gives up and returns his smile. "... Couldn't tell you."

Axel seems satisfied with that response, nodding an agreement.

The resting smile upon Crimson's face slowly loses its energy, until nothing but a frown remains. "... I'm sorry, Axel."

The stallion looks to the man with slight confusion, still holding his simper. "For what?"

"..." Crimson clenches his teeth, trying to steel his nerves. "... Just..."

"Sky." The man feels the urge not to look at him but does so anyway. The grin on his friend's face has yet to waver. "Keep your head up, man. No need to be sorry. Not for anything. ... Look," Axel points up to the sky, towards a specific shining light.

The man follows the point, noting an amber-orange gleam with a faint teal aura around it. The man stares at it in child-like wonder, admiring this uniquely acquitted star. "... Kinda reminds me of you."

"Heh, right? I remember looking up to it as a colt all the time. My favorite star."

"Like if it was meant just fer you."

"..."

"..."

Crimson clenches his teeth once more. The star pulsates and shifts ever so slightly, accentuated by the thin aura that surrounds its magnificence.

"Do me a favor?" Axel calls.

"Mm?" the man hums without looking away from the star.

"Look up every once in a while."

The man furrows his brows. He glances over at...

... nothing.

He stands alone at the edge of the pier. The winds suddenly feel heavier, the tides lapse and crash against each other. He faces forward, out to the deep dark horizon line that spans into infinity. He looks up again, right at the amber star that glitters even brighter than before.

...

The star becomes blurry, glimmering with more intensity. Until it all fades.

Face Value

~ The Slums, Moobs' Motel ~<
March 29th, Thursday, 11:33

‎

"... Mmh..."

The world fleshes out, the reversal of a vacuum. His eyelids tremble before cracking open. He blinks a few times at the discolored wooden ceiling, trying to recall when he fell asleep. He's lightly shocked when the harsh blinks cause tears to trickle down his face. He brings his left sleeve to wipe his eyes.

He draws in the thoughts of yesterday in so closely, he hardly realizes that he's laying on the bed. It strikes him soon enough. A quick glance around the room illustrates that it's still Dahlia's, with a few of her belongings still around despite lacking the mare herself. He also comes to realize that he's on the bed rather than the wall, giving a clear indication to him that he was relocated.

He halts any other thoughts to give her the spotlight. Even if there are too many uncertainties to truly be at peace, he knows for certain that he is glad to have found her again.

He kicks his feet off the side of the bed, which doesn't come far down. He tends to forget that everything is made too small for his likes, only due to becoming accustomed to it. Rubbing his face and letting out a sigh from his nose, he tries to stave off his depressive weariness. He stands up to his full height and arches his back, getting a pop from it. He scans the room again, finding nothing interesting.

He reaches into his outer left pocket and takes out the metal sphere. He pops it open and gets a fingerful of moss out, plopping it into his mouth fearlessly.

...

Bad idea. His nose scrunches and he throws his head to the left, the saltiness waging war against his taste buds. He lets his saliva break it apart for a few seconds before swallowing in one gulp. He grinds his tongue between his teeth in a futile attempt to shave the taste off.

Despite the unpleasant entry, it sits very comfortably. With the equivalent of a full breakfast inside his belly, he pockets the ball and steps out of the room. The hallway is just as dim and depressing as it is during the night, but small holes in the boards that cover the windows tell that the sun is out. Rays of dust float across the length of the hall, making them seem like security beams that'll alert Moobs of trespassers.

Speaking of Moobs, Crimson encounters him at the receptionist desk. The old camel stands like a statue, face and eyes more droopy than usual. The reason as to why isn't hard to come by. The man's orbs give a quick take of the room. Traces of last night are all but gone - cleaned up the way only a patient old camel could.

Having spent a second too long without saying anything, Crimson breaks the silence. "G'mornin'," he greets, assuming it's still morning.

The old camel doesn't look over, but a slight simper forms on his saggy cheeks. "Afternoon. Didn't sleep too well, reckon?"

"Rough night. Made up for it just now." Moobs simply nods with that same tiny smile. The air between them is tense and heavy. Crimson lines his lips and kicks one foot up for an indecisive step. He takes another step in the same fashion before deciding he'd rather sit down on the single-seater.

"... Miracle you wouldn't have my head, young'n? Figured you would."

Looks like he was thinking about it too. Crimson shakes his head slowly, "Save it fer now, ol' timer. Wanted to ask a few things."

"Ripe to respond."

"... What was that thing you called her?"

His smile widens a bit more. "'Lil Flower?"

"Yeah. Reckon you 'n her are close."

He nods with closed eyes, then resumes blankly staring forward. "As much as she'll tell, which is plenny fer me. Known 'er since she was new to the bid'ness. Like a daughter of my own."

Crimson hums an acknowledgement, letting his gaze fall to the base of the receptionist desk. "Cleaned up the place real nice. ... Last night... saw you out back. Axel, uh... he..."

"Don't worry 'bout 'em, young'n. He's asleep."

The pit in the man's gut only deepens.

"... Feel guilty?"

The man nods once.

Moobs sighs, finally letting his stagnant eyes move. They come to the ground, his unfazed front visibly takes melancholy. "Me too. Tried bracin' myself fer it, but... hurtin' me more'n I could'a ever believed."

"... Yeah."

The camel nods to the simple word of the man, barring an afflicted smile. "It's only fair I'd let you in the loop, partakin' in the disaster 'n all. Care to entertain an older sort?"

"I wouldn't mind."

The smile upon Moobs becomes slightly more genuine. "... See, six years ago... I met Dahlia, her first time in the Slums, lost 'n afraid. Got her hooves on a relic, she did. Somethin' to do with her bein' a mail carrier. Lookin' fer a place to pawn it. Like you, she happened to wander in ma' establishment tryin'a find her ways about. Took 'er a bit to trust me, but... she did. 'Ventually."

Crimson nods, letting the old timer know he's listening.

"Les' take a step back 'nother four years. Makes ten. Introduce ya' to mister Axel Flex, a pony that was five years into the Horseshoes. Small time grunt. Poor fool lost his house in Las Pegasus, caught cheatin' at the card tables. Wandered the Slums like a lost 'lil lamb, found my place by accident too. Got to know each other. Coincidences and such, m'I right?"

"Hold it, his house? Lost his house?"

"Ye'zir. He had to sell it to bail h'mself out. Mighty fine of twelve-thousand bits."

Crimson's brows wrinkle his forehead. "Twelve-thousand? Over a gambler's game?"

"Strict regulation, young'n. Gotta respect 'em. Y'enyways, poor fool got shamed in the Horseshoes fer makin' 'em look bad. Rep took a dive, needed'a make a name fer himself. Spent many'a night here, tellin' me about his strategy to get his name back in the ranks. Axel'd pass out right there on that couch," he points to the two-seater that Axel rested upon when Crimson first entered. "Troubled nights tryin'a get the perfect plan; goin' on fer hours 'bout his heart's content."

Crimson only now realizes that Moobs has a rather big smile on his face. The sight disheartens him, it's no smile of happiness.

"My best friend, he became. Family, even. Every time he needed somethin', he'd come here, even if I didn't have it. Just stop by 'n give the ol' geezer a 'hi' 'r 'hello.' Hrmh. Colt got himself into trouble more than once. Used this here motel to fade into the shade."

"Never bothered you that he'd be bad company?"

"Naw, naw," he swings his head left and right. "Foolish, but not evil. 'Spite what one may think, Axel's one'a the good ones. Heart'a gold. A humble folk. Never hurt the innocent. Not evil."

"A fool'd be more accurate. Cheatin' at a table certainly ain't sound."

"Hrh, now wait just a minute there, youngster, he--" Moobs starts rather defensively, but cuts himself off midway. Silence imbibes the air, leaving Crimson confused and Moobs guilty. After a pitiful moment, the camel sighs distantly. "... Shouldn't tell you this, personal detail I neglected to mention... but... reckon he can scold me 'n the afterlife. Be meetin' him soon, anyway, hyehea. Won't hurt you knowin' this now." Crimson sits up a little. "Reason he cheated on that there poker table, he was tryin'a take away some winnin's to pay fer his daughter's medicine 'n surgery."

The man's front hardens.

"Axel and his little one lived in a small chunk of land once called the Communities. Bunch'a little farmin' villages settlin' over in midland 'Questria, helped each other out. Happy lot from what Axel tol' me. They were prone to raids, but nothin' their local law 'n militia couldn't shoo away. Many generations, the Communities stood... that is, 'til the Wildmanes raided. Nothing could prepare the town fer what they had in store. Destroyed, killed, pilfered, raped, the full front and back. Axel managed to get himself out of there with his daughter, though, she wun't so lucky. Got shot with an arrow in 'er left hindleg durin' the escape, sad, but nothin' too serious at the time, wun't enough to kill her."

Crimson's eyes fall to the base of the receptionist desk in perturbed deliberation.

"Axel 'n the little one had to ditch the Communities. Axel's only family was on a hospital bed, Uncle. Some lung disease if I recall. He caught wind 'n let 'em move in. Uncle was ready to pay fer the little one's medical treatment, but he died before he could get any paperwork signed or bit sent out. Bunch'a legal poppycock stole Axel of any inheritance. 'Cept the house, since Axel managed to step hoof inside 'n find the deed 'fore it was probated. That was all Axel had left, the house 'n his wounded daughter. Wound got infected on the trip to the city. Axel did what he could, but couldn't get it treated. Las Pegasus's an expensive place, 'n jobs in the Horseshoes weren't payin' out enough, 'specially since the colt's rep was deathly. Few jobs, low pay. It was a rut. With no money to his name, he didn't have the resources to help his lil' one. Desperate fer an alternative, he was. Had a fair hoof fer poker, but winnin' a few small-time spits weren't gonna fetch the nine n' a half grand he needed."

"Almost ten-thousand? Fer medicine? Take out an arrow head 'n disinfect it? Kinda shit is that?"

"That, my friend, s'called monopolistic oppression. With few trained doctors 'round Equestria at that time, the ones that did come about charged a nut'n a half. Cannerlot, Las Pegasus, Whinneypeg, no matter what city. F'you weren't rich, you'd best never catch a cold. Wind up in a grave."

Realization strikes him. It wasn't any better back home. The situation with doctors, charlatans, and false tonics is just as bad, if not worse. He recalls having to spend a week's worth of saving for one bottle of medicine for Viola when she'd get sick, and travel ludicrously long distances to obtain it. "That's some shit."

Moobs only nods, staring blankly forward. "T's when Axel sat at the high roller's table. Bluffed his way to the end-game by keepin' two cards tucked behind his left ear. Fool put the rest of his money down that day, hopin' to win it back with a multiple of twenny. Pay off the house 'n get his daughter treated. ... Could say he ran through his luck. Some klutz of a waitress done slipped with a bottle'a wine 'n hit Axel on the back. Cards he tucked behind his ear got spilt. Rest is history. Sold his house to bail'm self out, took his dyin' daughter, 'n scattered from the city with high society spittin' on his name. No where to go, no money fer even a train. Wandered into the Slums with a dyin' hope. Met ol' Moobs by that there accident I told ya' about. ... Still remember. First room, here, where Axel used'ta sleep. Daughter's eyes - yellow, big 'n beautiful. Slowly turnin' grey as sepsis took 'er life."

Crimson fiddles his thumbs together morosely.

"Ain't a need to look sad, young'n. They're together again. Father'n daughter, together at last. Livin' it up in the afterlife."

The camel's thoughtful words give the musing man a very slight smile, but nothing more. "He told you all this?"

"Sure did. Spend many a night sharin' stories 'n countin' our demons."

"... What'd he do after steppin' through your door?"

"Loads'a things. Favors, r'quests, bounties, you name it. Anythin' to get his mind off of what he lost. After tryin' this and that, he found a nack fer treasure hunnin'. Someone smelled treasure, colt was on it. Temples, caves, coves, mines, 'bandoned buildin's, don't matter. Axel took the trophy. Got his rep back, he did. 'Black Horseshoe's renowned treasure hunner: Axel the Exhumer.' Held that title jealously. That sword he poked you with? Relic from an ancient pony tomb. Could cut wind."

Crimson squints slightly, starting to realize the correlation.

"Then came 'Lil Flower. Toldya' already she'd got her first relic four years after Axel's affair. Was the first and only relic she'd have fer some time. Never did tell me what was goin' on, 'r how she got it, just let me know she was a courier. She spent some time in that line'a work, but somethin' happened that made her switch out. Hasn't told me what, but ain't fer my ears to know, I reckon. 'Ventually, she became a treasure hunner too. And boy, lemme tell you somethin', young'n. Findin' priceless hunks of junk was like breathin' air. She was a natural for that kind'a stuff. Don't know how she does it to this day, but she brings home the long haul. At some point, Axel 'n Dahlia met each other 'ere in my abode. Good friends, they were, fer a number of years."

"They were friends?" the man questions astounded. "She told me they used to work together, but... friends."

"Ye'zir. Got along real well. Till, well..." the camel stops for a moment, pausing to consider his words deeply, "... let's jus' say a fallin' came about. Far from friends, then. They still kept their line of work, but took their separate ways. It 'ventually became The Black Horseshoe's prized treasure hunter versus the fabled freelancer. ... You c'n see where this's goin'... can't'cha?"

"... Axel made his reputation from being a treasure hunter, in came another to steal his limelight."

"Sharper'n steel, young'n, that's exactly right. Didn't take long fer 'Lil Flower to make waves in the Horseshoes. Didn't bother Axel much at first, but didn't like it neither. Wasn't until she started overtakin' his title, that's when that there metaphorical snowball was pushed downhill. Horseshoes started goin' to her rather than Axel, started hirin' her services instead of his. Top of that, the jobs Axel'd land, she'd end up catchin' wind of it and claim the prize under his nozzle. Sooner th'n later, Axel became a no one in the gang again, save fer the close ones he made along the way. Gloriosa, you already know. Close knit. Even after all that, our boy dropped from Equestria's face. Plottin'. Schemin'. ... Hopin'."

Crimson bites his lower lip in contemplation.

"He had his connections, but... weren't the same. Tragic seein' Axel get so heated 'n depressed. After spendin' years gettin' over what he went through, it was all fer nothin'. Weren't a thing I could do, neither."

"Both Dahlia 'n Axel made base here, right? Back when they were friends?" Moobs nods with a lifted left brow. "Then they hated each other's guts. How'd somethin' not happen earlier?"

"That's where ol' Moobs played his own cards just right," he smirks with a tinge of pride. "Made sure Axel 'n Dahlia never saw each other here. When one was around, made sure the other wouldn't be showin' up. Else, 'Moobs'd be out fer the night'... if ya' catch my drift. Woefully, this ol' camel's embers smoldered out... 's you can see."

"How long'd you keep those two away from each other?"

"Say 'bout three years."

"... Hard to say I trust you anymore, old timer."

With a snort, Moobs waves a cloven hoof, "Don't worry yerself, young'n. You can trust this ol' camel. Ain't got nothin' to hide no more. Neither do you. Angel-boy." The man's eyes pop, lifting his head in a snap towards the camel. "Hehyea, come now, mister Sky. Secret's safe with me."

"I'd fuckin' hope so," the man conveys cynically.

Moobs nods again, losing any semblance of happiness. "With what's happened 'ere, it'd only be right. To you, 'Lil Flower, 'n Axel all the same."

"All of this just rounds one big coincidence. Aimless wanderin' of three different folk put them in the same place."

"Right here with this saggy ol' bag'a bones."

"Suppose this is the part where you ask if I believe in destiny."

The camel chuckles lightly. "Not if you already do. Inevitable. Felt it'd happen sooner 'r later, I just... couldn't let my right mind win. Always knew Dahlia 'n Axel did bid-ness through Gloriosa. Meditated their meetin' through her. At some point, they came to me separately, told me they'd gank one-another 'n finally put a stop to this competition fer good. Hurt my heart, it did... hearin' how they'd rip each other's necks. Observed plans from both sides."

"You had money on a victor?"

"Did, actually. Thought it'd be 'Lil Flower that'd win. Not 'cuz she's stronger 'r a better fighter. Girl can't fight fer shit. Just mapped out 'er plan better. If she could'a gone through with it, Axel wouldn't had a chance in tartarus. Would'a been a death even he wouldn't see comin'. ... But, eh... guess you came into the picture 'n skewed it all. Rushed things, in a way."

Crimson rumbles in muse, shifting his eyes to the left at nothing. "But it don't make sense. Why'd you suggest me work with Axel if it'd tilt the scale?"

"Didn't expect you two to work as well as ya' did. Got along surprisin'ly well despite that terrible first impression. Pair'a killers, you were. Even scared me a spell. One week is all it took fer you two to make a wave 'round here. Might'a been the next talk of the Horseshoes... had... circumstances not came about. Yesterday night, seein' you two prop up to take out mah 'Lil Flower... she'd haven't a chance. Last thing that came to mind after the ball started rollin' with Axel's half-baked plot was... wehll... take you out. Get'chu outta the picture to make the tussle between them as fair as could be."

"Why'd you let this happen if they mattered to you so much?"

"I ain't let nothin' happen, young'n. It was gonna, no matter what these old bones did. Like you said, one big coincidence. These eyes seen too many of them fer somethin' to be done 'bout it. Fate, you might call it. Never could do somethin', don't assume I ain't tried. Love 'em so much, was like askin' to help mah son kill mah daughter, or the other way 'round. Can't ask a parent to do somethin' like that. Rather'thn stickin' my nose in, all I could do was... let it happen."

"If not you, someone else!" Crimson starts passionately. "Hard to think no one could'a prevented this. If you can't save Dahlia and Axel, you should'a reached out to someone who will. They're like yer children, right? Parents break up fights between siblings, and they bring that intervention when it's imperative."

Moobs smiles very slightly. "How old're you?"

"Age's got nothin' to do with it."

Moobs closes his eyes slowly. "Answer the question."

Crimson lines his brows at the top of his eyes. "Twenty-seven."

"... You've got a lot of life to live, young'n. From the words of a wheezin' geezer to the wise... fate ain't always so black 'n white. There won't always be a solution to a problem that don't require sacrifice. Remember this, mister Sky... what's better, to lose some, or lose it all?"

Crimson stops to ponder and does not counterargue. Moobs lets his face return to stagnation, gazing idly forward at the front door. The air quickly becomes cumbersome.

Even if he stays true to his belief, Crimson sighs and caves in for an apology. "Didn't mean to raise my voice at'cha, Moobs."

"Heh, better if you do, these ol' ears 'r hard of hearin'." Crimson finds himself chuckling along with Moobs, letting the air clear of its mud.

"... To me," the man starts after a quiet, "... I reckon Dahlia was the favorite."

Moobs shakes his head slowly. "Not the case, mister Sky, not the case."

"Feels like you warrant her life over Axel's."

"Lots of no's I could give ya', but... I understand why you'd think so. Simply put, gave a bit more love 'n care fer the little flower more'n I did Axel. Not 'cause she was a favorite, but 'cause she has no one else." Crimson lifts his brows slightly. "Axel's had a number'a ponies to lean on. He's had his lil' world put up with that there Gloriosa. If he wanted it, they'd give it to 'em. 'Lil Flower, she... well, she got no one but herself. You can say I used that truth to provide for 'er more than Axel."

Crimson nods in acknowledgement, only now letting that fact set in. She was truly alone, even when she found him desolate months ago. No one but herself in the neck of the woods. The man lifts his attention to the door behind the receptionist desk, and it lingers there for a moment.

"... Wanna go see 'im?" Moobs offers without looking over.

"... Yeah." Moobs nods, turning around to open the door. Crimson gets up, walks around the desk, follows him out.

They stop at the far end of this backyard square of dirt land, surrounded by wooden picket fence, where two wooden boards protrude from the ground as headstones. One grave is older and weathered, the other new and straight - a sturdy swordcase rested at the base of the marker. Ovular mounds of soft dirt cover the ones beneath, Ponish text engraves both boards.

Crimson gazes down at the graves. The old camel dons a sorrowing squint, the man pursed lips of guilt. "... What was her name?"

"Tella Flex."

Crimson feels a burn in his chest hearing the name which labels the tiny grave. Death is no stranger, but it hardly gets easier to deal with. The man steels his nerves to fight the sheen. "Funny thing, ain't it?" The old camel doesn't react to the starting, but he's obviously listening. "Thought Axel'd go 'round my back 'n kill me while I was asleep. Now we're here."

"Wasn't yer intention, young'n. I saw what you did. You were on no one's side. Don't bear the weight."

Crimson gives the camel his eyes for a moment, then back to the grave. A brief silence passes through the yard. He comes down to one knee, if only to speak a little closer to his comrade. "Evenin', partner. Quite a ride, huh? In one week, we got plenty done. Don't seem longer than a day." He gives himself a pause to close his eyes before continuing. "I pray I've got yer pardon. Some partner I turned out to be. If I was a better man, we would've... you could have made Tella proud." Crimson stops himself again, squinting at his boot. "I know I ain't worthy of sayin' her name. Just lettin' you know how I feel. I'm sure you would've aged to be a great person. You and yer daughter. If I'd'a know what I know now, things'd be different. I wish I could... have done somethin' fer you."

"After spendin' years gettin' over what he went through, it was all fer nothin'."

Maybe that's it. Maybe that's exactly it. Axel's face appears in his mind, mirroring his own. What if he isn't supposed to be here? What if his being in Equestria is wrong? Wrong in all the ways one could imagine? He isn't the savior of this land, he isn't the angel that will shine the light in the darkness. He's misplaced - a needle in a hay stack. He doesn't belong in this world.

Fool of the earth that's done nothin' to earn his happiness. I face death tryin'a make amends, but nothin' comes of it. Maybe nothin' will come of it. A forsaken soul without a sight of heaven. I can't even die right. And it'd be me that's gotten so lucky.

"... Young'n, you okay?" The rustic voice snaps Crimson out of his mental abyss. He throws sharp eyes at the old camel, realizing only now that a single stream runs down his cheek. Retaking reality, Crimson wipes the tear off his face and frowns at the ground. "Hmh... lemme rephrase that rather dumb question. Anythin' I can do fer ya'?"

Crimson holds still for a moment before muttering to himself. "... How'm I gonna break this to Gloriosa?"

"Leave that to me," the camel advises. "Axel taught me a few things, in the event som'm like this ever happened. I'll make right sure she knows what's happened. She deserves to know."

The man nods in acknowledgement, but nothing more.

"Take all the time you need. Gonna fetch lunch. Sum fer two?"

Crimson declines silently. The man rises to his feet and slogs back to the motel. Moobs holds his place, deciding he'd spend a little more time with the Flex family before taking his own leave.

Crimson moseys into the hall, proceeding to the last door and stepping inside. He kicks the door closed before he moves to the bed and spins around, letting himself plop back down. He reassumes the same position he was in when he woke up, hands to his sides, legs straight out. He glares at the ceiling for an uncounted time before his eyes close autonomously.

There would be nothing more he'd like than to escape reality. Even for a moment.

‎

‎ ‎

~ The Slums, Moobs' Motel ~<
March 29th, Thursday, 20:11

‎

Dahlia pushes the door to the motel in, eyes rested on the ground as she walks. It's fairly late at night, and strangely enough, Moobs is not present at the desk. She turns and proceeds down the hall off to her room, entering without bothering with her key. If her assumption is right...

She pushes the door in and finds herself correct. It's unlocked and the man is still laying on the bed. She's mildly impressed at how long he's been asleep, recalling his previous tendency to fail terribly at doing so.

"Want me to get off yer bed?" the man suddenly blurts, startling Dahlia.

She hardens her face. "Why are you still laying down if you're not sleeping?"

"That a yes?"

She rolls her eyes and continues to the side of the bed, setting her saddlebags down on it and sitting on the edge. She starts rummaging through it, the clinking of coins melds with a dinging of metal. She pulls something out, revealing it to be a ring of some sort.

The man peeks down at the object in her hold. It looks like a rusted old bracelet without much merit, but whatever it is, she scrutinizes it heavily.

"Here, hold this," Dahlia suddenly commands, holding out this bracelet to him. He reaches out to take it. He inspects it, observing that it once had a green-ish color with etching. It's too worn to be of note now. The mare reaches into her bags again and retrieves another bracelet, similar to the scuffed one from before, but it's pristine and flawless. It appears to have the same engravings and full lime color. She turns and scoots closer to Crimson, sitting next to his shoulder. "Now look at this," she holds out the new ring. She grabs the man's wrist and forces it over to her, the one that harbors the hand which holds the rusted ring. The two rings are held side by side.

"One's old, one's new," Crimson comments.

"Is that all you see?" Dahlia inquires.

"Pretty much."

"They're the same except for age?"

"What it looks like."

"So no difference besides age?"

"Yup."

Dahlia smiles in satisfaction, taking both of the rings back and stuffing them in her bags.

"Not the case, I reckon?" the man presses further.

"The clean one's a fake. Some heirloom I spent like two weeks replicating to look like the original. Got a referral from a connection of mine, client is some zebra who wants it refinished."

"You tellin' me you made that one?"

Dahlia nods with pride, "Yup, all me. There's a sweet metallurgy shop in Las Pegasus, I used it to make this bad boy. It got done cooling and hardening. Fetched it just now."

"Sounds mighty high-effort. Why not just restore it?"

"Because. I can sell the fake back to the zebra for a ton of money, and then sell the actual one to an appraiser and get more money. Zebra's too dumb to figure out it's a fake, and the egg-head's gonna fork over a bunch of bits. You'd be surprised how many weirdos get pleasure out of making old stuff look good again."

Crimson's brows raise and his lips pout, acknowledging her cunning. "Right, well... zebras, then. They find out it's a fake, what're you gonna do?"

"IF they ever do, which is, like, impossible, they'll be across Equus. The pack I'm dealing with are a migrant type, they're in Equestria to find a restorer and whatever else they need to do here. They'll be gone once they get what they want, probably keep going north to the yaks."

"Hm. Guess they can't hurt you from up there."

"Exactly. You wanna come with?"

Crimson finds himself pleasantly surprised at this offer. He hardly expected to get a genuine response to his inquiry, let alone ask to venture together. "This mean we're still a team?"

Dahlia glares at him seriously. She then looks away, still stern. A silence breezes through the both of them, both feel a deep bit of dissatisfaction from the hang. The mare lines her lips and looks away a bit further, giving him her right cheek. "... Sure, I guess. Just don't be annoying."

The man smiles slightly, admiring her side profile. She looks as worse for wear as she always has, just like when they first met. The only difference is the length of her mane, which is quite a bit longer than it was before. There is many a time he forgets he's in a world where ponies talk and have sapience. Seeing a denizen so close up serves to remind him.

He discerns that her void-gaze becomes contemplative. It prompts him to offer, "Happy to listen if you've got somethin' to say."

Dahlia remains still briefly. Her attention then shifts towards him, her front feels a tad judgmental. "I still can't believe you're here."

"I can say the same 'bout you. Never thought I'd run into you again. Bein' honest, I wanted to set aside some time to look fer you, even asked around to folks who might know where you'd be."

"It's a surprise hearing you say that. I thought you forgot all about me once you hit it off with royalty."

"That ain't the case at all," he affirms with a frown. "'F course I wanted to find you, you're my partner."

"..." Dahlia becomes contemplative again, keeping her magenta orbs away from his general direction.

Crimson respects her decision to end the trail there. He lets his head fall back onto the pillow, staring up at the weathered wooden ceiling. "... Two months, huh?"

"... Yup. Found you at the start of spring."

"I've been gone from home that long already."

"Thought you had some beef with the Horseshoes. Still looking for a way to get back?"

"Yeah, that's my second priority behind figurin' out the human plight."

"The what now?"

Crimson looks towards her, finding her already gazing back at him. "The situation with humans here. I understand they're not native 'n got quite a story to tell. Guess I'm puttin' it upon myself to figure it out."

"What good will that bring you? It's not really your business. It shouldn't be, anyway."

"Lots of things aren't, still won't stop me. Call it my conscious makin' me curious. Do one good thing in the world before takin' my leave."

Dahlia tails on his words, quietly staring at his brooding front. The mare really lets it sink in - his details, his hair, his clothes. He hardly resembles the man she first met keeled over in the Everfree. "... Sky, huh?"

"Yeah, 'Lil Flower."

His touché causes her to frown very quickly. "Don't give me that. Sky? Why Sky?"

"What's it to ya'?"

"Stop doing that or I'll put a roach on your face when you sleep."

"'When?'"

"Yeah, when. You passed out outta nowhere and I had to drag your heavy ass to the bed."

"Had to?"

"Gh-You--" she clenches her teeth, "stop avoiding the question!"

Crimson chuckles, still finding that tinge of enjoyment from picking on her. "Sky is my last name."

Dahlia's face shifts from strong annoyance to inquiry. "... That's your last name? Crimson Sky?" He nods, moving his hands behind his head and resting it on them. "Huh." She stops and ponders deeply at the information presented. "... Interesting. So the Consortium knows you by... Crimson. And Horseshoes caught word that a 'Sky' was up and coming... both are you. But they don't know that."

Crimson looks at her, smiling in approval.

"Not bad."

"Glad you think so."

"So all the helmets and egg-heads don't know you're here trying to infiltrate the Horseshoes?"

"They don't. 'N the Horseshoes think I'm back at Canterlot doin' whatever."

Dahlia puts it all together. "That makes this easier, then. We won't have one pulling on the other looking for you. Speaking of the Consortium, what did you even do over there?"

"What have you heard?"

"A good bit. Worked with the Guard, worked with the Robes. That Head Researcher you mentioned wasn't brought up though. I want in on that."

Dahlia is monitoring him intently, yearning for the divulging. "And I want in on more about you. Think we can trade?"

Dahlia flatulates with her lips. "As if! I don't need to tell you anything about me, it's not important. What you were doing IS."

"Hmh," Crimson gazes off towards nothing, mildly disappointed. "... I'll tell you more about what I went through after we finish this escapade, I guess."

Dahlia, surprised he didn't come up with something intelligent to say, lines her lips and nods. "Sure. It won't be hard, especially if you're there."

"Oddly nice of you to say."

"Yeah, well, the fact you aren't dead yet makes me a little more confident in you."

A lopsided, low-effort smile takes his lips. "Thanks."

"I'm serious. I thought you'd be dead in a week. Now you're..." she presents him with both hooves, "this. Whatever this is. You look straight out of the Black Horseshoes."

"I've been gettin' that a lot. Hopin' it rings true. They're my best bet at gettin' what I need. I don't expect you to help me out with that, you can set yerself aside if you'd like."

Dahlia contemplates briefly, tucking the corner of her lip. "... We'll see."

"Good enough fer me."

"You never gave an answer. You wanna come with or not?"

"Sure."

"Good. It's a pretty far walk out. I have water and stuff just in case."

"There anythin' I need to know 'bout?"

"Don't sweat the details, I've got it mapped out. All you need to do is make sure I don't get killed."

"Can do that. Where're we headed?"

"A few miles south to the desert. It's mostly a straight shot down from the Slums. We even--"

A pounding knock is suddenly heard at the front door, cutting Dahlia off. Both of them quiet down and focus their attention on the sounds coming from the receptionist room.

Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!

There it is again, the same harsh banging as before. Dahlia gets up and sneaks closer to the door, putting her ear to it and listening keenly.

She can hear Moob's heavy steps approach the front door, it seems that he's back from where ever he was. He opens the door for the company. The conversation is very muffled and incomprehensible, but the straightedge tone of the visitor gives away who may have come.

Crimson notices worry overtake her expression. He rises carefully and walks over to her side, pinning his ear to the door just as she does. The voice is immediately familiar.

"Mister Sky!" Moobs calls. He and Dahlia come off the door, exchanging a quick glance.

"What the hell!?" Dahlia utters quietly. "Moobs never gets visitors! Crimson, who is that? What do they want?"

"Just some business," Crimson retorts.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dahlia questions.

Neglecting her prod, he continues, "What time did you need to leave for that hike?"

"Don't ignore my question!" Crimson squints at her firmly. She scoffs and tips, "The zebras don't get here until tomorrow morning, so we've got time."

"Reckon I'll be back pretty soon. Won't have to worry about that."

"You're saying this like I'm not coming along."

Crimson stops, raising his left brow. "You sayin' you want to?"

"Well, yeah. I need to make sure you don't go do something stupid."

He takes some gratification in her unbidden honesty. "Might not be a good idea to take you."

"So you don't want to take me even after I offered to bring you to one of my stakes?"

"It ain't that, just--"

"Mister Sky!" Moobs repeats himself with the same exact shout as before.

Crimson purses his lips and mulls briskly. "Stay here."

She feels offended at being commanded so sternly but he gives little time for her to complain. He opens the door and steps out with a swift pace. He enters the receptionist area to see Moobs and Zeek, the bouncer that is usually posted at the front of the Gloriosa. Attention is shot to him as soon as he makes his appearance.

Crimson and Zeek share a nod of solicitation. "Good to see you again," the zebra formally greets.

"Likewise. Moobs get her the news?"

"He did," Zeek acknowledges. "Tragic fucking thing, isn't it?" Both Crimson and Moobs nod collectively. "... She wants to see you, Sky. Now."

"Best not keep her waitin'," the man acknowledges. He feels the urge to just walk out without mention of bringing a certain pony along, but the repeated panging energy of a heavy gaze garners his attention.

The old-timer is eyeing him intently, putting up a tired smile. "... Take 'Lil Flower. Would'ja?" The camel's demeanor subtly signals something much deeper than his simple request implies.

It's as if fate spoke into Crimson's ear. He senses that he has no real reason to neglect taking her now. He looks towards the hall, where a magenta eye can be seen peeking out from the edge of the doorframe. He lifts his hand to beckon her with the repeated bringing in of his fingers. She comes out and makes haste towards him, cautious of the zebra that guides them. The trio make their exit from the motel and venture to the club.

Dahlia carries confusion in seeing the Gloriosa's primary bouncer here, but even more taken by the fact he's requesting for Crimson directly. Zeek saw her, avowed her presence, but said or did nothing, as if she was naught of importance. No one seems to be questioning each other, no one looks to be accusing her. She takes this fact and follows behind the man quietly, looking up at Crimson's back.

‎

~~~<

‎

The painful silence of walking through the Slums is replaced by the never-ending pounding of electronic music. The fruity air of the Gloriosa overtakes the environment, and Dahlia can't feel more tense. She's weary of the fact she was allowed entrance so easily, being guided by Crimson and Zeek. Their escort is a spectacle to the goers of the club, many eyes follow their steps.

The ropes that protect the staircase to Gloriosa are lifted by the posted zebras, and the final stretch to grace the mare herself is taken. The blaring music is muted as they reach the top, the walk across the VIP section is strut in silence.

Upon witnessing Crimson's approach, the unicorns guarding each corner of Gloriosa's veil all bow their heads. One of them wastes no time in using her dark purple magic to lift the veil, giving audience to the charming mare who sits upright in her couch with a cold contemplation.

Zeek excuses himself, leaving only Crimson and Dahlia at her presence. The veil falls back down behind them, further isolating them together. The man is the first to take a step towards her, letting her passive colored lights above shine on him directly.

Gloriosa's serious front gives way to a slightly warmer tone at seeing him, giving a waned simper. It's very obvious that this beautiful being had been crying recently, marked by her pinked cheeks, muzzle, and the faintly stained eye shadow.

"Sky," she takes in a deep breath, holding it for a second, and letting it go, "thank you for coming. I know this was... very sudden." The man nods once solemnly. She notices the figure standing behind him, reminiscent of the way Crimson did when he first arrived. "... Is that you, Wisp?" Dahlia puckers her lips. "Please, come forward."

Dahlia reluctantly takes one step forward, but stops. Crimson looks back to her, staring at her from behind the shade of his hair. He tilts his head, signaling her to come closer. She adheres hesitantly, moving to stand directly at his side.

A moment of silence passes before Gloriosa speaks up again, "He's gone, isn't he?"

Crimson bows his head somberly. "... He is. It happened... quick. He was ghost at his last word."

Gloriosa looks away briefly, resisting the urge to fall into her emotions again. "... Out of everything..." She clenches her teeth before releasing another breath, "He survived through impossible odds. He lived through the unimaginable... only to die at the hooves of that... camel."

Both Dahlia and Crimson actively stop themselves from reeling.

"... An accident?" Gloriosa huffs, trading her quivering sadness to smiling incredulity. "I don't believe it."

Crimson's mind puts the pieces together as soon as they fall. He shoves his hands in his duster pockets and lets his gaze drop to the ground. "... It was. If it weren't fer Axel, I'd be the one buried. Got me outta the way so he could take the hit." Dahlia looks up at him with a bland expression, but internally aghast at his false admission.

"... Moobs," Gloriosa suddenly comments, eyes stargazing into the void. "That is his name, correct? Axel's murderer?"

"... It is," Crimson affirms. "He's good folk. It's a shame any'a this's happened. I'm... very sorry, Gloriosa."

She nods slowly, glazing her eyes just as steadily towards him. Her beautiful front places a mourning smile. "Please, Sky... call me Mary. There's no need to apologize. I know he was your friend as well." Her beam becomes just a bit more genuine. "You two got along so well, it made me worried he'd forget me."

"That's the last thing he'd ever do. Everything we did together was fer you - danger, bloodshed 'n all."

She soaks in his words momentarily, then shifting her focus to the figure who's been silent the entire time. "... It's been some time since we've seen each other, hasn't it, Wisp?" Dahlia tense slightly and nods quickly. "I’m very glad to see you here, especially with… our current circumstances. You and Axel worked together once. Are you here to pay your respects?"

"... Ye... Yeah. ... I didn't think it would happen like this."

Gloriosa closes her eyes with a melancholic smile. "The future is always murky. Nopony knows what'll happen next. Like your visit, Wisp. The timing is almost perfect. How do you know Sky?”

“Through Moobs,” she responds firmly. “We all worked together before… the accident.”

Gloriosa nods twice slowly in thought. “… Are you willing to take Axel’s mantle, Wisp? I’m in need of a treasure hunter with prowess. No veils: this will be difficult. But it will give us the graces of the Horseshoes again, and give us the appropriate connections.”

Dahlia passes a few seconds in mute rumination before she nods firmly.

“... Good. Before I set you two off, I have one last request. And, Sky, my love. Your reward for completing this will pay out everything you've done for me, and something more. Something that you can carry along with you in your quest to... take on the Horseshoes?"

Crimson appears briefly stunned by her remark. "Reckon Axel told you?"

"He did, he told me more than you'd think. And I can see why he liked you so much. You have a passionate fire in you that won't burn out until the job is done, something rarely inside anypony these days. Plus..." she looks away, her expression retaking that bored, uninterested front that suits her chillingly, "they've treated me and my subordinates less than acceptably these last few years. I think it's high time the chairs spun... if you catch my drift~"

Crimson gives a fortified nod. "Then we're on the same team. Glad to hear it. Now, what's this last task you've got fer me?"

Gloriosa blinks her luscious lashes and grins slyly.

‎

~~~<

‎

"No! You're not!" Dahlia shouts for the nth time.

"Watch me," Crimson replies simply.

"NO! You're not!" she repeats with heightened aggression.

"I'm done repeatin' myself."

"FOR THE LAST TIME! I SAID NO!" Dahlia props herself up in front of Crimson, stopping him from ascending the staircase to the motel. She growls fiercely at him, almost ready to bite him if he takes another step.

"You ain't gotta be here for this."

"It's not whether I'm around or not! You're NOT gonna kill him! END of STORY!"

The door of the motel suddenly comes open, drawing the attention of both Crimson and Dahlia in the heat of their altercation. Moobs stands at the frame, glazing them both with his long, droopy expression. "... Come in here, you two," he beckons them.

Crimson treks around Dahlia ardently, while the mare still stands mouth ajar. She rightens herself quickly when the man passes her, trotting to his side with anger.

The three now stand inside the motel, gathered around the receptionist desk where Moobs is positioned behind. The silence is palpable, ingestible; no one speaks. Dahlia is tense, Moobs is somber, and Crimson is grave.

"... Heard yer debacle, there," Moobs breaks the silence.

"Then you know what's goin' on," Crimson states.

"And he's NOT going through with it!" Dahlia shouts, causing both others to wince.

"... 'Lil' Flower," Moobs starts. "I know what yer thinkin'. Trust me, I do."

"I don't wanna hear it, gramps," Dahlia starts, becoming quickly emotional. "He's not gonna hurt a hair on your head. Not one."

Moobs lets his head hang slightly, ushering a semblance of laughter. "Always loved yer heart, young'n. Fierce. Gorgeous." He tilts his head to the side, waving them over once again. "Somethin' 'na show the both'a ya'."

He turns and opens the door to the backyard, stepping out. The two are quick to follow him out.

What they see brings a dawn of astonishment to the both of them. Moobs stops his walk at the far end of the yard, next to the graveyard of the Flex family. What causes their duress isn't these graves, but instead a deeply dug hole just next to Axel's - a sizable plot fit for a large animal to die in.

Moobs smiles at them, his dragging face baring some height. "Fate has stated her due. Reckon it's time to adhere."

Dahlia's hanging mouth and dilated pupils tremble. Her left foreleg lifts a little, then reaches to him. "M-Moobs, wha... what are you doing?"

The camel's beam lifts just a bit higher. "What needs to be." He looks at Crimson, who slowly approaches with desolation. The man was ready to accomplish what was instructed, but this is painful to take in. He stops a few feet away from Moobs, right at the edge of the grave hole. Dahlia stays put in the background, still watching in appalment.

The two eye each other, the camel comfortable and smiling, the man bearing a deep frown. "... You knew she'd ask me?" Crimson questions.

"Can say that," he responds plainly.

"Moobs, stop!" Dahlia cries suddenly, only now dashing up to stand next to Crimson. "Stop this right now! If this is a joke, it's not funny!"

Moobs shakes his head slowly, smiling down at the mare he considers his daughter with profound sadness. "Outta everyone, I'd thought you'd understand, 'Lil Flower. When a fire burns, it catches whatever it can. Don't matter who started it, it'll swallow all. Figure I got caught in the flames, 'n well..." he chuckles twice heartily, "... I'll burn just like anythin' else. Was only a matter'a time before it reached me."

"Moobs, you don't have to do this! You can just--"

The camel lifts his wobbly hoof, silencing her passively. "... 'Lil Flower... thank you fer makin' the latter years of ma' life just as enjoyable as my first. I owe it to you 'n Axel fer that grace. I can rest easy knowin' yer in good care."

"... Moobs..." Dahlia utters. Her shimmering eyes well, her lower lip quivers at trying to articulate further.

The old camel looks at Crimson with his unwavering smile. "... An' now, you have my blessin', young'n. Any way you see fit, long as this body's rested in its bed. Do as you may."

Crimson lets his gaze fall to the ground. In his peripheral, he sees Dahlia trembling. He concentrates on her, which causes her to look back up to him. His heartache only gets worse at making eye contact with her.

"Wanna go inside, 'Lil Flower?" Moobs speaks up. "Don't gotta be here fer this."

Dahlia doesn't voice herself. She closes her eyes tightly. She grits her teeth and shakes her head repeatedly.

"... Then," Moobs starts, "... Mister Sky?"

The man returns his attention to his target. He tries to think of him as just that - a target. One that he feels no remorse towards. He opens his right duster flap and reaches into his pocket, retrieving a weapon from inside - the dart-flinger. He takes it into his hand and he aims the end of the barrel towards the camel. His thumb flips the switch on the side from down to up.

Moobs stares at the weapon with satisfaction.

"... It'll be quick," Crimson states.

"Yer consideration is appreciated," the camel replies.

Dahlia opens her eyes slightly - Moobs stands perfectly still.

Crimson's finger rests on the trigger, gently applying pressure. He stalks his target. A body of no importance. A number added to a stock of many. He feels nothing towards this kill.

Blatantly untrue.

Pwf!

"Rh! Mmh!" Moobs recoils slightly at the tinge of pain panging his neck. Dahlia 'eeps' very quietly, her entire being taking shock as if she were the one hit. "... Ouh, uuh... huh..." Moobs' legs quiver intensely as his eyes struggle to stay open. He intentionally relieves some tension from his left foreleg and hindleg. "... Huh..." One last faint huff, his left side gives way and his entire body comes crashing down, slipping into the hole and falling down several feet. He hits the bottom with a thud.

Dahlia clenches her teeth and runs back into the motel.

Crimson's frozen figure still holds the pistol at the angle of the shot. He stands there a moment, eyes jaded, staring off into the ether.

His arm goes limp, falling to his side while still holding the gun. As if his body engaged autopilot, he opens his duster to pocket the weapon. He finds the shovel resting on the right end of the yard upon the fence. He toils towards it, taking it into both hands, and returning to the large pile of dirt that sat next to the hole. He begins to shovel.

Misery rains upon the motel, the one that is left abandoned the same night.

Dupe Exchange

~ Equestria, the San Palomino Desert ~<
March 30th, Friday, 00:27

‎

A full moon lathers its beautiful glow across Equestria's midnight. A dance of clouds surround it, yet allow a precise window to peek through and face the land.

All is quiet in the Slums, save the closing of the motel's dusty wooden door. Dahlia and Crimson come down the steps and onto the sand - the mare dons her saddlebags and a profound scowl. The man houses concern at her stoic front, the one that didn't shed even a single tear for her friend.

The man stays behind her a few steps. Both have nothing to say, but their goal is certain and understood.

They make a quick and steady pace out of the Slums and towards the deserts of south Equestria. Ruined buildings and faded cobble roads turn to expanses of dunes and sand soon enough. Still, nothing is said.

The cool air of the nighttime desert is rather refreshing; the point of the year they're in and the desert's geography allows this biome to be comfortable rather than freezing or scorching.

Crimson minds mild annoyance at his boots sinking into the sand at each step. He occasionally glances at Dahlia, wondering how she's so effortlessly able to wade through the ever-changing slopes and altitudes of the terrain. Her hooves work nothing less of a miracle to keep her so composed and balanced.

At about three miles in, Dahlia slows her steady trek and reaches for her saddlebags, obtaining a flask of water and uncapping it with her teeth. She takes two unfiltered swigs then sighs, feeling her body shiver lightly at the refreshment.

Without looking back, holding a grimace on her face, she offers the flask out blindly to Crimson.

He feels a little better about the energy between them when she does, finding solace that she still cares for him to some degree.

"Thank you," he calls formally, to which she doesn’t reply. He takes the flask and brings it up to his lips. The water is cool and it comes in smoothly. He too feels the tingle of a chilled beverage coming down after a length of physical activity, enhanced by the already fresh air around him. He hands the flask to Dahlia, who distantly takes it back with her wing and pockets it into her left saddlebag.

He takes in a deep breath and lets it out steadily. Only now, strolling through the expanse of Equestria's southern desert in the dead of night, does he really take the time to appreciate being out of the smog. He doesn't think he'll be back there soon for any reason, except for offered transportation. The motel has nothing left for neither him nor his companion, and everything Gloriosa promised to him is located outside of the Slums. In many ways, he's glad he doesn't have a reason to return, yet... it feels incomplete.

An easy breeze keeps them company as they walk, the only sound to break the unencumbered quietness. Oddly enough he doesn't feel off-put or awkward between their shared silence. He strides behind her without worry.

He mostly keeps his eyes forward at the ever-changing horizon line. Nothing comes into view for a time. Occasionally littered vegetation or animal howls vary the farther they travel, but it's finally into the fourth hour that something appears in the distance. Some sort of small town-city that has a few buildings. Lights begin to shine into the atmosphere after they cross the invisible threshold.

"What's this place called?" Crimson suddenly inquires, his deep drawl breaking the silence in a slightly uncomfortable way. A part of him doesn't expect a response.

"Maracas," she says in an unrefined accent. It almost makes Crimson snicker, though he doesn't since he appreciates her actually responding.

"Hm. Don't look too big. Trade route?"

"Yeah. It's also a rest zone. See those tall buildings?"

"I do."

"All of them are hotels. The place isn't lacking sleeping space, which is where the city gets most of its money. I have a room there. We'll stay there while we wait for the trade."

"Right. Any more business than just the zebras?"

"... Mmmmaybe. It's all kinda going as it's coming, but nothing concrete for now. But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You heard what Gloriosa said. What's the plan?"

“Rackin’ it right now. We still got a few days before that swap. I’ll get back to you on that after we finish this hike.”

Dahlia shrugs at his lackluster response. “You better. There’s a lot to unpack. Good thing I have this for us in the mean time, we’ll get a monetary head start!”

“Good to know yer thinkin’ ahead.”

“Waaay ahead. I have a few more of these planned if we get the time.”

“If this goes swimmin’ly, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Then get ready for more, 'cause this’ll be easy as cake.” A thought visibly strikes the mare, giving her an air of curiosity. Just the sight of this, her usual curious air, makes Crimson feel marginally better about what happened only hours ago. Though, the pain is still obviously burrowed deep in her eyes. He tries to ignore this, prepping himself for her incoming question. “You planning on talking when we get to the hurdle? Or you gonna play it ‘dumb?’”

"What do you suppose is best?"

She looks back at him questioningly. "Shouldn't you know?"

He furrows his brows at her return. "On what accord?"

"Because you know what you've been through - I haven't? Duh. I'd weigh our options, but I don't even know what they are. What do you think works better here?"

He ponders her words for a matter of seconds, lining his lips. "... Let's try no talkin'. Don't think anyone outside Gloriosa's hold knows I can. Word's pretty tight there."

"What about Majesty's? Wasn't that a whole thing?"

"Shouldn't surprise me you know about that, but it does. How'd you find out?"

"Literally everypony in Equestria knows. I couldn’t walk down the street without hearing somepony screaming about it. It was pretty insane. The entire building blew up last night."

"Yeah, it did. No one inside the building survived and most of the exterior force got snuffed. I'd be ripe to assume the dead can't make a report on my speech."

"Any outside witnesses?"

"None. Didn't step outta the property save to jump off the city. No bodies out back in the gardens neither."

"Well, if you think all bases are covered then that could be an option. Maybe separating Crimson as far from Sky as possible is a smarter move."

"Agreed. Less complicated, don't ya' think?"

Dahlia mulls the idea around for a moment before speaking up again, "Yeah. A break from your dumb voice is a plus."

"Glad we share the sentiment. I already got a collar on too."

"That may be true, but you know what's even better? It's not needed anymore."

Crimson comes to a brief halt, causing her to pause as well. "... Serious?"

"Dead. We could have played pony master without embarrassing you, but you have an unbreakable collar on anyway. Lucky you right?"

"Super lucky. What changed?"

"Amendment to the Doctrine got passed a few days ago. Humans are now officially allowed in public spaces and can't be screwed with by badges. Which means...!"

"... No re-run of Canterlot."

"Bingo! We're free to go where we please as long as you aren't being stupid. We'll definitely be using this to our advantage pretty soon. For now, let's get this trade done."

The man nods, prompting them to both continue walking.

‎

~~~<

‎ ‎

The duo finally enter the city through a tall border - wooden poles, carved to spikes, surround it, making the inside look compacted. In this city, Crimson witnesses all sorts of animals roaming about, many of them he's familiar with already. Gryphons, zebras, camels, ponies, and some that he's never seen before.

Creatures of all black with fangs, large pastel eyes that have a gloomy hue to them. There's very few, rarely sprinkled between the already sparse crowd. Even with all of these different races and creatures, there isn't a single human about except for him. They mostly seem entertained by whatever deals they’re trying to strike with one another in the middle of the night, but to his grievance, some still stare at him like the foreigner he is.

Dahlia keeps a calm front and continues leading him towards one of the taller buildings that calls itself a 'hotel,' with no name to label it. It looks much, much less impressive than anything in the major cities, and having only recently been in the luxurious suite Axel owned, the comparison is jarring.

The building is entered from the front through swinging saloon doors, and the very first floor is just that: a saloon.

The energy around them becomes quickly barbaric and uncomposed. Lots of swearing, drinking, banter, and general roughhousing brims the air with testosterone.

“Wait here,” Dahlia nudges Crimson’s leg with her rump, making him pause next to the swinging doors. She walks further in, melding in with the boisterous noise. Crimson tracks her movements, seeing that she approaches the bar at the farthest end. She calls for the stallion’s attention, he turns, and he gives her a wide smile with the throwing up of two arms. They exchange a few words before the barkeep reaches under the bar and takes something out, passing it to Dahlia. She nods gratefully and gives a last few words before turning back around.

She comes back to Crimson and takes a hard left towards a staircase that leads up to a second floor. The man follows suit before they're largely noticed by any of the tenants.

Ascending up the staircase puts them along a balcony that overwatches the first floor. They continue along this L-shaped walkway until they hit the far wall, which has three rustic elevators. Just by the button panels and elevator doors, it hardly looks like they'll work. But, at the press of Dahlia's hoof, the mechanisms spring to life.

This machine-work is completely graceless, especially compared to the marvel that is the Research Tower's. From what he hears, actual gears, oil, and cogs are toiling to move the heavy metal box behind the iron doors, rather than magic. It's not obnoxiously loud but has a boom to it.

Their boarding arrives at a reasonable time, possibly only a few floors up, and they both step in. Dahlia is quick to hit another button around the middle of the selection. They rise to their designated zone.

The elevator does little to announce their arrival, only the rumble of the mechanisms dying. The doors come open to present a hallway that spans left, right, and forward. The mare walks straight, guiding them both down the hall.

She stops at a wooden door with little uniqueness. Reaching into her saddlebag for a wavy metal key, she takes it and unlocks the door. Both enter, with Crimson to close it behind them.

Crimson is astonished to see the inside, this room is a spacious studio with everything compacted into a roughly twelve-hundred square-foot space - all lit by an amber bulb in the very middle of the ceiling. What he takes to impression is the balcony on the far end, one accessed by sliding glass doors. It looks wide and has a few reclining lawn chairs that look off towards the north.

Dahlia turns off the light, leaving the room lit by gentle moonlight. She moves towards the bed, setting down her bags and herself onto it. She takes her tail and begins to stroke the sand and locks out of it.

Crimson takes a quick look around the dark room. Two queen beds on the left, a three-cushion couch next to the doors of the balcony, an island sat by four chairs with plethora of newspapers and magazines on it to the right, a small grey spark powder fridge, and a very primitive stove next to a stone counter-top. It works well enough, he thinks.

"The sun's coming up soon,” Dahlia starts. “We have about six hours before the trade group gets here. If you wanna catch some shut eye, do it now."

"Think you might need the rest more than I do."

"Worry about yourself."

He passes a lackluster blink, dropping the effort to retort. He continues taking in the rest of the room.

"The room comes with drinks and stuff. Whatever is in that fridge is ours. They'll refill it every noon."

“Quite the investment."

"Hardly. I’m not sinking nearly as much money as you think into this room. The best part is that it’s reserved for me. We can come back to it if we're in the area."

"Some sort'a special premium yer payin' for?"

She shakes her head and lets go of her tail, putting her hooves at her hips proudly. "Nah, I know a few faces. They like me around here."

"If only you were this popular with the Guard." Dahlia slouches and gawks at him boredly. He strides towards the sliding doors and takes the handle with his fingertips, softly prying it open. A gust of cool wind hits his face, invading the warm room behind. With a meditated inhale through his nose, he steps out.

"Leave the door open, would ya'?" the mare calls from behind him.

He does as she asks and leaves it as is. His boots click quietly on the cement balcony before he finds a seat on the left-most lawn chair. He sits down and kicks his feet up, and to his pleasant surprise, it fits him almost perfect. His feet hang off just after the heel, but it's great otherwise. He smiles slightly at his subconscious being satisfied and relaxes, crossing his fingers over his stomach.

He looks out to the expanse that is Equestria, having a great view from his fairly high vantage point. He will never lose reverence for seeing Canterlot at such a far distance, a royal beacon of lights and majesty, propped up upon its rocky throne.

Other familiar sights can be perceived as well. He can make out Las Pegasus, Los Ungulas, Dodge Junction, Cloudsdale, the Everfree, the far snowy mountains of Yakyakistan, and other scattered points of interest he hasn't been to. It's a gorgeous sight, especially under the easy glow of the night.

"How can a place this beautiful be filled with so much hell? ... Like a god damn fairy tale nightmare." He shakes his head slowly, his hair rubbing the backrest of the seat. "... Reckon that's what it is."

“The heck?”

He hears the mare call from inside, garnering his attention. He sits up and cranes his neck, looking past the glass to see her rise from the bed.

Dahlia trots to the door and picks something up from the ground with her wing, appearing to be a rolled up parchment that was slipped through the bottom of the door. She quickly unravels it and holds it up to her face. Her eyes skim left and right quickly. “… You’re joking.”

The man spins on his rear to kick his legs off the side of the chair and stand up. He walks to the sliding door and leans on the frame. “What’s it say?”

The mare sighs in agitation. “The zebras got caught in a sandstorm and have to wait it out. They’ll be here a day late.”

“Hm,” the man bites the corner of his lip.

“Uugh, that’s so annoying. I really don’t wanna wait here for a day doing nothing.”

“Who said we have to? Don’t you got some other rounds stacked up?”

Dahlia brightens in realization. “Oh right! Yeah! I had planned to get some stuff done the day after, but I guess we can get tackle it tomorrow. We might surprise my buyers showing up a day early, but it shouldn't be a big deal. Yeah," she nods with a smile, "good thinking, Crim. We can get that done tomorrow while we wait for the zebras.”

“Anythin’ I should know?”

“Nah, they’re your run-of-the-mill show and swaps. Just look as intimidating as possible.”

“Right.”

“Rest up, we’ll leave bright and early since we’re hitting two different towns. If I know those two buyers, they’ll be available by noon. We should be able to get everything done by twelve and get back here with some time to unwind.”

He nods and salutes with two fingers, signaling his departure. He would wish her a restful night, but he doesn’t want a do-over of a few minutes ago. As Dahlia returns to the bed, he turns and sits back down on the lawn chair, kicking his feet up and prepping to relax himself until sunrise. He locks his fingers behind his head and sighs through his nose, letting his eyes fall shut.

‎

~~~<

‎

Once the sun kisses Crimson’s skin, his exhausted eyes pry open in time to admire the sunrise. He admires it for a second, letting his eyes adjust to being open. He gets up and stretches his body out, getting a few nice pops from his trunk.

He catches glimpse of Dahlia doing the same. She crawls off the bed and bends herself over, putting her chin close to the ground while lifting her flank to pop her back. There’s something about that pose, that specific movement, it looks so damn satisfying to pull off that it makes Crimson just a tad jealous.

The mare exhales deeply and stands up straight again, immediately rolling her eyes. “You’re really are just a stallion at heart, huh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a pervert just like them.”

“If you think I’m knockin’ my rocks by lookin’ at you, you’re boastin’ yerself too hard.”

Dahlia spits and scoffs, “Pffhoh, yeah, sure. That’s exactly why your eyes nearly fell out of your head, creep.”

Crimson leers and crosses his arms. “Alright, fine, you got me. Got caught red-handed starin’ at yer fine, curvaceous body. I would say it won’t happen again, but I’d be lyin’—”

“Okay, I get it, for the love of everything sane, please fucking stop.”

“At yer command.”

“Get serious, we’re heading out. Get my bags.”

Crimson does as she says, walking towards the end of the bed he’s closest to and retrieving the green saddlebags from the ground. He holds them from the back strap with his index finger and walks up to Dahlia, handing them to her directly. She takes them with her wing, he feels her feathers brush up against him very peculiarly.

She gets them over her back and humps her rear to set them properly. She heads for the door, tilting her head for Crimson to follow.

‎

~~~<

‎

A steady pace out of Maracas' south exit puts them on a cobblestone trail that connects to neighboring towns. They stay on the path until it forks into three directions, where Dahlia guides them to the farthest-right path heading west. The distant visage of the town in question is quickly seen and a roughly thirty-minute walk puts them on the outskirts.

As they come in for the approach, Dahlia briefly mentions to Crimson that this city is named Nole, a city very similar to Maracas in terms of building materials used and border structure, but the placement of everything inside is unique to itself. The populous proves to be of the same crowd, mostly made up for griffons and ponies, but a decent amount of camels, zebras, and the occasional human too. Everyone is dressed in proper attire for the desert, mostly rags that aid in keeping sand and dust away.

Dahlia leads the man through the town, finding it quite a bit bigger than Maracas. They navigate through the outskirts made of residences, leading into a busy central that quarters many shopkeepers and stand owners calling and pedaling their produce or wears. Some even try to stand in Dahlia's way to advertise their products to her, which she easily and rudely blows them off without regard.

Exiting the center, their surroundings turn from shops to multi-floored townhouses and apartments. The streets they follow are deviated from when the tan mare directs them into one of many alleyways shrouded away from the sun's gaze. They slink through this unbeaten path until Dahlia finds a lop-sided wooden door at the backside of an unassuming duplex. She looks around, ensuring no one watches them from any of the broken windows or building corners, then knocks on the door. She steps back, her tail going in between Crimson's legs.

The door is hesitantly answered by a lime green eyeball peeking through a peephole. Once it spots the duo, it disappears for a moment. The door comes open with a dull creak. On the other side, two griffons stand, both older-looking with a bounty of scars on their faces. Their bodies are hidden behind cloaks that match their tan and yellow feather patterns. They glare at Dahlia first before setting their eyes on the human behind her. Their faces remain cold and unreadable.

The griffon who peeked through the door speaks up first. "You're here quick. Thought it was t'marra."

"Consider it express delivery," Dahlia retorts.

"Never seen you with a human before," he throws his beak at the man. "He yours?"

"Don't worry about him. Worry about this instead," she declares, reaching into her right saddlebag to rummage through clinks of metal. She pulls out a spherical object and holds it in her hoof, one that looks almost as if it was staring back at him.

The griffons eye this orb with judgement. "... Does it still work?" the same griffon asks.

"You tell me." She reaches her muzzle to tap it with the end of her nose. This orb begins to glow with purple magic, before something akin to an iris and pupil form inside of it and blink awake. This unsettling display ends when the eye disperses into a menagerie of colors. Only now do the stoic fronts on the griffons turn up for impression.

"... Price we agreed on still stands," the griffon states.

"Which doesn't include the smuggling or the carrying fee," Dahlia declares.

The griffons give her a scrunched grimace. "Boss didn't talk about any fees, it was a clear cut price. Don't try to haggle us."

"It isn't a haggle, it's a demand. You've bought from me before, you should already know this. Not my fault if your boss forgot to give you the details."

"Didn't you listen? Boss didn't talk about any fees. That means: there's no fees."

Dahlia rolls her eyes at him, returning a severely unenthused look to him. "Again, not my problem if he forgot to bring it up. If you don't wanna pay up what's needed for this piece, go find somepony else. Not gonna waste my time when I can sell this thing in five minutes to the Rakalens across town, for double what I'm getting from you."

"We ain't paying no fucking fees, and you ain't selling it to our enemies," the griffon spits. "Give us the ward, Wisp. Or we'll make you sorry you--"

Crimson leans forward suddenly, looming over Dahlia to display one sharp hazel eye from under his hair. The griffons are quick to take a step back. "... I what?" the mare pries.

"Eeh, uh... he... understands us?" the now trepid griffon shoots his glare between her and the human.

"You wanna find out?"

The griffons sit in a momentary silence. The two exchange looks, coming to a silent agreement. "... Twelve percent, right?" Dahlia confirms with a nod. The second griffon turns and disappears into the home for a few seconds before he returns with two bags of bits – one larger and plump already tied with a string, the other smaller and modest which the griffon just now finishes tying.

With a swift exchange, the coins end up on Dahlia’s wing while the ward ends up in the front griffon’s claw. The griffons give the little mare a stern nod of approval and back into their homes, closing the door.

The duo turn to march out of this alleyway. Dahlia grins mischievously, ensuring no one is around before she voices her thoughts. “Hehe, suckers. My fee was already attached to the final price. Let’s hope their boss doesn’t find out I duped them for a bit extra~”

Crimson stays silent, simply walking behind her.

She pockets the money in her left saddlebag before continuing, “Alright, next stop is Ticlan. It’s another city just like this one about a mile off. Gonna be real with you, Crim, it might not be as smooth as this trade was, so expect the worst even if it doesn’t get that bad.”

Crimson reaches into his inner chest pocket, taking his pistol and lifting it slightly. He gages the weight even if he already knew he loaded it. The comfort of assurance.

“We’re gonna enter from the east gate, we’ll use that as our rendezvous point if we get separated. Sound good?” She turns her head back to glance at the silent man. He gives a curt nod in return.

With that, they follow the cobble roads to the next city over.

‎

~~~<

‎

The sun has risen to the middle of the sky, the noon heat rises from the sanded grounds around them. Arriving at the eastern borders of Ticlan, Dahlia gives the man a firm stare and declares this entrance as their returning point. They proceed into the town with heightened caution.

The city is nearly a carbon copy the previous one – the most notable difference being more structures made of stone rather than adobe or wood. Dahlia guides them through the crowds and swerves expertly past the clamoring shop owners foisting their products.

The energy is remarkably similar to Nole, it nearly feels as if they hadn’t walked a mile and a half to get to Ticlan, but it’s an undeniable fact they did. What’s also unshakable is the feeling that Crimson is being stared at more often than usual.

Nevertheless, they press on. Just like before, the shops at the center mesh into residences when approaching the borders of the city. Dahlia follows a concrete sidewalk that spans in between favelas and condos. At a non-descript archway into a blue three-story home, Dahlia takes the turn to walk up the wooden steps. Crimson basks in the shade once they step through the archway and rise up to a door left ajar. Without the courtesy to knock or let anyone know they’re entering, Dahlia shoulders the door open all the way and keeps walking.

Inside this first floor dining room, there are three gruff pegasus stallions and two burly zebras smoking cigarettes around a circular table while playing cards. They briefly stop their game to watch the out-of-place duo stride up to the next staircase. Only one of them moves to take a sip out of a beer bottle.

Ascending the second floor puts them in a strange mix between a washroom and bedroom, where three mares gossiping amongst each other in Sponish are hoof-washing clothes - one earth, one pegasus, and one unicorn. Again, at seeing the two arrive, they remain quiet and ogle them while they ascend the second staircase.

At the highest floor of this home is another bedroom layout with multiple twin beds and more child-like decorations despite there being no kids around. Instead, four grizzled earth stallions stand on the room’s balcony and overlook the neighborhood. Crimson and Dahlia approach them from behind, it’s obvious they act as if they are unaware of their presence. Once the duo come within a distance of a few feet, the four of them collectively walk together to the left side of the balcony, glaring at them while giving the space to stand on the right side.

Crimson and Dahlia take their oppressive hint and move to the right side of the balcony, standing next to a few hanging potted plants and wooden chairs. This balcony is surrounded by wooden rails that have seen some wear, but look stable enough to still work.

An ominous mad-dogging comes from the four stallions, to not only Dahlia, but Crimson as well. Each stallion is dressed in fairly casual attire - printed shirts and cargo shorts. Only one of them speaks up first, a blonde stallion with a light blue coat who stands in the middle. "Hi," he simply says, sounding rather friendly even though his voice is rough and mature.

"Hey," the mare replies plainly.

"My muscle wasn't wrong. You showed up early." With this revelation, Crimson understands why he felt more watched than usual. "With a human no less. What, no warning, no nada?"

"Thought I'd surprise you, Barco. You like surprises, don't you?"

The stallion named Barco snickers and lifts his eyes upwards. "You're right, I do. I do love surprises. And this... this is a surprise for sure." He smacks his lips with a grin. "So what, chica? You didn't come all this way for courtesy visit. Que hay? You bring me my shit early or what?"

Dahlia smirks in return and reaches her hoof into her right saddlebag. The same sounds of clinking as before ding from inside. She takes out a single playing card, one without any noticeably outstanding attributes. Just a regular old playing card. "From yours truly."

Barco raises his lips closer to his nostrils, nodding slowly but repeatedly. "You never fail, Wisp, you never fail. It's why I like you. Mira," he throws his head to the left, signaling the silent approach of one of the mares, the earth mare, who was doing laundry downstairs. She holds a small square strongbox in her hoof, one dazzled with different patterns and gems. She opens it and presents the contents - more gems rested atop stacks of bits. "That's for you, for a job well done."

Dahlia nods, extending her hoof outwards to offer the card. At this, the stallion whistles abruptly. The mare holding the payment lowers her head and trots to Dahlia quickly. She takes the playing card trepidly and replaces it with the weighty strongbox.

Dahlia gauges its volume by bringing her hoof up and down. Satisfied, she proceeds to look inside the box again. She analyzes the gems on the top, three emeralds, a ruby, two sapphires, and one diamond. The payment's all there, but... she bites her corner lip, feeling something mischievous come to mind. "... What happened to the third sapphire?"

"Que?" Barco asks cynically, giving her the side of his face.

"The third sapphire," Dahlia repeats, looking up to him seriously. "That's what we agreed on."

The stallion glares at her with his mouth hung for much longer than necessary. "... Hah!" He suddenly laughs once. "You take too much human dick on the way over here or what, chica? You not thinking straight?"

"I'm not fucking around, Barco."

The stallion freezes briefly, holding the same pose for three seconds before his face falls for a depressed frown. "Wisp..." he states her name gravely, taking two steps closer to her, "... you're not trying to play me right now, right? ... Right? Mm? Tell me I'm right, come on. Tell me."

Crimson becomes visibly defensive of Dahlia as he steps closer, but the mare herself puts a hoof to Crimson's thigh to calm him down. "You're right, I'm not. Everything we agreed on is in the box, except for that last sapphire. I'm not sure how you forgot it."

The stallion huffs and shakes his head, obviously holding back severe agitation. He pauses, freezes, and holds himself still for two seconds. He then smacks his lips again and nods repeatedly. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, disculpa me, I'm not sure how I forgot it either. That's my mistake, girly, for real, just-- lemme get one of my guys to go fetch it for you, okay?"

Dahlia squints at his obvious sarcasm. She reaches and snatches the card out of the mare next to her, pushing the box back into her chest. The mare gasps in surprise at the swift and sudden action. Only Barco's pupils move when witnessing this - his smirking doesn't let up. "That last sapphire, Barco. Or I walk."

"Hnhn," the stallion huffs an airy chuckle. "Chingada, Wisp. And here I thought we were cool. What happened, mm? Am I small-time now? Am I not good anymore? Now 'cause you got a human you think you're too good for me? Is that it, hm? Horny little mare spends her life savings on a human from the Horseshoes and suddenly... she's on top of the world..." He takes another two steps closer to Dahlia, standing only about a meter away. "That what it is?"

"What it is," Dahlia begins with a snarl, "is you going cheap on me, Barco. You're the last pony I expected to pull a product for less than it's worth."

"Hohoho, so now I'm cheap! Did you hear that, putos?" He takes a lazy, exaggerated stare at his mates at his side. "I'm cheap now, I'm cheap!" he echoes while his smile grows. He returns his oddly hyper stare to Dahlia. "So if it wasn't enough for you try and play me, you come here and you call me cheap? You come here, to my house, with your cute little face and your pretty-boy human, and you wanna FUCK with me?"

Dahlia squints her eyes and pulls her head back when he screams close to her face. Again, she has to put a hoof on Crimson to stop him from jumping at the imposing stallion. "Last chance. If that last sapphire doesn't show up, we're leaving."

The stallion suddenly turns around and starts to mutter to himself. "So now you're cheap, and now she's leaving, and it's your last chance-- nooo, she needs the last sapphire-- nooo, but she's not trying to play you, no, Barco, she's not trying to play you, nooo nonono, please..." He pauses again, unmoving. ... He turns around slowly and smiles again. "Look, Wisp, it's beautiful what you're doing. Pinching every last bit you can outta me before you sail away, trying to make me believe that was the deal from the beginning. I know that's what you do, it's what your kind likes to do... and I like that. No, I respect that. You use those beautiful little wings of yours to fly high, bullshit the pendejos, but hermana... down here..." he lifts his hoof to demonstrate the city of Ticlan. He then brings it down, crunching some wry grains of sand that are littered on the cement floor of the balcony. "... Down here, with all the cretins and bastards... you hit the ground."

Dahlia clenches her teeth and holds her composure.

"... I'mma give you thirty seconds. If you don't honor our deal, Wisp, I will. Come on," he whistles to her like one would a dog, "give papi the card. Take your payment, and get the fuck outta here."

Dahlia scowls at him deeply, taking no fondness in his choice of words. She returns the playing card to her saddlebag and scoffs, "Go fuck yourself, Barco."

The stallion's wicked smile slowly melds into a bored, resting expression. Even his henchmen look at him in a manner that says 'you gonna take that?' Barco lifts his lips closer to his nostrils as he did before, nodding repeatedly. "... Okay. Okay, I will."

"Hrck!" From the blindside, peeking from behind the balcony frame, the unicorn mare who was washing clothing downstairs channels her magic for a mighty push against Crimson's chest. The man staggers back hard enough to break the wooden rail behind him, but it wasn't enough to throw him off balance as he is ripe to recover before he falls off the edge-- "Rrh!" -- little does he expect for one of the pegasus stallions who was playing cards to suddenly come from under the balcony, latch onto him, and yank him off the edge.

Dahlia gasps as he falls, quickly turning her attention to the stallions that rush her. There isn't even a second to react.

Yet, that's all the time she needs to swerve under a small spacing in the remains of the wooden railing that Crimson didn't break, avoiding being grabbed by the rushing stallions. Dahlia quickly flaps her wings to ascend just high enough to level herself with a hanging potted plant. She kicks it, it rips off the thin, weak string it was suspended on, and it flies towards the unicorn mare to smash right onto her head. The mare cries her pain as she is thrown into a semi-conscious stun.

Dahlia tries to escape by flying off, but is quickly stopped when two other pegasus stallions come from below to stop her. She takes a millisecond to dart her eyes down to the ground below, seeing Crimson beating the pegasus who grabbed him into unconsciousness. With that as the display, she's confident enough in him to fend for herself.

Surrounded by both the earth stallions and pegasi, she remains completely still in the air.

"I'LL FUCK YOU UP, WISP!" Barco shouts to her.

She faces him and barks back, "Try it, 'pendeyho!'"

At her turning her back, the pegasus stallions rush her.

Barco and his henchmen anticipate her being detained with grins, grins which falter when she rolls over them unexpectedly; Dahlia performs and aerial somersault right over the attackers, allowing their speed to crash right into Barco and his henchmen. While the group of pissed stallions grunt and get off of each other, Dahlia dons her alacrity to snatch the strongbox out of the earth mare's hold and fly towards the staircase with it, expertly maneuvering down to the first floor without touching the ground. She can hear Barco upstairs cussing out his henchmen for allowing this to happen. With a snicker, she shoves the strongbox into her left saddlebag while flying. Once she arrives to the first floor, she notes the front door was mostly closed but left slightly ajar again. She speeds up to it and roundhouse kicks it open, dashing outside as quickly as she can. This action causes to two zebras that were standing guard outside to jump in fright, giving her the perfect window to simply fly past them.

She smiles at her dumb luck and sticks her tongue out at them as she flies away. When she looks forward, her eyes direct upwards, seeing she has nothing to smile about as more of Barco's henchmen have taken to the sky. With dilated eyes, she darts down closer to the ground and flies just above it. Some henchmen spot her and begin to follow her flight while others stay high in the sky in case she wants to fly away.

She continues her mad dash towards the center of town with the highest density of population. She looks back, seeing five stallions flying at incredible speeds just behind her. She'll try to lose them in the town center.

Once the residences turn to shops and stands, she stops flapping her wings and lets her four hooves carry her. The speed is a frantic sprint until it slow to a run. This gives the henchmen an opportunity to get closer, but they fail to realize that slowing down was a necessary step. Three henchmen are unable to slow down in time to prevent colliding into innocent bystanders - a ruckus spawns among the townsfolk. The smarter two continue with a sprint behind Dahlia.

The mare squints her eyes as she bobs and weaves through the crowd, her avoiding collision with any other body coming to look like an intricate dance. The more dense the population becomes, the harder the henchmen are to spot. After a good amount dodging and swerving, Dahlia's panting breaths become her most exasperated trait when her motions die down to almost a regular trot.

Looking up, she still sees some goons in the skies above aiming their sights down to find her. After enough melding and blending, she notes that they've lost her in the wave of bodies. Taking panting breaths, she directs herself into one of the many alleyways at random to try and catch her breath.

She rounds one corner, another corner, another and another, getting herself as lost as possible in order to--

"Gyah!" she staggers after turning another corner, a tall shaded figure pops out just as she does. Her heart neatly jumps out of her mouth, but her body is quick to relax with an agitated sigh when she sees who it is. "Hrrh, what the fuck, Crim!" she whispers-yells. "Don't scare me like that!"

The man leans back and shrugs. She notices that the man doesn't even have a scratch on him, making the stress she had at him being pushed off the balcony die away instantly.

"C'mon, we need to get the fuck outta here."

Crimson nods in agreement. Together, they take the shaded alleyways at Dahlia's guidance. They end up finding the north of Ticlan's border and use it to slip away into the desert. Although they have to take a long route, they escape well enough from Barco's goons with not only the payment, but the card as well.

‎ ‎

~~~<

‎ ‎

Barging into their room in Maracas, the duo let out a united sigh of relief. Crimson strides to the island which sits the plethora of magazines and takes a seat on a stool. Dahlia drops her heavy saddlebags onto the ground before she throws herself onto the bed, rolling onto her back.

"Uuugh," Dahlia groans out her exhaustion unnecessarily loud.

"Sheesh," Crimson sighs again, rubbing the sand off his eyelids. "That was a whole lotta... somethin'."

"Yeah, it was. But screw them, I got paid~"

"That's what it looks like. How much money you make?"

"From both deals? In bits alone I got six-thousand five-hundred bits. With those gems from Barco? Another five-thousand."

"Eleven-thousand five-hundred? What, you wanna buy a house in Las Pegasus?"

"Pfft, that would be a huge waste. I was thinking more... Manehattan~"

Crimson flatulates with his lips and lays his head down on his right bicep, having zero clue where or what that is. "You got the money, don't let your dream end as a thought."

"I won't, but I'm not done yet. There's still way more bits to go before this mare is ready to settle down."

"Yer love of money is as strong as ever."

"Damn right. My treasury is already huge but I still want more. And I won't stop until I've got everything I want~"

"Ch, good luck with that."

"Good luck? I am luck. It's always on my side~"

Crimson closes his eyes, savoring being out of the sun. Having left the balcony door open only served to cool down the room to a comfortable level, making him savor his comfort further.

"Hey, do me a solid?"

"A solid? The hell is a solid? Ain't gonna shit in front of you, if that's what you mean."

Dahlia gags theatrically. "Fuck you! A favor, dude! You live under a rock?"

"Never heard nobody use the word 'solid' as a favor."

"Well get with the times, grandpa. Do me a solid."

He lifts his head, groaning at his relaxation being interrupted so soon. "What 'solid' can I do you for?"

"Go to the fridge there and get me a soda."

Crimson sees where she points her hoof. The sparkpowder fridge next to the stove stands proudly. The man slogs out of his seat and stumbles over to the fridge, opening it up and peering inside. A pleasant shock courses through his body. He doesn't need to understand the writing on the label to know what it is... "Why didn't you tell me they got dark beer?"

"You can't tell me you actually like that crap."

"Dark beer's one of the highest blessin's know to man, Deedee. But since you ain't a man, I'll excuse yer tasteless palate."

"Just give me an orange soda before I kick your ass."

Crimson retrieves one bottle of beer from the count of twenty-four, then one orange soda bottle from a count of twelve. He shuts the fridge with a soft slam, turning about-face to walk over and hand Dahlia her beverage.

"Thanks," Dahlia says as she sits up, taking it from him before swatting the cap off with her hoof effortlessly. Crimson presses his thumb against the hard-cap and pops it off with equal ease. The mare reaches her drink upward, offering a toast to the man. He accepts it with a smirk, and their bottles clank.

Down the hatch, they both take immodest swigs from their beverages. One after the other, Dahlia takes her lips off from her drink first with a satisfied sigh. "Phew, I love this stuff," Dahlia beams. "Used to drink it all the time."

"The brand or the drink?" Crimson inquires.

"Both, actually. This is one of the few pops still made since before the Great War. How about yours? You enjoying your carbonated poison?"

“Stuff’s not bad.” He offers the bottle to her, "Want a sip?"

“Hell no! I'd rather enjoy my drink instead of fight it."

The man shrugs and bring the bottle back to himself. "More fer me. Where's this from?"

"It’s local. The distillery is actually two buildings off from this hotel.”

“Hm. They export?”

“Yup. Every major city and a few towns. Remember Dodge?”

“I do.”

“There too.”

"Very nice," Crimson simpers, admiring the deep blue labeled printed with fancy words and markings. His eyes end up shifting from the bottle to the mare just past it, who looks off into the distance while taking another drink from her soda.

...

Magenta orbs shift his way, ones that become quickly questioning. "... Are we doing a staring contest now or something?"

Realization boots him back into reality with start. He blinks twice. "Mh, appears that I just lost."

"Nothing new there since you were competing against me. What's with the look, though, seriously? I got something on my face?"

"Nah. Was just thinkin'."

"About?"

"You let yer hair grow."

She looks at the strands in front of her face, then reaches around to pull the mane which rests on her neck forward with her hooves. She looks at it, almost distastefully. "Yeah, haven't had the chance to cut my mane in a while. I'm usually on top of it. Guess it slipped."

"You look nice with long hair. Least I think so."

"Eh, I don't like it. I might get around to getting it trimmed down soon. It only gets the in way. Like right now, actually." She blows some of her hair away from her right eye.

"Guess yer right."

"It's not very practical... unless that's the intention." She hits at the mop upon his head.

"Glad you're able to acknowledge good use of a tool." He crosses his arms, giving the mare another studious look. She visibly becomes squeamish under his gaze. "Pardon my starin', I just... tryin'a figure somethin' out."

"About me, or...?"

The man snaps his fingers, the idea springing into his mind. "I know what yer hair reminds me of now. You kinda look like my sister, you two have a real similar style."

"I've never met her, but if she has hair like me, that already makes her cooler than you."

"Well you'd be right about that, she's way cooler than me. Hopefully soon enough I get to see her again."

Dahlia nods twice, letting her eyes drift to the side. They haphazardly land on the opened doors of the balcony. After some silence and contemplation, she speaks up. "You wanna sit outside for a bit?"

"Sure."

The two make their way to the balconies and take their respective seats, taking a moment to finish their beverages while looking out to Equestria's waning afternoon.

‎ ‎

~~<

‎‎

"The hell was up with that card anyway?" Crimson asks, gazing out to the setting sun. Both he and Dahlia sit at the lawn chairs on the balcony, savoring more drinks and the view of Equestria.

"The playing card?" Dahlia counter-assesses.

"Yeah. Regular ol' deck card ain't nothin' to write home about."

"Crim, it's an enchanted playing card. You think Barco was about to fork over thousands for a regular fucking playing card?"

"Well what does this 'enchanted' playin' card do? Win you every hand?"

"Yeah, literally it does. It magically morphs into whatever card you want it to when you have it tucked away. It even takes the design of whatever deck the house is playing. If you know how to cheat at poker or blackjack, that card will make you a millionaire."

"No shit?"

"No shit, dude."

"Damn," he raises his brows, thinking about the implications. "Why don't you use that thing to make all the money you want? 'Stead of riskin' yer life like you did today."

"Because I don't have ears big enough to hide the card behind. I'm not lucky in that sense."

"Hide it under yer sleeve."

"I've never tried learning that, and I don't wanna. I'm not patient enough to play card games, much less cheat at them. You gotta be reeeaaally patient for that shit."

"But yer patient enough to avoid gettin' an arrow in the head from a booby trap?"

"Yup. That's how life is, Crim. Unpredictable."

"More like you tried and couldn't figure it out."

"Shut up."

"Ain't no shame in admittin' yer bad at somethin', Deedee. Like me, I fuckin' suck at throwin' darts. I can shoot a bottle a mile away, but can't hit the center of a dart board to save my life."

"Pft, what? How can you shoot a gun but not know how to throw darts?"

"How can you cheat someone outta their money but not know how to cheat at poker?"

"They're two different things, smartass."

"You just answered yer own question."

Dahlia rolls her eyes, unable to keep a smile off her face. "Yeah, well, keep your weird riddles to yourself. I'm going to bed. We have that trade with the zebras tomorrow, and you need to be serious. No screwing around."

"You see me screwin' around today?"

Dahlia bites the inside of her cheek. "... No, but... still. Be serious. This trade is gonna be bigger than both trades we had today combined."

"Combined? God damn, what are we tradin' them? Our souls?"

"The rings, Crim, the rings."

Realization strikes him. "Ah, right, the one you fabricated. Well, long as you know what yer doin'."

"Trust me, I do. Now get some rest, we'll be up bright an early."

"You rest up too. Need it after dodging them goons."

Dahlia takes a glance at him, seeming lackluster. Though, to his pleasant surprise, she smiles at him. "I'll sleep like a baby tonight, don't worry about me."

"That's what Iike to hear. G'night, Dahlia."

"... Goodnight," she replies hesitantly, turning herself to rest on the bed.

The evening gives away to night peacefully.

Getting Burned

~ The San Palomino Desert, Maracas ~<
April 1st, Saturday, 6:58

‎

Dust behind them, Crimson and Dahlia exit the town past the spiked border of Maracas and enter the sands of the desert. The direction seems aimless, but the man trusts she knows where she's going.

The sands are kicked up in weak torrents by the coming winds. The duo walk with a squint under the morning desert sun as to protect themselves from the attacking sediment.

A hike of thirty minutes puts them over an easily missable trail that travels towards north Equestria and down further south. Not a soul can be seen for miles, it’s completely desolate out here. She stops here, right in the middle of the path. He stands next to her, hands lazily to his sides, and they wait.

And wait.

A rather strong gust of wind passes over them.

More waiting.

The sun judges them harshly. Wearing all black doesn't fair well in standing completely still.

Ever yet, they wait.

Dahlia nudges Crimson’s thigh, garnering his attention to where she is looking. He sees what she's hinting at - a group of armor-clad zebras making trail across the line towards them, their figures hazy under the rays of the sun. As they get closer, their details become illustrated. They have spears, heavy plated armor looking to be made from some kind of metal, helmets with plumes, and paint along their bodies that compliment their natural stripes.

Even with all of their equipment, they walk confidently. They look grizzled, no nonsense, and very determined. Soon enough, they come into range and stop a few meters in front of the duo.

The first to speak is the zebra who stands before the pack, taller and bigger-framed, speaking in a language neither of them understand. He then follows up with something they comprehend, "A bless’ed mo’ning to y’u both." His voice is bassy and deep, bearing a thick accent that makes his words dance with intonation.

"Morning," Dahlia replies simply, not looking too interested in small-talk.

"I pr’ey tha’at you ha’ave the Kuo'i'la."

She smiles sternly. "It's right here." She reaches into her saddlebags and takes out the ring in question. She presents it to the tribe, and collectively, their hard expressions glow in adore. They mumble between each other in their language.

The zebra at the very front, still composed and straight, begins again, "it is a’as they have sa’ed. You are a mast’ah of the craft. Yo’a payment for service rende’ed."

One of the zebras next to him, who has a chest on his back, steps forward and unhitches it, letting the heavy metal box fall to the sand with a muffled thud. This same zebra uses his hoof to open the simple latch to present the inside.

Crimson is astounded to see possibly thousands of golden coins finely assorted in stacks to the brim of the sizable chest. He comes to realize Dahlia probably didn't bring him for protection, but to mule this insane payment.

Dahlia's smile turns to a grin when she sees her loot. She then approaches the lead zebra and presents the ring to him, allowing him to take it. He does so with gentleness, holding the ring as if it were a fragile egg. He brings it up to his face and inspects it very harshly; his squint is almost enough to pierce right through.

Dahlia holds an undaunted expression, almost cocky, as he scrutinizes his possession. Crimson witnesses this silent exchange with caution, but hides it behind his hair. The other zebras express their uncertainty more visibly.

Satisfied with his examination, the zebra finally puts it on – slipping it over his left hoof up to his upper leg muscle. It fits snug. He then looks up towards Dahlia.

“Good as new, right?” the mare counts.

“Yes, ma’am. It is as you sa’ey.” His serious front suddenly churns gravely. “Howev’a. I w’uld like to see my he’e’loom n’aow. If you may.”

Everyone around reels in shock.

“What?” Dahlia questions. “You have it, it’s right there!”

“Please do not tr’ae my patience, young w’one. This is not our Kuo'i'la.”

“Yeah? Well you’re trying my patience too, buddy. What’s making you think that’s not your ring?”

“Because.” He looks down at the band. “Kuo'i'la emits pow’a when donned by the bl’udline of Lok-tok’a. This…” he flexes his upper left leg muscle, effortlessly shattering the band off. Its broken pieces fall onto the sand. “… has no pow’a.” Crimson glares at Dahlia, feeling a surge of adrenaline begin its course through his veins. He almost wants to strangle her.

Dahlia, obviously revealed to be a fraud, grits her teeth and takes one step back. The zebras note this and instantly draw their weapons. To mirror them, Crimson clenches his hands into fists and steps in front of Dahlia. The opposing force looks mildly surprised at seeing him post himself, but still eagerly await their chance.

“Th’ees will be yo’a final wa’aning, y’ung w’one,” the zebra calmly states. “Present to me my Kuo'i'la. Even in its wo’on state. I will sp’ea yo’a lives if I am all’owed to leave with what is mine.”

“Damn it,” Dahlia grunts quietly, finding herself backed into a corner. Crimson looks back to her, still holding firm in the event of a fight. He glares at her, hoping she has sense enough to do what’s right. Dahlia looks briefly to him, then back to the zebra. "... Yeah, well, sucks that I don’t have it anymore.” The zebras, including Crimson, grit their teeth in anger. “I sold it off the first night I got it. I don’t know where it’s at anymore.”

The man nearly turns around to grasp her.

“…” The front-man to the tribe glares with scolding disappointment. “’Andastand, Wisp. You have sullied yo’a name, and brought dishon’a to your ancest’as. What you have done cannot be ret’and with money. For this…” he reaches for the spear that was holstered at his back and aims it at Dahlia, “… you pay with yo’a life.”

With this calling, the zebras shout warcries and charge the duo. Crimson tightens his body, seeing them come from every angle. Dahlia takes her opportunity to get distance, darting back with her wings and flying above them.

Alone to deal with the charge, Crimson intercepts the first thrust of the spear done by a zebra. He grabs it, pulls on it, but the zebra doesn’t let go. With no time to react to the next thrust, another zebra’s spear goes to his face. He lifts his right shoulder just in time to have the pointed end jab it instead.

With this pang of pain, he exerts his body and yanks the spear he grips again. Still, the zebra does not give up his iron grip, but it’s not enough to prevent Crimson from pulling him over as well. Continuing the motion, he spins in a circle with the spear and the zebra in tow, using the stubborn zebra as a wrecking-ball to smash into the other oncoming attackers with immense force to accompany the weight. Four of them are hit, pieces of their armor shatter and chip, and they are heavily concussed. This leaves three others still standing in for the assault.

The spear breaks in half from the imbalanced pressure, and Crimson gets the pointed end. He flips it and holds it like a dagger with his right hand, skipping back to get some distance on the coming attackers. Like wind, he reaches into his inner duster pocket with his left hand to retrieve his pistol. He aims it with haste, spitting out repeated shots.

One zebra is successfully impaled twice in the forehead and cheek. He goes down within two seconds of the poison shocking him. The other zebras witness this and immediately stop their rush. They switch their tactic in a second, instead approaching with a cautious trot while huddling close.

Crimson squints and proceeds to fire into the slow-moving targets. They duck their heads and shrug their shoulders, having the darts hit their helmets and pauldrons instead. Before he knows it, his weapon clicks with an emptied mag and he has failed to tranquilize another zebra.

The weapon’s odd noise along with no more projectiles makes the zebras lift their heads with angst.

“URRAAAAAAH!”

Their charge resumes. Crimson clenches his jaw and pockets the weapon back. They come into range and attack again.

What they do not anticipate is the man charging at them and ducking instead of backing away. Because of this sudden motion, their planned jabs with their spears go over him, and he rolls into grasping distance between the left two zebras. He springs up from his roll and jabs his broken spear into the lower jaw of a zebra, lodging it deep and killing him. He grasps this large animal with one arm and his spear with his other, and uses him as a shield to stop most of the zebras on the right from piking him. Two spears bounce off their comrade’s metal armor, but an attack from the lone zebra behind successfully gets a strike into Crimson’s lower back.

Grunting in pain, he rushes forward to trample the two zebras at his front to get away from the punishment. He runs both of them down at the cost of losing is footing, tripping and rolling over the dead zebra and onto the sand. He rises onto his feet with huffs of pain and takes the dead zebra’s spear. As the two he knocked down try to rise to their fours, he is able to take his spear into the unarmored spine of one of them, paralyzing him and leaving him to his fate. The other is able to stand before he is impaled, guarding himself with his armor.

Crimson slowly backpedals with the spear in both hands, panting, with sand and blood staining his clothes. Two dead, three wounded, and three still healthy. He is internally regretting taking this tussle. They’re powerful, they’re smart, and they’re concise. He doesn’t know what tribe Dahlia decided to fuck with, but he’s definitely going to voice his displeasure for doing this.

The three that are healthy move in for the attack this time, all taking their spears to him in a three-man phalanx. With only his wits and his spear, he uses it to defend himself rather than attack. His gaze is fixed forward while he slowly backpedals. Each jab comes strong, razer-like, but is deflected by being swatted off by the end of his pike.

The dance gets intricate, complicated, the attacks become less predictable and come from weirder angles as the zebras change their stances. The other wounded zebras are getting close to catching their wind, they look ready to join the tango.

He needs to change his tactic somehow, but he can’t find the space to do so.

In fact, as he debates a strategy, the zebras do as well. Some break off the phalanx while others continue attacking. They begin to surround him in a large circle once they realize they cannot penetrate him head on. Before long, Crimson has spears darting at him from every angle.

In a frantic dance for life, he spins and twirls with his spear, trying to block them at every angle while swinging his spear to shoo them off.

The entire time, Dahlia is watching in a harsh panic from above. She watches as the man fends off a horde of pissed off tribals, but does not react to help. She tries her mind for any course of action, but none work for her. Her attention is also constantly distracted by the frontman of the tribe simply standing there, gawking up at her. He hasn’t joined the fight at all – and as a matter of fact, he hasn’t moved from his initial spot and put away his spear. He only stands there, glaring up at her in distaste.

Crimson can’t get himself out of this mess without outright fleeing. He keeps blocking them off while getting them away with thrusts. He could try tiring them out, but his spear is chipping at the base of the stone from all of the blocking. Even though he can stay doing this forever, his weapon cannot. Once he loses his reach advantage, he knows he’ll be in trouble.

Dahlia’s attention keeps bouncing between the mad-dogger and the fight; now it snaps towards the frontman when she suddenly sees his mouth begin to move, as if he were talking. It’s too quiet for her to hear. Her trembling eyes slowly widen. “What the…?”

She is dumbfounded to see small sparks of fire begin to burn on his armor – or more specifically, on the bone necklace that he dons. It is igniting, as if it were made of flame itself, and the rest of his armor begins to ember, smolder, and catch fire. Somehow, some way, this is not hurting him. This fire begins to burn around him, especially at his hooves.

“… The fuck?” she speechlessly utters.

The zebra throws his hoof forward, and a lasso of fire unleashes from the base. It reaches out like a streak of light.

It grasps Dahlia, entrapping her at the waist.

“SHIT!” she cries and tries to flap her wings faster, but to no avail, she stays in place. She almost begins to feel the searing pain of fire where the lasso binds her. “Nnhn! Aah-Aaaaah!”

Crimsons hears her cry. His focus on parrying is broken. He looks up at Dahlia in the air, caught like game. He only now notices the frontman of the zebras conjuring some sort of magic that enflames him. He sees it, too. His mouth is puckering. His cheeks are inflating. There’s no way he’s going to, like a dragon--

Shick!

Losing focus causes him to take a spear to the chest. The zebra pulls him in, growls into his face, and shoves him off. Crimson staggers back and takes another spear into his back. “NaaAAAH! LET ME GO, LET ME GO!” He hears the desperate mare call out as the refined stone penetrates his upper back. This zebra does the same, twists the spear, and shoves him off of it.

Crimson staggers again and coughs, only to wind up stabbed again by a zebra at his stomach. He squints, gritting his teeth as trickles of blood coat them. The zebra who got him next smiles in satisfaction directly into the man's face.

The frontman swishes his mouth, prepping himself. He still stares at her with bitterness. Dahlia feels tears forming in her eyes from the pain of the lasso. It feels like its melting right through her, even though all it does is suspend her in place. But what surely will burn is the empowered spell that is forming in the frontman’s mouth. Like a dragon breathing fire, he opens his maw to allow an all-consuming gust of flames to erupt towards her. A giant cone of smoldering fire claws and reaches towards Dahlia.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

The girliest, most ear-piercing scream he’s ever heard her emit. What an interesting sound for her to make, he thinks. He hopes it’s the last time he has to hear it.

It’s the last thing he actively registers as he feels his body ignite without his say-so.

"HOAH!?" The zebra who currently has his weapon cutting into the man sounds off in confusion when the back of his head is grasped. Crimson pulls them closer together, causing the spear to stab into him further. The man has no care, no regard. He takes his other hand to grasp the zebra's chin, and with both hands united, he breaks the zebra's neck with a fatal twist.

He kicks the large animal away, bouncing his lifeless body across the sand. The other zebras stop and witness this in shock. He grasps the spear lodged in his stomach and yanks it out, blood spitting from his wound. He turns like a sentry, off towards the mare who is about to be covered in flames. The man aimlessly chucks the spear with great force, the sound barrier protests the projectile. The tip of the stone lodges itself deep into a zebra's chest and he cries in pain - the throw now seeming more calculated than it initially came across.

The man crouches, his muscles flex under his bloodied and sanded clothes, and he springs into the air like a coil.

His powerful leap bashes sand around and throws him towards Dahlia just as the flames engulf her; by the time he reaches her, she is completely consumed by the flame. He punches through the fire, towards her silhouette, and grasps her. The magic of the lasso isn’t strong enough to hold against his jump force, dispersing at the end into a twinkle of magic.

Crimson falls with a slightly smoking Dahlia towards the sand. His golden eyes glare at her, seeing that she’s barely conscious, but luckily largely unharmed by not being in the flames long enough – or perhaps these magical flames were not meant to actually burn. Whatever the case, he tries to keep her from dying.

His Arch pushes itself through her, taking the express route using her bloodstream and in an attempt to get rid of excess carbon monoxide from her body.

The process is a flash - the time it takes for them to fall six stories, land on the ground, and have Crimson gently place her on the sand is enough for the process to complete. The man, moving almost autonomously, rightens his posture and glares over to the frontman who looks back just as seriously. His hair has flown back from the jump to its natural style, causing his eyes to be visible.

The other zebras, still mostly confused and intimidated, attempt to rally themselves and go for another charge.

The frontman suddenly shouts something in his language at them, causing them to stop in their tracks. He and Crimson continue to glare at one another.

Crimson turns his head down to the dazed resting mare who pants with half-lidded eyes. He reaches down, invading her saddlebags. She doesn’t appear to be stopping him, if she’s even able to. He takes out the rusted bracelet. Its appearance causes the zebras to inhale sharply.

Ring in his fist, the man begins to walk towards the frontman until they are face to face. This animal is very tall, meeting him almost eye-to-eye, just a shy shorter. They exchange another fierce look, Crimson’s glowing eyes punching the zebra’s soul, and the zebra’s cold gaze icing him right back.

Crimson offers the ring back. The zebra stares at him for a moment longer before accepting it with gentleness, donning it where the fake was, and seeing it glow amongst its rust to provide a faded energy.

The fire that surrounds the zebra fades, the bone necklace he wears extinguishes. At this, Crimson’s eyes return to their hazel selves.

“You ha’ave my ete’nal gratitude,” the frontman states with his deep, gritty tone. The man does not reply, he only nods once. “You a’ah wise, unlike yo’a other ha’af. Please… if you will. Teach her. Do not scold her. She has much to learn. Especially from one such as yo'aself.”

His words strike a profound reach. His burning frustration and anger towards Dahlia, while not completely gone, has an ice-bucket tossed onto it. The very zebra she tried stealing from has more sympathy than he aimed to provide. Crimson looks back towards the other zebras that are approaching him from behind. They carry their dead comrades, some are still limping and wounded. Visible guilt takes his face, which the frontman catches quickly.

“Petty not, proud warri’a,” he calls, garnering Crimson’s attention. “You have slain my kin in fai’r battle. They died an honar’ble death. They will return to the sands as kings.” He looks over to the other zebras, seeing grim but agreeable expressions on their faces. He faces the man again. “You have earned an ally with yo’a actions. We may not know yo’a name, but we will hon’a you in song and spirit.”

Crimson’s listless eyes end up on the chest that contains the massive payment. Again, the acute frontman follows his gaze.

“The money is yo’as to keep, proud warrior.” This brings a pang of shock to Crimson, making him look back at him incredulously. “We have no need of idle riches. I am content to have my he’e’loom in my possession again. Truly, I was a fool to pa’at with it to begin with. Pe’haps in the future I shall ende’va to restore it again. With more supervision.”

Crimson nods once again in acknowledgement. With this, the frontman turns without further words. He begins to march, his tribe follows behind him. They journey off, leaving the duo alone in the expanse of the desert again.

Crimson feels his legs give from under him once his Arch stops actively supporting him. He falls onto his knees, idly gawking out to the distance, watching the tribe become farther and farther away. He can't begin to fathom what he just went through. He killed their people because his partner tried to steal from them... yet they honored him and respected him regardless.

Dahlia allowed her greed to toil the graces of such benignant people. The very thought of this infuriates him to no end... yet, he scolds himself for being surprised. Knowing what she does for a living, even accounting what she pulled off yesterday... he should have seen this coming.

He stays on his knees, arms limp to his sides, for an uncounted time.

It isn’t until he hears coughing and a groan come from the mare behind him that he snaps out of his stagnation. He looks back towards her, seeing her trying to get to her hooves.

He forces his trembling body to rise. He approaches the chest and bends down to lift it with both arms, just as heavy as he expected it to be. He foists it onto his left shoulder before proceeding to Dahlia. He slogs his hurting frame through the sand. It looks like she’s still recovering from the fumes and the cleansing. He reaches down and picks her up, tucking her against his chest with his right arm.

He takes one last look at the battlefield. Blood litters the sand all around.

He begins limping back towards the town.

‎

~~~<

‎

Ignoring all the spying eyes from the wanderers around, Crimson succeeds at getting them into the hotel and fetching an elevator to their floor with the help of the amicable barkeep. Once they arrive, he wastes no time getting them into their designated quarters – pilfering the key to the door from Dahlia’s bag. He enters, kicks the door closed behind them, moves to set her down on the bed, and sets the chest down next to it.

He steps back, eyeing her silently. During the walk back, she passed out. He kept trying to funnel his Arch into her, making sure she was okay and not brain dead or charred, but he kept coming back with nothing. She looks fine. The lasso didn’t even leave a burn mark, which was interesting to him considering it was made purely of fire. He chalks it up to his previous assumption: magic being magic.

Leaving her to her rest, he huffs out an agitated breath. He looks around the room for something to do. Nothing really comes to mind except taking some of the paper tissues from the kitchen to clean the blood off his clothes.

He proceeds to do so. Luckily his clothes are all black and doesn’t present the blood very well, so it’s mostly getting the sand off.

He doesn’t stop wiping himself off until he’s relatively clean again.

‎

~~~<

‎

Cool, lightly-carbonated liquid races down Crimson's throat once more. His lips pop off the end of the glass bottle, emptied of its contents. He sets down the beer bottle to his right side, next to six other emptied vessels. His cheeks puff up, forcing the oncoming burp to come out passively through his nose.

The mild buzz sits comfortably. He rests on the lawn-chair of the balcony. Dahlia is still lights-out on the bed inside. He watches, with jaded eyes, the sky slowly paint from a fiery orange-red to a passive, deep purple-blue. It's gorgeous, he thinks. Here he is, once more, watching what is Equestria's expansive beauty.

... And again, the land reminds him how horrifying it is. Each time he steps out of his haven, where ever that may be, he finds himself trying to escape with his life. More often than not, with someone else's life too.

"Fuckin’ Dahlia. Why did she go and pull a trick like that? Didn’t peg her the suicidal type, but I’m dead fuckin’ wrong."

He can't understand it. She nearly got herself killed, and for what? Money? Money that she supposedly already has? He feels he has not been around her for long enough to really determine if she has the cunning and survival skills everyone seems to always talk about. For the time he's know her, it's pure trouble, each fucking time.

He reaches to his left side, picking up another bottle from the remaining five. He presses his thumb to the hard-cap and pops it off effortlessly, taking an immodest swing. With three chugs, he downs almost half of the bottle. He pulls it away and rests the bottom of the bottle on his chest, glazing his slowly blinking eyes to the now-darkened sky. Very little light is left from the sun. The eve gives way.

Another day. Another night. It’s all feeling the same. He can’t tell the difference between this day and the last. Events are present in his mind, but the time that’s passed between them meshes indecipherably.

He’s hard-pressed to think he’s made any actual progress. Everything he’s done until now rounds him to a new road that breaks off to a completely new end. What the end entails is always ambiguous. The sparse time he has to regress into his muse only makes him more jaded. Over two months in this land and he still doesn’t know what he’s actually doing here.

“And it’s all Fate’s fault – or the condescending figure who called herself that. Ripe to assume she’s the reason I’m here, yet she showed herself once… probably on purpose. Found it right to rise from the shade just to say ‘hi.’ Some formality. She’s probably watchin’ me, waitin’ to see all the ways her world can fuck with me. Where are you now, Fate? You wanna show yerself again? You can prolly hear what I’m thinkin’ or some shit. Playing the mystic.” Silence responds to his mental accusations. “… I fuckin’ hate you. Why’d you take my sister away from me? Huh? The fuck did I do to deserve this? Some caper of yers? I ain’t laughin’. The folk I killed certainly ain’t.”

He hopes now with this new path he is about to walk some sort of purpose will formulate in front of him. He takes another drink of his beer, this time more reserved than his previous drinks. His heart is sinking deeper the further up the alcohol takes him. It all feels so god damn pointless.

“Humiliated. Treated like an animal. Fer yer entertainment? You pull me into this fucked up place for a front-row seat to a play of yer own?”

He reaches his free hand to the collar that still binds his neck and pulls on it – hard. Very hard. He feels the back of his neck pushing in and pop once. He grits his teeth fiercely, his chest puffs out.

“Hrh,” he gives up, the collar does nothing, not even a small tear. He’ll sooner break his body trying to get it off with his strength.

“… Why? Why did it work? This fuckin’ thing selectively choose to hate me?”

He brings back his encounter with the zebras, how his Arch activated without the collar putting him down like the dog he is. He felt it, it was alive. Strong. His body begins to feel a certain way when it channels, which is usually pain, but accompanied also by a whimsical sensation that cannot be described with words. Light? Featherlike? Giddy? He can’t find the right word.

There was no pain, only bliss. The collar chose not to hurt him, but why?

Crimson drinks the rest of his beer with a few rushing chugs, getting the bottle set down safely at his right side with the rest of the empty family. He sits up, staring out to the distant land. He takes a deep inhale and lets it out. He repeats himself two more times, until he inhales and holds it inside. His muscles flex fiercely, his eyes begin to glow with golden light.

“Rrh-rrrhh!” The metal pieces of the collar pulse with the color of his Arch and it drains him again. It instantly exhausts him, he falls back down to lay on the chair again. “… Gah… damn it,” he huffs between two breaths, getting his slightly inebriated self to calm down. He reaches for another bottle of beer, getting the cap popped off with the flick of his thumb.

As soon as he brings the bottle up to his lips, a voice calls to him, “You okay?”

He turns his dreary gaze towards the mare who stands mane-disheveled at the sliding door. It was left open to let some of the heat escape, but even then he didn’t hear her approach. She’s silent, he’ll give her that.

“Yeah,” the man simply replies, turning to face Equestria again. “… You?”

“Dizzy. Chest hurts. … You sure you’re not dying? Those zebras stabbed you… more than once.”

Crimson shakes his head and doesn’t respond further.

She looks at the small army of emptied bottles forming next to his chair. “… You drinking?” He reaches to his left side and picks out an unopened bottle, offering it to her. She looks at it skeptically. “I’m good.” He places the bottle back down in its original spot. She scans him once more with dubiety before taking a seat on the other lawn chair sat adjacently to his.

She takes a moment to tuck her tail and sit on her fours comfortably, looking out to the land. Once Crimson feels that she’s situated, his first query is, “What the fuck was that?”

“Excuse me?” she immediately enters the defense.

“I didn’t stutter.”

“The fuck was what? You saw it! They attacked us!”

He sits up, eyes dilated, “’Cuz you tried fuckin’ stealin’ from them!”

“And? I’ve done shit like this hundreds of times, it just so happens this one fell through!”

“How could you not know their piece was magic? That’s the first thing I’d expect you to find out!”

“Well they don’t exactly have any books or records in Ponish, moron! How was I supposed to find that out?”

“Then why try STEALIN’ from them!?”

“MONEY, is why! This only fell through because you came! I should have just trusted myself and gone alone!”

Crimson smacks his chest with his palm, “You would’a fuckin’ died if I wasn’t there! Does that not clip into yer stupid fuckin’ head!? That zebra had magic, girl! Magic! Nearly brunt yer ass!”

“I could have flown away, but noOo! I had to stay for your dumbass! You’re nothing but a fucking weight on my shoulders! You’re bad luck incarnate! Each time you’ve been around me, something gets fucked up! I always win! But NOT WHEN YOU’RE AROUND!”

Crimson’s jaw clenches harshly, his pin-for-eyes glare violence. There’s so many damn things he wants to say.

“Do not scold her. She has much to learn. Especially from one as yourself.”

“…” Crimson’s inner flame begins to extinguish slowly – painfully slowly. All the rage he feels is becoming awfully overwhelming, but he fights it the best he can. “… Fuck,” he whispers to himself, falling back down to the chair. He plants his free hand onto his forehead, taking his beer back to his mouth to let the cool alcohol quench his fire.

Dahlia, panting gently from getting so heated, gawks at him as he returns to a rest. Her anger doesn’t want to let up, but she knows he’s done arguing, which she realizes that is all they have done these last two days. There is so much more she wants to say, from more than one packet of thought, but she swallows it, just like she saw him do. Witnessing him give up on arguing with her wells her up with… something. Something she cannot figure out.

The quiet between them is hurting her, but she can’t think of anything else to say. At least, nothing that would help the current situation...

... just then, one thing does come to mind. “… Hey,” she calls to him. He does not bother looking over. “Think, uh… think you can pass me one of those?”

He sits idle for a second or two, but then reaches down to pick up a bottle for her. He flicks the cap off and offers it. She takes it, bringing it in with both hooves. She feels the cool bottle press against her coat, it does a small work to ease her nerves. She takes the top to her lips, pressing it firmly. Her lips don’t part, the liquid coats them. It takes a nervous moment, but her mouth finally opens. The bitter contents flow in, she tries to savor it as little as possible, and she forces down two swings. She pulls the bottle away and shivers, hating every second of the terrible taste invading her tongue. Though it goes down terribly, it sits peculiarly in her tummy and warms up her body quickly.

She reclines back into the chair, still holding the bottle with both hooves. She looks out to Equestria, letting her thoughts race on with everything that comes to mind.

The two of them repose in silence, sipping at their drinks without haste. The nighttime ambience plays well with their beverages; the stress of their argument, and the day in general, slowly unbinds its locks from their tense bodies. While not fully done away, at least they are able to relax.

A good few minutes pass. Nearing the end of her drink, Dahlia feels a confliction circulating. Though she tries to place it, she cannot figure out what type of vibe tides around Crimson. It is no what she is used to. For a reason she cannot comprehend, she cannot find it inside herself to stay angry or keep ignoring him. Perhaps it is for a few reasons, but she cannot pin them. She glances to him, down at the bottles he has relinquished of life.

“… Really taking advantage of the complimentary re-stocking, huh?” she comments.

“Might as well,” he replies simply, looking at deep blue label of his bottle.

A quiet breeze comes between their brief silence.

“You can sure drink a lot,” she comments again.

“Can drink more.”

“Geeze. With just this one I’m feeling it.”

“Not a drinker?”

“I haven’t had a drink in almost eight years.”

He looks over to her with raised brows. “Damn. That long?” She responds with two nods. “… Forgive me fer temptin’ you.”

“Oh stop. It was my decision.”

“How is it after all that time?”

“It’s gross. I don’t know how you tolerate it.”

“An acquired taste, sure. You handled it pretty well.” He points to the nearly empty bottle in her possession.

She looks to it as well. With just a moment of hesitation, she takes it up to finish it off, pulling it away with another shiver. Her muzzle scrunches. “Mh, yuck.”

“Done and done. Good work.”

She places the bottle down at the side of her chair. “It’s gonna be a while before I ever do that again.”

“Reasonable.”

His words bounce between them for a little while. They let the ambiance soak in, gazing out to the lands before them.

Dahlia looks towards the Everfree. She focuses on a particular spot – the one where the cabin is roughly located. Memories surface with the events that transpired there. What she was doing before she arrived, the time of her arrival, her plans, and how they were ruined by the ape that somehow found his way back to her.

Tracks come right after the other, her train of thought continues to accelerate until it comes to a station bearing a question. “… So what’s your first move?”

“Mean with the Horseshoes?”

“Yeah.”

He thinks about it briefly, his eyes raise to stare at his eyebrows. “… Since you mentioned the cities are accepting my kind now, reckon I’ll head to Baltimare right-off and claim what’s mine. With everythin' Gloriosa told us, gettin' a stable footin' before we speak to our mutual friend strokes me the right way.”

“You’ll be needing my help if you’re headed to a major city.” To this, he looks very unenthused. “… What’s with that look?” He glances over to her listlessly. “Don’t give me that. The badges won’t be letting you walk around by yourself, you’ll still need a pony.”

“That the case?”

“Yeah. It is. But if you wanna go do your own thing and get nabbed again, you do you, pal.”

“Never said you’re not comin’. Remember, we're doin' this without me talkin'. Won't get nowhere if I don't have a voice. But we’re doin’ things my way.”

“Your way? What’s your way?” she questions him as if he was speaking incoherently.

“You’ll find out. If you don’t like it, maybe it’s best that we don’t work together. We can regroup once I’m done so we can finally find a way to get me outta this god damn pony world.”

“At that point, you might as well find it yourself. You’re going in pretty deep with the Horseshoes. You do realize what you’re trying to do, right?” He gives her another scrupulous look. “Like, do you actually understand what you’re getting into?”

“Don’t worry about that. All I need to know is if you’re with me or without me. I'll scrap the no-talkin' strategy if it comes to it.”

“When did you get so brave about going it alone?”

“Since now. Since you almost got the both’a us killed this mornin’. What WERE you thinkin’ not wantin’ to give ‘em their charm back? Genuinely?”

“I already said why! Get over it!”

“Gettin' over it is somethin' you should learn. Suicidal fer money. If you wanna make it to El Dorado, you can go it alone. Won't be here if you're gonna try bendin' shit sideways tryin'a make an extra buck. Especially if yer gettin' me twisted in it."

Dahlia glares at him, taking no appreciation for his forward attitude. “I’m not suicidal for money. Everything I do is planned ahead of time and coordinated. Like I said, you’re just bad luck.”

“And you're full of shit.”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

“Glad we agree.”

She huffs, still feeling a little dizzy from her drink. She takes a moment to regain herself, letting curiosity rather than aggression take her. “… What’s waiting for you at Baltimare?”

“Couple’a important things. First is my treasury. Got an account registered under Gloriosa’s name, but she applied me as a holder and gave me the info I need to access it. One of hers manages the building.”

“Cool, your own treasury. How much money you got in it?”

“Don't pertain to you.”

Dahlia rolls her eyes and huffs loudly in frustration. “You don't have to be a prick about it.” Crimson shakes his head with lined lips at her childish display. “Whatever. Once you set up that account, you gonna head to the hole in the wall Gloriosa talked about?”

“Yeah, next thing after. Can't waste too much daylight, remember, the swap happens in two days.”

“You gonna try slinking the info outta the Horseshoes once we meet them?”

“Not yet. Gotta get the favors done first. Make up fer the shit that happened back at Majesty’s. Should be able to snake in after that's done.”

“…” Dahlia looks down at the floor of the balcony with reservation. “… I dunno, Crim. I still don’t like the idea of this.”

“Don’t feel forced to come with.”

“I’m not!” She barks softly. “I just…” she pauses, thinking about her next words, “… this is dangerous shit.”

“Preachin’ to the choir, Deedee.”

Dissatisfied with his resolve, she slumps back into the chair. She quickly becomes restless, contemplative, and groans in agitation. “I’m headed back inside,” she says as she rises from the chair and begins her leave.

“Hey…” She stops at the entrance of the sliding door and looks back to him. “… I’m sorry about Moobs.”

Dahlia furrows her brows and looks away. “Don’t worry about it.” She jumps through her mind to try and say something that might divert the attention away from the topic. “… What time are we leaving?”

“Early morn’. I’ll wake you. You said we can return here whenever, right? This hotel?”

“As long as we’re not followed or chased, yeah. They’ll let me back in. We just need to fetch the key from the barkeep when we do.”

“… Right. Get some rest.”

“…” She takes a brief moment to gaze across his figure. He looks farther worse for wear than she does, yet he speaks to her like she had pikes stab into her body. It drives in an emotion that she can’t explain…

… she tries not to think about it too hard. She heads inside and treks towards the bed, laying herself on top of the blankets.

‎ ‎

~~~~<

‎ ‎

Before the rise of the sun, Crimson and Dahlia are already prepped and leaving the small town of Maracas. They greet the desert expanse once more, Dahlia carrying her saddlebags full of drinks and Crimson with a make-shift backpack of cloths and ropes that carry the chest of bits behind him.

They venture out, hoping to hit the Slums before noon. Their walk is uneventful, maybe a bit hotter than their last, but full of nothing. They exchange a few words occasionally, but largely keep to their thoughts.

‎ ‎

~~~~<

‎ ‎

The roughly four-hour trail puts them back at the edge of the Slums. The smog is felt punched through, that familiar toxic air. With this sensation, the terrible memories of only two days ago ascend.

The duo waste no time recounting and proceed to Gloriosa’s door front. Zeek, posted at the front as always, gives a reverent nod to the man. Crimson’s request for transport is fulfilled swiftly. A carriage is brought from around back and situated next to him, where he and his partner board it together. He sits in the middle, even to Dahlia’s mild detest.

Bound to the city of Baltimare, the duo take to the skies and travel out.

The ride is peaceful, much more pleasant than walking through the desert. Crimson reclines back, both arms across the top of the backrest. Dahlia keeps to her corner, resting her head against the carriage door’s shoulder. This treacherous world is easy to appreciate from above.

He can still recall the first time he boarded a carriage with Moonlight. How high they went, how fast they were going. How beautiful the world looked from up above. Even now, it’s still incredible.

He finds hate festering amongst the appreciation. This land is just like his home – ruthless and unforgiving. Not for the feint of heart, save for the comfort of the civilized major cities. Everyone living in posh comfort, not having to worry about expansion or trudging through the unknown. No worries of folk always trying to kill each other.

He keeps his thoughts to himself. In many ways, he feels he has to.

‎

~~~~<

‎

The duo finally make port on the airway of Baltimare; a new, shining, unfamiliar city to Crimson – yet one he’s encountered before. Their carriage drivers sprint across the paved stone stretch until they come to a halt, allowing the carriage to be disembarked.

Dahlia is quick to hop off without using the door, coming to a soft landing with her wings. Crimson, heavier and less graceful, hops off with the chest of bits and lands with his boots loudly clanking the stone. He turns his head, giving the carriages drivers a sly nod of appreciation. They do the same before they kick into another sprint to take off again. The man admires their stamina.

Focusing on the grandeur in front of him, he looks up at the city. It’s just as modern as Las Pegasus, if maybe slightly less so. There’s obvious technologies, such as flashing signs and lights, displays, and other electrically-powered businesses and buildings. Many tall sky-scrapers make this place much less air-friendly than the other cities he’s been to, so landing in a specially designated space for it makes some sense to him.

Before they begin their walk, Dahlia reaches into her saddlebags and takes out a little note – the address to the treasury and for the ‘hole in the wall.’ Once she mentally maps out where to go, she puts the note back in her bag and begins to lead. Crimson follows just behind. It isn’t long until they pass the chain-link fence that surrounds the airway and enter the city.

To his astonishment, he sees a plethora of other humans wandering about. Kinds of all colors, hair styled in unique ways, all accompanied by a pony or more. He didn’t understand the extent of humanity’s role in Equestria, much less their place in society, but he feels his eyes opened. They truly are just pets, and possibly the most popular type. He does see a pony or two with a dog, especially around the park areas scattered about the city, but the overwhelming majority is human.

He can think of a few reasons why so many humans are currently out, but he’s just grateful he’s able to blend in better now. He’s most definitely taller than pretty much every other human, but there’s so many around, especially those dressed in very expensive clothing and hair styles, the attention is easily diverted. He feels as if everyone was throwing a ‘show your human off’ party, this change is legislation was no small act.

Dahlia guides them down many perfectly paved sidewalks, across many buildings that display products, especially clothing. She eyes the signs that label the streets and looks at the building numbers, making sure she’s headed to the right place.

Crimson lets his eyes wander as they please, feeling a bit more secure in his role. On what he can catch from random conversations amongst ponykind, money is the main player in this city.

“There,” Dahlia murmurs to him, nodding her head to a wide building with four thick pillars at the front. They arrive at the entrance, Crimson opens the glass doors for her entry. Once inside, they are met with the smell of floor wax and paper. A standard, modern clear-cut treasury with dark brown marble floors and white walls. It’s completely empty, suspiciously so, with the only bodies around being the workers.

The receptionist desk is at the front, and many booths protected by glass are behind her. The actual receptionist before them looks very happy to see them.

“Good afternoon!” she calls to Dahlia. “Welcome to Glitter Century Treasury. How may I help you?”

The two walk closer to her as to allow normal speaking volume. “Yeah, uh…” Dahlia begins, “I’d like to make a, uh… deposit?” she states unsurely.

“Splendid! Please follow the blue ropes to the right, the clerk can assist you further!”

Dahlia follows her directions and walks between the silver poles hung with thick blue velvet rope. Crimson moves behind her, noting the receptionist giving him a glance. He turns his head slightly, a gesture to acknowledge her, and she beams even brighter.

Arriving at the clerk, it’s an older stallion, with glasses that hang a small metal chain on the left lens. “Making a deposit today?” he asks with a gravel-ish, yet friendly tone.

“Yeah,” Dahlia steps aside to present Crimson, and the man takes the chest off his back and presents it to him.

The clerk hardly acknowledges the actual amount and proceeds, “Excellent. May I have the name on the account and the account number?”

Crimson sets the chest down on the ground and steps closer to the clerk. He reaches into his duster pocket and takes out a small paper with something he can’t understand written on it. The clerk lifts his glasses up and reads the note presented to him.

With a satisfied smile, the clerk puts his glasses back down. “We’ll get this cashed in for you on the double. And just from me to you,” he leans a bit closer to the glass, “that strong-box is pretty valuable. If you’d want to leave that here, you’ll see an ‘extra amount’ added to today’s deposit.”

Mildly surprised, Crimson purses his lips. He gives Dahlia a quick look, who obviously is rooting for the money. She nods repeatedly. He looks back at the clerk, delivering only one nod.

“Wise! Very wise decision, sir!” He moves to press a discreet orange button on the left side of his desk. “Summoning carriers as we speak. We’ll have a statement ready for you in a few minutes.”

Crimson shakes his head and waves his hand once.

“Ah, no need?”

He nods once.

“Very well. Would there be anything else today?”

He shakes his head again.

“It’s been my pleasure,” the stallion smiles firmly. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

Crimson and Dahlia turn in sync, trailing to the glass doors. Dahlia reaches into her saddlebags once again to take the note, memorizing the second address. She pockets it; Crimson moves to open the door for them.

Another traversal through the bustling city has them turning corners and passing towns-folk. Now without the huge burden behind him, Crimson struts with straightened posture. It adds a few inches to his height, but no one finds it all that interesting.

Dahlia turns them onto a new street. She stops briefly, making Crimson do the same, and she double-takes. With the pursing of her lip, she keeps walking. They pass a few shops in this district and stop in front of a clothing store, one with white pony mannequins behind glass at the front.

Crimson opens the door, letting her in first before following inside. Their olfactory is overtaken by more appropriate scents – perfume, cloth, and more floor wax. The shop itself is a square with a fairly high ceiling. Clothing racks, trollies, carts, and other movable presentations house all types of clothing. Much of it looks incredibly, unnecessarily expensive, and there is a number of customers about the shop looking to spend that kind of money.

“Welcome!” a cutesy voice calls from behind the counter at the far end of the shop. Crimson is starting to note a trend with Gloriosa’s subordinates.

The duo move to the counter to address the clerk. “Uh… hey,” Dahlia begins, severely lacking tact.

The clerk beams while tucking her cheek to her shoulder. “Great to see you again!~ Your articles are waiting for you in the dressing room!” She points to her left, signaling to a cloth drape that blocks off said dressing room.

The two acknowledge her coded words and proceed to their designation. Dahlia gently swats the cloth out of the way, Crimson holds it open so they both can pass. Inside, it appears another store associate is waiting for them at the farthest dressing room on the right. They approach her, and with a cheeky smile, she waves them to enter. Dahlia looks at Crimson with mild discomfort, but he doesn’t overtly react.

They push the cloth out of the way to enter the compact dressing room, having to stand very close to each other. Dahlia lines her lips and looks away from his general direction.

Without as much as a warning, a rectangular section of the farthest wall unhitches from its flushed position and descends quietly into the ground, a discrete door appears on the other side. Dahlia moves to take the handle and open it, revealing a hall that travels deeper into the building. Exchanging a glance, Crimson and Dahlia proceed.

Once they make it through, the wall silently raises up again, leaving them in the dim lighting of a few yellow bulbs tacked across the length of the hall. Crimson closes the door behind them. They traverse this hall, another warm light comes in through the bottom of a door at the far end which ends their trail. They arrive at their stop, and with a bit of hesitance, Dahlia takes the handle and opens this door.

The two are greeted with a concealed office, one with a unicorn mare dressed in business attire using her purple magic to write into parchment with a quill. She stops at her door opening, her teal eyes raise from behind rectangular glasses to stare at them uninterestedly.

Crimson witnesses glass behind her desk, glass which looks into another shop. It looks almost exactly like the shop they were just in, but the colors of the shop are inverted and placement of the clothing racks are in different locations. Customers are entering from what looks like the next street over. The discreet architecture baffles him. He assumes the glass itself is enchanted or one-way, as even though they can look into the shop, none of the customers there seem to be paying them any heed.

“Sky, I assume?” the mare calls, her voice low and a bit cold.

The man nods. “It’s a pleasure, miss Vera.”

“Hm,” her serious front presents a small smile at her name being spoken by him. “A pleasure indeed.” Her icy gaze moves to the silent pegasus. “I was expecting Axel to accompany you. Who might this be?”

Crimson looks down to her, allowing her the room to introduce herself. “Wisp,” Dahlia states simply.

“Oh? Ohoho~” Vera levitates her quill back into its pot, giving the duo her full attention. “The renown treasure hunter?”

“That’s me.”

“This is quite the treat. So no Axel. Is she with you, Sky?”

“She is,” the man states.

“Hm,” she closes her eyes once again, her enthused smile refuses to let up. “Well, I won’t pry into your… personal matters, but… this is perfect nonetheless~ Did Mary tell you anything about the quandary we have at hoof?”

“Not a word.”

“Always leaving it up to me,” she states sarcastically and holds her simper. “There’s much to go through, but I’ll try to keep it short and sweet.”

“All ears.”

Vera sits back in her chair, smile fading, letting her cold eyes drift listlessly away from them. “Rumors have been circulating rampantly about certain items of interest, some of which we’ve found already. Our High Chair members have spent millions in researching and trying to locate these items of interest. There are several components missing that make this investment seem fruitless, but some of our Brains think they’ve finally cracked this elusive egg. If you’re anypony that’s anypony, you already know what I’m talking about.”

“Let’s assume I’m nobody,” Crimson plants, though he already has an idea what she’s speaking of.

Vera leans forward, resting her chin on her hooves. With a sly grin, she speaks, “A set of lost artifacts - The Aramani Era relics.”

“The set of five?” Dahlia interjects. “Right?”

“Hm, somepony’s been doing her homework,” Vera hums. “The very ones.”

“… I had my hoof on one. I sold it to a trader outside Canterlot a few months ago.”

“Was it a sphere?”

“Yeah!” she replies excitedly. “Yeah it was!”

“Interesting. I think I know which merchant sold it to the Horseshoes. May have been yours. This might be bad news, but you were likely undercut. Severely.”

Dahlia bites her lip, not wanting to acknowledge her truth. “How much did the Horseshoes buy it off of him for?”

Vera chuckles lightly, looking away and lifting her eyes to the ceiling. “I couldn’t tell you the amount… but it was in the six digits~”

Dahlia’s ghost nearly exits from her mouth.

“Worry not, Wisp. You’ll have a good chance to net an even higher pay for your services. There are still more relics that we need in our possession. Each will be worth your effort.”

Crimson’s front is stern in contemplation. “… The belt and the necklace. Reckon Canterlot still has ‘em.”

Vera’s brows crinkle her forehead. “Indeed they do. How did you know that?”

Crimson’s eyes dilate briefly, quickly forcing himself to keep impassive amidst his accidental blunder. “She told me,” he tilts his head to Dahlia, who very astutely nods.

She continues after him, “I have my sources. We were hunting them down too, but let the idea go after a while. I guess we have a reason again.”

“A very good one, too,” Vera acknowledges. “It’s been some time since Canterlot has taken possession of the belt and necklace. You two are already familiar with what we’re after. We’re not starting from scratch, then. That’s excellent. It isn’t any of MY business, but… both of you have been a team for a while now, it seems.”

“You can say that,” Crimson responds.

“You’ve only come to know Axel recently, I suppose. The name Sky has not come up once except recently.”

“Thank him fer that. I’d prefer stayin’ below the eye, but workin’ with him made it tough.”

“He does love to talk, that Axel~” she lulls. “He has a tendency to make interesting business partners, such as yourself. A talking human.” She runs her orbs up and down his frame twice, not only emphasizing him but taking his figure in.

“Yeah. On that - has Gloriosa told you?”

“About the… ‘hush-hush’?” The man nods in response. Her pique rises ever further. “She has, quite a while ago actually. It was actually Axel’s request. He's the one who told Gloriosa to keep you 'low-brow.' Don’t worry your dear little head, not one mouth outside Mary’s reach knows about you or your ability to speak. In fact, a honcho from the northern plains asked about you not two days ago. Everypony still thinks you’re a rock-headed, over-glorified bodyguard for Axel.”

“Good.”

“Good indeed.” She plants her hooves on her desk and sits up. “Well, I won’t keep you two for any longer.” She reaches to her right, opening a drawer on her desk to retrieve a manila folder. She places it carefully at the front edge of her desk, allowing them to take it. “The five W’s are in those files. Study it and learn it like the back of your hoof.” Dahlia quickly moves to take it, as if it were to be stolen from her if she were too slow.

Dahlia opens the folder and quickly skims the insides. “… That’s it?”

“That’s it~” she repeats with a tune.

Dahlia gives Crimson a curious glance. He shrugs lightly, but speaks up to Vera to ask, “What about my ‘tools?’ Don’t suppose armaments can be found behind the desks of yer employees.”

“I’d laugh, but,” Vera grins, “you’re exactly right. Though, your provisions will be granted by somepony else. My job is to get you in.”

Crimson gives a single nod of understanding. “Don’t suppose Gloriosa provided lodging in the city fer us?”

“I don’t believe so. Not that you can’t afford it~”

Dahlia gives him a hungry, scrupulous look, and he tries to wave her off. “Right, well,” he begins to turn, giving Vera a last sidelong glace, “we’ll be takin’ our leave.”

“Then I bid you two farewell. It was a pleasure, and I pray that you succeed. Though after what I heard happened at Majesty's, I'm sure you will~”

The man gives his departure with one nod. Dahlia offers no parting of her own. Together, they exit through the obscure door.

Once they’re alone in the dimness of the lengthy hidden cement hallway, Dahlia speaks up, “So we need a place to stay. Would have been nice to know before coming here.”

“Won’t be a problem. Like she said, the price tag ain’t an issue. You’ve been here before, right? Recommend any place in particular?"

“Uh, yeah, I can. If you wanna spend half of your savings for one night. We can just kick it outside tonight.”

“How do you suppose that?”

“Because we’re just waiting on the swap, remember? Why book for a room when we'll hardly use it?”

“ And yer best suggestion is to sleep on the streets?”

“What? Does that scare you?”

He shakes his head angrily. “I just told you to cut the shit about pinchin' money, and here you are.”

“I'm not pinching! It’s called being a smart spender. It’s the reason why I was able to bail myself out of the Canterlot Dungeon. Imagine if I had your spending habits? I’d be screwed.”

“I get bein’ smart with yer money, but you take it to an extreme.”

“Think of it however you want. I’m not spending a single bit on lodging.” As he's about to further illustrate his displeasure, something appears to strike Dahlia. The mare looks up to him quizzically. “… And I might have an idea.”

“I'll regret sayin' this, but... sure. What is it.”

“So. I was here a few weeks ago for a trade. I was wandering around for a good place to crash, then I noticed a really cool looking house at the edge of town that, I THINK, was abandoned.”

Crimson’s eyes dilate. He was looking to shoot down literally anything she could have suggested and just resorted to booking a room, but...

“I didn’t wanna check because I didn’t wanna risk somepony actually being in there, catching me, and reporting me to the badges. I had a diamond effigy on me at the time, so I didn’t wanna get that confiscated. But with you here, we can at least take a sneak peek. If there’s trouble, safe to say you’ve got our backs.”

Her words drift into the air and fall onto the ground. She becomes perplexed at his sudden unresponsiveness.

“… Sooo… yes? No?” She glances up to him, seeing that he’s staring straight forward without reaction. “… Crim, you alright? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

He slowly turns his head to her, his one visible hazel eye staring very deeply into hers. “... Blue house? Off a dirt road?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. You already know about it?”

“… It belongs to the Head Researcher.”

“Wooah. Of Canterlot? Really? That little chunk of land? Hah, I’d think something bigger and fancier for the top-dog in the Robes. Those nerds get paid more than I can even imagine!”

“We’re not breakin’ into her house.”

Dahlia’s jubilation comes crashing down. “Aww, come on! It’s pretty much abandoned! I didn’t see a soul go in or out last time I was here! Plus, she’s back at Canterlot if the rumors are true. She probably left that house for dead.”

“No means no, Dahlia.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I still go and crash at her place? What’ll you do then, huh? Beat me up?”

He stops, the door that leads to the shop only a few more feet away. Dahlia continues until she stops to it, reaching to place her hoof on the handle. She feels his pressing eyes glaring at her, causing her to pause. She frowns, slowly turning back to look at him. His silent gawk continues…

Dahlia’s ears fall to her head and she lets go of the door handle, her eyes shift away. “… Alright, fine. We won’t break into her house.” Crimson slowly nods once with mild satisfaction. “I don’t get why you don’t wanna. What, she your secret lover or something?”

“Do me a kindness and get off my back.”

“Sheesh, no need to get defensive.” Crimson squints at her, resisting the urge to bark at her hypocritical remark. She doesn’t notice it, looking back at the door. “Can we at least check?”

At this, Crimson feels a sudden inner demon roil. He wants to give a flat and even ‘no’, but… something screeches at his muse. “… If it'll get you to shut yer trap. But we ain’t gonna get near.”

Dahlia rolls her eyes and opens the door. A mare from the store is there to instantly greet them, it appears that the false wall has already come down before they’ve arrived.

“Find everything okay?” the associate asks politely.

“Yeah,” Dahlia responds, blowing past her sourly. Crimson follows behind her with just as much severity. The associate looks at them with consternation, placing a hoof at her cheek, but says nothing further.

The two exit the shop without paying mind to anyone else around. Their leave is signaled by the twinkling bell of the glass door.

Back on the streets of Baltimare, Dahlia fixes their course to the outskirts. Crimson can feel the tension building inside his chest. He doesn’t know what he expects to see once he arrives. Perhaps some part deep down inside of him hopes she’s there, for whatever reason. Finally see her again.

… A stupid thing to hope. It’s best she’s not there.

He’ll find out soon enough.

Where the Heart Is

~ Equestria, Moonlight's Home ~<
April 1st, Saturday, 17:19

‎

"Crim, you alright?"

"..."

"Crim?"

"..."

"… Crimson!"

He feels her hoof push at his left thigh. He breaks out of his trance, realizing again that he is standing across the dirt path to a home shaded different hues of blue. He yearns to recede back into his own mind, but he instead looks down to his partner. They stand together without another soul for nearly five miles.

"You good? Seeing ghosts or something?"

He shakes his head slightly to wave her off.

"Stop dozing off like that, or else," she partially threatens. She then focuses on the house, smirking at it. "Not much for a royal, don'tcha think? I thought... bigger. Gold, maybe? Hehe. Cozy place though."

"Don't look like much's changed."

"Huh. Crazy to think you were in there. Was it cool?"

"Very."

She frowns up at him. "Well don't say that! You won't be able to keep me out if you hype me up!"

Letting her high-pitched rambling go in one ear and out the other, Crimson's throat feels like the desert they recently came from. He can't understand why seeing this home is making him stress this harshly. Maybe because it is only a matter of time before a maid or something appears to report them to Moonlight.

"The grass around looks nice," she notes. "Probably doesn't have thorns or ants. Napping on the fields doesn't sound too bad. Did you wanna pick a spot?"

He keeps staring at the house. He's getting progressively angrier at himself for feeling so pensive. His legs even begin to tremble. There might genuinely be no one in there.

"... Crim, you're doing it again. ... Crim." She waves a hoof up at him. She furrows her brows in mild annoyance. "... Here comes the hoof-traaiin."

"..."

"..." She rears her hoof up, ready to strike him. Even at her threat, he doesn't move. Dahlia's left brow raises. "... One." She tilts her head slightly. "... Two." She continues gawking at him for more than a few seconds. "... Th--"

"D'you..." Dahlia stops at his voice, one quivering and unsure of itself, "... do you wanna... check it out?"

Dahlia's mouth forms an 'o' and her eyes twinkle. "HAhaaalright! Hell yeah I wanna check it out! I'm dying to sleep on a comfortable bed!" Her cheer churns with confusion. "After all the trouble you gave me, why the change of heart?"

He looks down at her fiercely, causing her to shrink back quickly. "Don't worry about it. 'N you don't touch nothin'. Don't steal nothin’. Understood?"

She reassumes her posture and rolls her eyes, "Yeah, yeah.” Though her enthusiasm comes back as if it were never gone. “Come on!" she trots across the dirt road towards the house. Crimson reluctantly follows in tow.

As they approach it, he continuously glances left and right, as if watching out for the possibility of the owner appearing from the void to scold him. That would be terrible. ... Or would it? Maybe he does want that happening, if only to snap him out of this potentially horrendous decision.

Dahlia brought up a good point – why did he change his mind so suddenly? He’s racking himself with the question at every step, trying to answer the version of him that’s nagging him away. Before he knows it, he’s at the front door of the home.

The brooding man watches as Dahlia scrutinizes the door. “Any security here?” she asks.

“Not that I recall. Less they put somethin’ in while I was gone.”

“Hmm,” she pouts her lower lip. “Doesn’t look like the knob’s tampered with. No creases or bumps. Signs of traps.” She hops in place twice, patting the dirt under her. “Dirt’s solid.” She reaches for the doorknob rather confidently, the man’s heart skips a beat at this sudden movement.

Both of them proceed to jump back in fright when Dahlia’s hoof bounces right off, and an invisible shield wobbles from the disturbance.

“What happened?” Crimson inquires tensely.

Dahlia takes a moment to look at her hoof then back to the door. She reaches for the knob again, revealing the shield once more at their contact. She begins to walk around the house, silently prompting Crimson to follow her. She stops a few feet before the tall cement walls that block off the backyard. She reaches her hoof out again, and it touches solid nothing. “… A magic field,” she states. “A pretty strong one too. Guess that explains why the place hasn’t been looted yet.”

Crimson internally sighs in relief – his meddling curiosity is effectively killed, their breaking and entering being strictly denied by this shield.

“Unlucky for the egghead that put this spell here, I know how to get past it.”

The man’s eyes dilate and the intrusive desire burns again. “A bullet wan’t able to, I’ve seen it. How're you plannin' on gettin' through? You gonna try hittin’ it over and over till it breaks?”

Dahlia looks at him as if he were speaking another language. “Crim, a shield like this won’t break like that. You’re thinking of the ones an egghead can cast. This magic is different - it’s actually the type that your collar has. It's why it won't break. I’ve seen enough of these trying to protect valuable treasures. It’s kind of a pain, but there definitely is a workaround.”

Swallowing his pride, Crimson struggles to ask, “How so?”

“We’re going to need to be dirty. Really, reaally dirty.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

She grins mischievousness. “I’d say... both. Take your clothes off.”

"That's forward of you."

"Don't even start with me. Take your clothes off so you don't mess them up."

She begins taking her shirt and saddlebags off before trotting out towards the nearby beach without forewarning. With pursed lips, the man does as instructed.

‎

~~~<

‎

“This is a lot more trouble than it’s worth,” Crimson grunts.

“Trust me, it’s worth it.”

“M'I almost done?”

“Mmmm…” she hums in thought, running her orbs up and down Crimson’s body. After undressing and taking a skinny dip in the nearby ocean, they trekked back to the walls of the backyard, completely soaked so they may bathe in the dirt outside. Now, both are completely covered in mud, and still pack more onto their damp bodies. Dahlia now scrutinizes Crimson's work, judging it's worth. “… Just a little more here,” she says, removing some excess mud from Crimson’s left thigh to better coat his abdomen. He watches her do this with enough enthusiasm to starve a village. She steps back and analyzes him again, mostly content with what she sees. “Did you make sure to try and get some mud under your collar?"

"Did. Plenny, I'd think."

“Great. Now. Watch... and learn~”

Crimson watches with consternation at his partner approaching the shield again. She’s effectively a statue made of mud, not one inch of her actual body or mane is present. Standing but inches away from the barricade, she closes her eyes…

… and steps forward. Crimson feels his chest tighten.

His jaw hits the ground when she phases right through the shield like it was never there. No wobble or stress, she passes through as if immaterial.

After a few more blind steps, she opens her eyes. Her face, but a hair away from hitting the cement wall, forms a cheeky smile. She turns around, beaming at the man confidently. “Easy as cake~”

His flabbergasted expression fails to paint properly on his muddy face.

“Your turn, Crim. And remember, keep your eyes closed! You do NOT wanna go through that!”

With a pounding heart, he does as she says. His lids encompass his eyes, turning his entire face into a mud sculpture. He begins, one uneasy step after another, towards the shield.

“Keep it coming. A little more…”

He listens to the sound of her voice becoming closer and closer as she repeats herself.

“… a little more.”

He jumps slightly when something touches his stomach. He manages to keep his eyes closed, but stops and reaches to touch the object.

“You can open your eyes now,” she advises.

He does so, immediately looking down to what he holds. It’s Dahlia’s hoof, which reached out to stop him from colliding with her. He orients himself with quick glances around, noting that he made it past the shield. “… We got through,” he states with unbelief.

“Told ya’,” she prides herself.

"How in the world did this work?"

"Easy. These shields are meant to allow nature through. It's why things like air and stuff can pass in and out, or else the ponies or plants inside the shield would eventually choke to death. I guessed there would be something that needed oxygen back here."

"And right you'd be," he acknowledges, mostly keeping his veneration to himself.

"Yeah I am. So with all that figured out, all you really need to do is cover the parts of your body that the shield is manipulated to block out with something in nature. Like mud!"

"That’s a loophole ‘f I’ve ever seen one. 'N I reckon you figured this all out with yer previous mischief?"

"You know it!" She spreads her wings with pride, but quickly feels uncomfortable doing so. She looks back at them, then towards the man again. "Alright, let’s get cleaned up. Hard mud's rough on my coat.” She begins to pat herself off. Crimson does as she does, wiping off as best he can, making sure to drop the mud on the ground instead of getting it on the wall. Once they’ve deemed themselves clean enough, they exchange a look. “You wanna jump us over the wall?” the mare suggests.

“Wings muzzy?”

“Yup. Don’t wanna wait for them to dry.” Crimson nods and reaches to her, holding a steady pose in case she protests his approach. She accepts his advance, so he proceeds in picking her up from her armpits and holding her in front of him. He holds her like this for a moment, just staring at each other. Her expression rides from neutral to inquisitive, to quickly annoyed. “Can you not do this?”

“Do what?” he feints ignorance.

“Jump us over the wall before I kick your ass.”

He feels enough satisfaction from picking on her before she really gets mad. He turns her around and pins her to his chest with his right arm, squatting down to take a strong leap over the high wall. He jumps just high enough to vault over the top with his left arm, and fall back down on the other side with a muffled thud onto the grass.

They come apart and right themselves, taking in the space of the backyard.

“Woooah,” Dahlia immediately admires. Her magenta orbs dance around the many plants, flowers, vines, and bushes that enclose it. The small stream that flows between the flora still runs with pure, sparkling water.

Crimson takes it all in as well, feeling comparatively emotional. He notes that nothing had really changed since his and Moonlight's departure, aside from maybe the greenery becoming a bit overgrown. “What'cha think?”

“It’s like one of those gardens you see in Equestrian Digest magazines. It’s incredible.”

“Hell of a thing, ain't it? She did this all by herself.”

“Really? All by herself?" She looks to the man for his confirmation, which he delivers with a nod. "She had all the free time in the world. Must have been nice.” Her admiration shifts to analyzing. She looks around with squinted eyes, scoping her surroundings.

Crimson notices her intense focus. “Lookin’ fer somethin’?”

“Yeah, I’m… mmm…” She stops craning her neck, looking into the glass window of the sliding doors that lead into the house. “… There.”

The man builds concern at seeing her expound the house. She trots towards the door – the man responds by walking directly behind her. They stop before the doors; Dahlia squints through the glass and into the kitchen.

“Don’t even think about settin’ yer dirty muffs in the house,” Crimson demands.

This begets a bitter reaction from Dahlia – she shifts her squinted eyes to him. “You wanna get your clothes or not?”

“Not if we muck up M—” he cuts himself off before he utters her name, “—the Head Researcher’s house.”

“We’ll just clean it! It’s literally right there!”

“…” Crimson turns around, towards the impossibly flowing stream in the backyard. “I’ll use that water to clean up a bit. You just tell me what to do.”

“What, you can go in but I can’t? What kinda shit is that?”

“You know damn-well that mud ain’t comin’ off yer coat even if you rinse it. I can get it off my skin, but yer needin’ a bath.”

“Uugh. Why are you so sensitive about her house? You two MUST have been lovers.”

The man scoffs and doesn’t dignify her comment with a response. He strides towards the moving water, sitting down at the bank and reaching his cupped palm into it to clean off his feet and shins. Dahlia watches him with a grimace.

He rises to his feet once clean enough and shakes each leg, darting droplets of water around at the flora. He walks back to the sliding doors, dragging his feet along the grass to rub off excess water. By the time he reaches it, they are relatively dry. “Now, what needs doin’? You were lookin’ at somethin’, right?”

“Yeah. That,” she points boredly through the glass.

He peers in, scanning his eyes around the kitchen and the living room, but doesn’t catch what she’s trying to hint at. “’That’ as in…?”

“Uuugh! That! Look!” She hops onto her hindlegs and grabs his arm to pull him down. He leans down with her tug so they’re at eye-level. She points again, Crimson follows her hoof. It leads towards the counter in the kitchen to what looks like a marble floating on a metal plate. Now that he sees it, he acknowledges his mental lacking for missing it to begin with.

“The hell is that?”

“I don’t know what the eggheads call it but it’s what’s making the shield. We need to touch it to turn it off.”

“Easy enough.”

“It is,” she lets go of him and falls onto her fours. “Don’t screw it up.”

He straights himself and reaches for the handle of the sliding door, the cold metal of the handle greets his fingertips. He feels all sorts of wrong invading Moonlight’s home. Almost every part of him wants to back out and just leave, forget he ever tried this… but, there is a part of him which continues to reap what Magnifying had told him.

The Consortium used him for their gain. Perhaps he can use them in return. Equal exchange.

He proceeds to open the door. The air inside the home is cool, it hits him in a weak gust. He steps inside, the soles of his feet greeted by the comfortable carpet of the living room. He treks past it, setting foot on the tile of the kitchen. He continues until he reaches the counter next to the fridge, the one that holds the marble which spins slowly and emits a barely audible hum. He marvels at this little piece of magic which is somehow able to produce such a powerful shield.

He reaches out and taps it with his index finger. The humming becomes slightly louder for about two seconds before the marble descends to the metal pedestal it hovered over. It slots itself perfectly onto its little throne and it remains in silence.

“Is it off?” Dahlia asks from the backyard exit.

“Should be,” he calls back.

“Great! Now go get our stuff, would ya’?”

He sighs gently through his nose. He turns to exit the kitchen and proceeds into the hallway towards the front door. He undoes the two locks that kept it shut and steps outside of the home’s cool air and into Equestria slightly warmer evening. He walks around the left side of the home, retrieving the items they left on the ground.

He walks back with them, arms extended out with their belongings balled up, trying not to get any mud on them from the rest of his body. Once he returns inside, he tosses their things onto the floor of the kitchen tile and locks the front door again.

Visibly satisfied at seeing her bags and shirt safely inside, Dahlia asks, “You know where the shower here is? I wanna get this crap off me sooner than later!”

Crimson steps back into the living room and returns to the kitchen. He stops at the magic marble and taps it again. It slowly whirls and spins in its spot, before it rises into the air in its original position. Nothing other than this happens, but he assumes the shield is up again. He faces Dahlia, “It’s upstairs. I’ll take you to it.”

Dahlia doesn’t dispute him, leading him to approach her and reach to pick her up again. She eyes him sternly in case he tries to pull something funny again, but he doesn’t. A simple lift and bridal hold against his chest, and he’s off towards the staircase that leads to the second floor.

Dahlia keeps her eyes averted from the man who carries her, putting up a discontent look the entire time she’s held. He knows she is doing this for more than one reason.

At the top of the stairs, Crimson turns to the left and opens the door at the end of the hall, pushing it in. The bathroom is revealed, and Dahlia can’t be more excited.

Crimson pushes the curtains of the shower aside and sets Dahlia directly into the tub.

"Thanks, now how do you work this thing?" she inquires, looking to the four star-shaped valves that have red stickers in the middle of them.

"You use this one to turn on the shower," he points to the top left, "this one to turn on the tub," he points to the bottom left, "and the two on the right change the temperature of whatever yer usin'."

"Hm." She reaches over to the shower faucet and turns it to the right - the pipes work their magic to release water from the shower head. "Huuh!" She leaps back onto Crimson's chest as ice-cold water pelted her. The man instantly holds onto her, looking down at her with a raised brow. She notices his stare and glares back at him. "What!?"

"What did you expect?"

"Shut up!" She peels herself off Crimson and leaps back into the tub. With grace and elegance, she sticks to the wall of the tub and reaches around the falling water to turn the opposing faucet. The water takes a few seconds to warm up, but once it does, the mare moans in relaxation.

She sits, eyes closed and happy while the water hits her.

Crimson glazes his tired orbs on her wet form. "Think you've got it from here?" he effectively wakes her up from her daydream.

She looks over to him, her cheeks tinting lightly at realizing he was staring at her. "Yeah... I do. ..." Something glimmers in her eyes, something the man has come to notice when a thought strikes her. She turns her face away arrogantly, closing her eyes. “Now how about you get outta here while I clean up.”

He notices this shift in attitude, but decides not to prod it and follows up with a quip instead. “Thought you liked attention.”

Dahlia pretends to gag then waves him off repeatedly with her hoof. “Out. Or I'll throw mud at you.”

Crimson does as she asks and steps out, closing the door behind him. The pipes passing water into the shower creates a cadence of white-noise that provides some comfort.

...

He finds that he’s just standing at the door doing nothing. He actively keeps himself from rubbing his mud-coated hair from self-awareness. With some time to himself, he wonders what he should do. There’s a hundred things he wants to do right now, but he doesn’t want to risk getting anything dirty.

One wry thought does strike him though, one that is very close by. He looks down the opposite end of the hall. He sees it, the closed door to the bedroom. He figures he’s already at his worst – he’s invaded her home. Not much else to fall down to at this point.

He walks to it, each step unsure of itself. He passes the staircase, steadily coming to the entrance of the door.

Witi-witi-witi-witi-witi!

Crimson stops at a muffled wailing suddenly starting from inside Moonlight’s bedroom. He enters a brief panic, but quickly composes himself once he remembers what it is.

“Crimson, what’s going on!?” Dahlia's drowned voice shouts from inside the bathroom.

“Nothin’ to worry about!” he calls back with a hand next to his mouth. He lets out a breath. “Just an old friend,” he mumbles, continuing his path. He reaches for the door handle and pushes the door in, his hazel eyes glaze the inside of the room.

It’s exactly as it was. Not a thing out of place. The bed he woke up in, the rocking chair Moonlight was sitting in, the desk that sits the large device which is currently freaking out on him. It’s all the same. It’s comforting in a weird way. Maybe the ANA forgot who he was and now hates him again. If that's even possible. Moonlight's engineering is far beyond his scope of comprehension, he supposes.

He walks up to it slowly, scanning the room as he walks. He looks down at the machine, the wailing only gets louder as he stands near it. It’s very, VERY annoying, but it makes him smile slightly.

He remembers which button Moonlight pressed to turn it off, so he takes his finger to it as well – a yellow one on the left side with text under it that he can’t understand. It presses with a satisfying ‘click’ and the machine ceases its ruckus.

Peace and quiet.

His eyes trace along the desk, to some test tubes and measuring cups neatly organized next to the ANA, and they continue until he’s facing the circular window above the bed. Light fails to shine through the heavy black-out curtains hung above it, making the room much darker than it should be.

He stands here in the middle of the room, staring up at the curtain doing nothing but letting his thoughts roam.

Before he knows it, the comfortable faint background noise of the shower across the hall stops. Sounds like Dahlia’s finished. He moves himself out of the bedroom and closes the door behind him, stopping himself at the rails over the staircase and waiting next to them while the mare finishes up.

A handful of minutes later, the door opens with a little bit of steam trailing out alongside the mare. She has towels over her head and wrapped around her tail. “Heh, I haven’t had a hot shower in like… I can’t even remember. This house doesn’t look like much, but any house with a working water heater is an instant favorite.”

“That I can agree on. Things are a rarity to have where I’m from.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it, they’re stupid expensive here too. Welp, shower’s all yours.” She happily trots towards the staircase, passing him by and heading to the first floor.

He watches her until she makes it down. He proceeds to take her place in the restroom, closing the door slightly, but ensuring to leave it a crack open. He carefully moves the shower curtains to—

…

The man frowns very deeply at what he sees. A massive clump of black and grey hair stuck around the drain cap, along with splotches of mud along the tub and wall. He sighs his annoyance out and steps in with his muddy underwear, reaching down to pick up the hair clump and rub it on the wall of the restroom, so at least none of it can make it down the drain while he uses it.

He moves to turn on the shower valve. The plumbing system works its magic to jet warm water through the shower head, already pre-heated from Dahlia's use. The floor of the tub becomes quickly riddled with mud, but he’s careful with where it lands so it may be drained properly. He takes off his soaked underwear and sets it near the drain, looking to get it cleaned along with himself.

He notes a bar of soap and two bottles sitting on a metal rack hung from the shower head. He isn’t quite sure which bottle is shampoo and which is conditioner, but he’ll try to figure it out.

He proceeds to work his hygiene. As he showers, he uses his hand to swat and direct water to the stains Dahlia left to clean them up.

‎

~~~<

‎

Crimson steps into the living room, towel wrapped around his waist with his damp underwear in hand. He sees the mare sitting on the three cushion couch. Her attention is briefly turned to him, as she was examining her right wing. They make brief eye contact, her muzzle scrunches because of it, and she quickly focuses on her wing again.

“What?” he prods.

“What what?” she retorts with furrowed brows.

“Gave me a funny look.”

“Funny looking guy deserves a funny look.”

“Suppose,” he concedes and tosses his underwear on top of his clothes. He takes a seat on the two cushion couch, ensuring the towel is secure before getting comfortable. It's very brief, but he notices the mare shoot him a glance again.

He decides not comment on this. A silence takes control of the air around them. Crimson’s eyes tiredly stare forward into the kitchen, focusing on nothing specifically. Dahlia continues prodding at her wing, scrutinizing each major feather.

The man feels comfortable in this quiet. Being back in this house feels almost natural, but he tries to keep that thought as far away from his muse as possible. This is all wrong, wrong in all the ways one could think. Still, it doesn’t detract the placidity he feels. He has half a mind to lean his head back and take a nap.

“… So what’s her name?” Crimson breaks out of his mind to give her a raised left brow. Dahlia looks towards him when he doesn’t give an immediate response. “The pony who owns this place.”

“Thought you’d know already.”

“Wouldn’t be asking if I did, genius.”

“You seem to know a bit about her.”

“Yeah, and none of those things are her name. Don’t ask me why it’s such a secret, but that’s how it is with anypony high in the Consortium.”

“None of yer governin’ officials give their names?”

“Except the ruling prince or princess? Nope.”

Crimson bites his lower lip in brief contemplation. “… Her name’s Moonlight. Moonlight Wish.”

“Moonlight Wish?” The man nods to her echo. “Huh. Thought it’d be something cooler.”

“Not obligated to like it.”

“Still, pretty weak name for the position. Is she cool at least? Pony like her has got a lot to boast about.”

“She don’t boast. More of a reserved type. Don’t like to make a scene.”

“Reserved, as in…?”

“She’s shy."

“Dude, seriously? The eggiest egghead in the fancy tower is shy? That’s so lame! If I was Head Researcher for those nerds, I’d be throwing my creations left and right like, 'Look at this! Uh-huh, I made this shit! Bow before me!'”

Crimson rolls his eyes and glances off elsewhere. “Guess there’s a reason you ain’t.”

“Yeah, because I’m too cool for a stupid Robe position like that.”

“They’re likely the reason you’ve just used that water heater you love so much.”

“Yeah, one good contribution for us common-pony. The rest of the shit they do is keeping the royals rich and powerful. All their fancy magic and crazy do-dads they’ve got come from those eggheads, so that no one usurps them.”

“This leads me to believe you don’t like ‘em very much.”

“Eh, couldn’t care less about ‘em. They’re as lame as any other heading figure in Equestria’s shitty government.”

“Robes don’t find the pillagin’ type fond neither.”

“Pfft, is that what they’ve told you? Their job only exists because of ponies like me. They love poking their gross stubby little horns at stuff, but they don’t ever think about where it comes from. At least the Black Horseshoes tell you to your face they wanna use you for their profit. They don’t put up an act like those scummy snobby royals.”

Crimson pauses any potential rebuttals he had.

“Plus, the Horseshoes pay waaay more than them, so they lose there too.”

“On that,” Crimson begins, “who were you tryin’ to get that ball to the day we went to Canterlot? Some Robe there?”

“Hah. Wouldn’t dream of selling them shit, not after they've undercut me multiple times. Fuck those guys.”

“Then who?”

“There’s a courier I know that lives there. He smuggles stuff and buys artifacts. I was able to find him once I bailed myself out of the Canterlot Dungeon.”

“Mm. The one you ‘n Vera discussed?”

“Yup, that guy. He’s weird, but he’ll take almost anything off your hoof.”

Crimson accepts this information and nods.

“Oh yeah,” Dahlia starts, “what was that noise earlier?”

“It was Moonlight’s child.”

Dahlia’s eyes dilate briefly in disbelief. “She left her kid here!?”

Crimson waves his hand, unable to keep as smirk off his face. “Not that type’a child. She made a magical box that finds stuff. Found me and didn’t like it. When I first got here, it did the same thing. I turned it off.”

“Where?”

“In her bedroom.”

“Huh. I kinda wanna see it.”

“Long as you don’t break it.”

“Yeah, need to take these towels back anyway.”

She begins to rise from the couch, but suddenly stops with a startle when Crimson commands with a stern, “Wait.” She turns to look at him with wide eyes. “… You left a mess ‘n a half in the shower. If you wanna ever use it again, you clean up after yerself.”

After finding out what has him worked up, she huffs into the air and frowns at him. “You were gonna use the shower anyway!”

“Don’t mean I’m gonna clean up after you.”

“I don’t get why you’re making this such a big deal.”

“Yer a pony, not a pig. Clean, or you ain’t usin’ it.”

Dahlia’s eyes raise up and she shakes her head. Crimson stands up to follow behind her. They both ascend the staircase but split off – Dahlia comes to relinquish herself of the towels while Crimson returns to the bedroom.

Once they regroup, Dahlia’s first reaction is to the brick of technology Crimson’s stands next to. “… What the heck is that?” she asks.

“Moonlight calls it an ‘ANA.’”

“Pft, well that’s cute,” she comments sarcastically. She approaches it, inspecting it from up close. “So what does this thing do?”

“It’s supposed to read magic from afar and locate it. She told me she made it because of the anomalies that were appearin’ in Equestria.”

“Ah, yeah, those things. I’ve heard all about ‘em but not once have I ever seen one.”

“I have.”

Dahlia throws him a scrupulous look. “What did it look like?”

“Like somethin’ out of a fuckin’ nightmare. It…” he stops briefly, trying to find the best description for himself before projecting it to her. “… Looked like silver… tar. Or thick ink. But looked like what a failin’ radio sounds like. Static. ‘F you can imagine that.”

Mild consternation takes Dahlia’s expression. She scans the many buttons and displays the ANA harbors, finding it be a marvel work. “… And this thing can find them?”

“Should be able to. Ain’t know how to work it except makin' it be quiet.”

Dahlia lets the knowledge sit for a moment. She lets out a mouthy yawn, smacks her lips, then focuses on the bed nearby. “Pretty big bed just for one pony.”

“That it is. Good for the both of us.”

“Hah! As if. I’m not gonna share a bed with you.”

Crimson raises a brow at her. “I still reek ‘r somethin’? It’s big enough fer you to keep to a side, ‘n I keep to mine. No harm, no foul.”

“That doesn’t matter! I just… don’t wanna!”

"I ain't gonna argue you fer a place to sleep. If you really want it, you can have it."

"Then that settles it." She huffs and looks away with furrowed brows and closed eyes.

"Reckon it does. 'Specially since you've been awkward all day, don't wanna make you more uncomfortable than you've already been."

She pins her eyes on him as a blush takes her face. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Dunno. Just an observation."

"Well that 'observation' is all wrong! I'm not being awkward, you're just being dumb!"

"I don't gotta tell you yer face is redder than a cherry. You know what I'm talkin' about."

"Dude, I'm not awkward, especially not around you! What reason would I even have to be awkward?"

"That's what I'm wonderin'." He turns around and begins to walk to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dahlia interrogates frustratedly, trotting behind him to catch up.

Crimson cranes his head to peer over his shoulder. "The couch, where do you think? You said you wanted the bed."

"We're not done talking! I'm not awkward! I don't know what's making you say that but cut the shit!"

Crimson turns his body completely, looking at her with something akin to worry. "I'm tryin'a leave, you're the one keepin' me here. Why's this buggin' you so much?"

"Because it pisses me off when you talk outta your ass."

"Deedee, calm down. You're makin' this a bigger deal than it should be."

"I'm not! You're just--!" Her face becomes further flustered when she can't think of something to bark back at him that isn't just a mindless insult. "You're just saying things to piss me off, and it's working!"

"Do you want an apology? I can say sorry if you really want me to, just calm down."

"No! I don't want an apology! I want you to stop thinking I'm awkward!"

He lifts his palms up to ease her, "Alright, alright, you're not awkward."

"I don't think you mean it."

"How the hell m'I supposed to mean it, then?"

She lines her lips, glaring up at up at him so emotionally that her eyes glimmer. "We share the bed! You keep to your side, and you don't be awkward!"

"Dahlia, seriously, this is gettin' weird. I take back what I said, and you can have the bed. We need to get rest fer tomorrow, not be doin'... whatever this is."

"Rrh," she clenches her teeth and lowers her head. She turns around and gives him her back, huffing into the air. "Yeah, whatever then. Get outta here, see you in the morning."

Crimson looks at her backside, raising his left brow with terrible confusion. "... See you in the morn'." He about-faces and takes his leave, opening the door. He looks over his shoulder to eye her one more time. She refuses to look his way.

He exits and closes the door gently behind himself. He takes a lazy stride across the hall and down the stairs, returning to the living room. He sets himself down on the middle cushion of the three seat couch, reclining back to put both arms on the backrest.

He cannot understand what just happened... though, he supposes that is not fully true. He knows what got into her, but he is not sure why she became so emotional and dead-set over it. He knows for sure that he has said some dumb shit to her, and her to him, but none of it resulted in an end which caused her to ignore him like she just did. He anticipates by the time they wake up the next morning, she would have let it die. He remembers how much she stuck to the whole 'jumping on her' incident when it happened, and he hopes it is not another situation like that.

It should not be, he thinks. This is not nearly as bad as that was... hopefully.

He looks out to the subtly overgrown garden outside, the sunlight becoming thin. Beautiful amber shadows dance across the array of colors the flowers display. Such a wondrous home with all the love and care it could have ever wanted. And he took its owner away. He feels guilty for it. Everything that’s happened up until now is basically a direct consequence of convincing Moonlight to move away from here. The more he thinks about it, how everything’s aligned up until now, it all feels like his fault.

Maybe because it is. He lets these gnawing thoughts comfort him as he lies down on the couch, taking one of the purple pillows to rest his head on. He listlessly stares at the light blue popcorn ceiling above, waiting for tomorrow to come as quick as it shall.

‎ ‎

‎

‎

~ Equestria, Moonlight's Home ~<
April 2nd, Sunday, 6:29

‎

"Up, Crim. Up."

He listens to her voice, but seldom reacts.

"Crimson."

He feels her hoof touch his shoulder. He sighs through his nose, only now feeling the urge to fade into sleep. His blackened eyes pry open, forcing him to reacclimate to reality. He was so close to sleeping...

"Come on, up up. We've got an hour till our contact shows up."

Crimson hauls himself up, gritting his teeth at the effort. He looks down at the towel that still surrounds his waist, then over to the clothes that are piled on the tile floor. He stands up, fixing his towel and he approaches them. He turns back to Dahlia, who is still staring at him. "... You mind lookin' away while I get dressed?"

Dahlia's ears perk up, as if not taking this into consideration at all. She does as he says. "We overslept, so hurry."

'We?' he thinks. Great to know she rested well. Along with not getting any sleep himself, she's acting as if they're on overtime. A quick glance at the clock in the kitchen shows they still have over an hour and a half before their meet

At the very least, she doesn't seem to be bringing up last night's debacle - possibly too entertained with today's venture to care or remember it.

To the hasting mare's request, he removes the towel and neatly folds it, then takes his clothes and dresses himself as quickly as he can. The plush ball which rests in his inner pocket feels puffier than normal, but he chalks it up to the fact he had his duster off for the night. Emotions resurface at its feeling, but he keeps them all inside his heart and mind.

"'M good," he announces.

Dahlia turns around, seeing him fully equipped. As if judging him to see if he was lying or not, she grins in approval. "Alrighty, one last thing before we take off." She trots past him and heads towards the spinning marble. She reaches and holds her hoof on it. It stops spinning at her touch, but remains still as she holds onto it.

...

Crimson watches her with stipulation.

...

Suddenly, Dahlia's form is encompassed with a thin aura, and it disperses as quickly as it came.

"The hell'd you do?" Crimson presents his concern.

"Shush. Do what I did and hold onto it," the mare commands while stepping aside.

Crimson doesn't have the heart to question her this early in the morning, so he steps in and does so. He takes his index and middle finger both to the marble which resumed its spin. Again, it halts at his touch.

About ten seconds pass before the same thing happens to Crimson, the same light teal aura surrounds his frame and then pops away. He delivers an unapproving stare to his partner. "And that was...?"

"The shield knows you now. If we come back, we won't have to do that mud thing again. We can just walk right through! Just like we're gonna do right now when we leave!"

"... Hmh," he hums and he looks towards the spinning marble. It recognizes him now. That is... good, he supposes. "We headin' out now?"

"Yeah, come on. No more time to lose."

With these words, they take their leave from the house. Out the front door and back into Equestria, they trek towards Baltimare for their oncoming task.

Act 11: The Black Horseshoes

~ Baltimare, Back Alleys ~<
April 2nd, Sunday, 7:51

‎

"You nervous?"

The man looks down to his tan colored companion. Even though she asks this, she herself looks skittish. "A little," Crimson responds, mostly hoping to sympathize with her.

"Yeah, me too. Still, you've got a look on your face. What's wrong?"

"Just... can't imagine the fact I'm mixed up with gangs again. Feels like a joke."

"Far from it, Crim. The info you're looking for would've put you in this spot eventually."

"... Yeah."

The duo fall silent, standing on a lonesome corner on one of Baltimare's many alleys. The city bustles with life on this refined morning, but other denizens are void in this shaded, forgotten speck.

By now, the duo have become acclimated to the rancid smell that was coming from somewhere deeper in the alley. They hope it has not smeared itself on them.

Both become still and diligent once three figures suddenly emerge from around the corner. This team is composed of two ponies and one human--

Crimson's eyes break open. The human looks like... no, it is him, wearing a spiffy suit. This duplication of him glares at him very seriously.

"Wh-- ... What the...?"

A hard-pressed blink is enough to break himself out of his stupor. He looks again. What he thought he saw is no longer there. The human he now sees is short, stocky, and finely dressed in the same suit he envisaged before.

The two ponies are mares, one a pegasus and the other a unicorn. They as well are dressed in formal business wear. Their appearance as a whole does not demonstrate uniqueness, they look like any other resident of Baltimare.

The three come in for the approach, nearly colliding with Crimson and Dahlia. The duo begin to walk as the other human and pegasus come to a halt.

Crimson and Dahlia now walk alongside the unicorn, who stands in between them, just as she had with her previous group. A seamless exchange of bodies. Now, the three set their sights to Baltimare's airport, where a carriage being guarded by three pegasus stallions awaits their arrival.

Once they reach their boarding, the three suited stallions give harsh grimaces to the on-comers. Once they catch the deep purple eyes of the unicorn which guides the duo, they are quick to relinquish their consternation and dash to their reins. Hitched up and ready for take off, they await the three to take their seats.

Crimson steps in to open the carriage door for the mares. The quiet unicorn shoots her listless orbs towards him, her expression subtly emitting something akin to amusement. She boards first and sits on the far right. Dahlia shrewdly tilts her head to him, signaling to sit between them. He takes her hint and comes in next, and she follows last.

Once boarded, the stallions look back to the unicorn, and she responds by delivering a slow but firm nod. The stallions neigh in preparation before kicking off in a sprint, spreading their wings and taking to the sky.

The man feels eyes falling upon him - Dahlia's. He glances to her, noticing that she's giving him a concerned look. He knows why, but can't bring it up now. She looks away and so does he.

Another opportunity to admire the view, Crimson thinks. One more relishing in Equestria's beauty before it shows him its darkest side.

‎

~~~~<

‎

Beautiful as ever is the land below him. As of now, the carriage has been effectively flown over Equestria's entire width - the setting sun agrees with the time they've traveled. He has become mildly concerned for the stallions piloting the carriage, but judging from their excessive stoicism, they're superhuman. Or superpony. Their haul has hardly tired them at all, it seems.

East to west, they’ve flown up and over much of the landscape, including Canterlot. Valleys, towns, plains, mountains, Crimson marvels at how diverse Equestria is from one stretch to another. The western oceans are now visible past the clouded horizon, including a few fairly large harbor cities that he has never seen before. He gives thought to their destination, seeing that they are returning to a familiar location - the Whinneypeg Mountains.

A collection of stress in his throat drives him to swallow discretely.

Though, as they continue their travel, he is washed with relief when the particular spec on the mountains he fears seeing again is missed and forgotten. Even from this vantage point, it cannot be seen. The amount of protruding earth and dense clouds hide it from any mind or memory.

With a little more confidence, he focuses on the mountain range. He begins to assume one of the larger mountains is to be their destination. He could not be certain, especially since their unicorn benefactor hasn't been keen on speech whatsoever, and neither has Dahlia.

He understands why Dahlia does not speak. The very same reason his silence is also commanded. Recalling what Gloriosa told him, after Vera, it's a ballpark beyond her scope of influence. Everything action now is to his and only his discretion.

His previous assumption is answered soon enough. Their trajectory completely fixes towards the aforementioned mountain. About a mile away, details become clearer and clearer. Something he finds interesting are the structures propped at the mountain's zenith. Their general existence isn't too captivating, he's already seen a Featherline base using the same tactic to build on a mountain. What draws his attention is the fact that it looks completely totaled. Many structures, tents, lumber and spikes, all of it looks destroyed or burned. It's as if the base was raided and ransacked.

Still, they head towards this base. Their approach is steady and quick, within a few minutes they are entering the mountain's threshold. Their descent surprises him, they do not land inside the torn down base, and instead fly just past it, down towards one of the mountain's sides. The pilots of the carriage circle around and ease up their speed, taking an unassuming cliffside as their landing.

Crimson catches glimpse of the unicorn to his side reaching and gripping onto a handle on her side of the carriage. Dahlia seems to note this too, and she does the same. With no handle to grab onto, Crimson leans back and puts his arms across the backrest, behind the heads of both mares. Again, from the corner of his eye, he notes the unicorn giving him a peculiar glance due to his actions.

SKRRRRRRRT!

The stallions using a very rough tactic to land, skidding on their hooves and flapping their wings against their speed. It causes the carriage to jut the passengers forward, but luckily everyone aboard braced themselves for the landing. With some whiplash, everyone gets acclimated and sits back up.

At lifting his head and studying his surroundings, Crimson is stunned to find a metal door on a archway made of rock, one which appears to lead into the mountain. He swears he took in the face of the mountain as they were landing, there was definitely no door. But now that he's here, it's... right there. He doesn't know if the whiplash is causing him to see things, but shooting quick eyes to Dahlia, she appears just as flabbergasted. It makes him feel slightly better about being this confused.

No words are exchanged as they come off the carriage. The unicorn mare uses her cobalt-colored magic to open her carriage door and extend the staircase. She primly and properly comes down, step by step, until her hooves clop on the rocky surface of the cliff. Crimson follows after her. Dahlia comes down using her own carriage door, skipping the stairs.

The pilot stallions give serious stares to the unicorn, as if awaiting her approval. The mare’s uninterested gaze roams for a moment, looking for any intrusions. Once she's satisfied, she nods once to the stallions just as before. The trio huff and grunt, kicking off into another sprint off the cliff. It looks like they just ran off the edge and killed themselves, but after about four seconds, they appear from below and fly off into the distance with impressive speed.

Dahlia is the first to take her eyes off the pilots, directing her attention to the door. When she does, she notices the unicorn mare staring directly at her. Her profound violet eyes put Dahlia in a cautious state. She doesn't know who this unicorn is, but if there is one thing she’s certain of, she’s a Black Horseshoe - through and through. Out of the many things this unicorn might be capable of, getting Dahlia killed on command if she happens not to like her is one of them.

Crimson stiffens at the silent staring contest, par with Dahlia's rising anxiousness. Despite his desire to knight over Dahlia, he knows to restrain himself. While some disagreed with him, he learned back home to wait for the problem to come, not start it by saying or doing something stupid. Most of the time, what seemed like a problem ends up being the opposite.

"What's his name?" the inscrutable unicorn unexpectedly asks, her voice calm, youthful but impersonable.

Dahlia takes a moment to internalize her question, clenching her teeth briefly so she doesn't sputter incoherently. "Sky."

She seems satisfied with Dahlia's response, noted by a meek smile taking the left corner of her lips. She begins to walk, directing Crimson and Dahlia to do the same. She fearlessly approaches the heavy-looking metal door, encompassing it in her magic. Some very hefty-sounding locks are clacked and crocked on the other side, coming out to four. Once undone, the door hiccups, as if a terrible weight was lifted off of it, and it comes to a slow, hulking opening.

Once open, Crimson sees that this entrance leads a few feet into the mountain to another door made of metal. This one doesn't look nearly as industrial as the first, but still sturdy and more technologically advanced. The three step into this vestibule of rock and metal. The unicorn closes the hefty metal door behind them. Crimson glances over his shoulder, having a closeup at the massive locks getting turned, clamped, and clicked into place.

In front of them, technology presents itself on a panel to the right of the door; some sort of terminal with buttons and a blue... eye? Crimson cannot quite figure out what it is, but it is definitely not organic. This 'eye' is round, smooth, and reflective. It has a dense blue color that radiates a very passive light. It feels like it stares back at him.

The unicorn mare presents herself at the door's front, and without the need to interact with anything, the door hisses some steam from the sides, then begins to rise. Audible mechanisms work to lift the metal. Crimson can't begin to fathom what the fuck any of this applied science is, but he feels this isn't the end of it. He can’t help but get Dahlia’s reaction, a sly glance her way shows she’s just as befuddled. Furrowing his brows, God only knows what awaits them inside.

Another hallway made completely of metal, lit by tan LEDs, takes them into the guts of the mountain. The unicorn leads the way.

Stepping into this lair, Crimson and Dahlia witness this to be a hidden base carved into the rock. The hallway they walk through ends with a few quick steps, revealing a labyrinth of rooms, mechanical doors, halls, ponies in lab coats, others in suits, some wearing nothing, and a plethora of magical contraptions. Everything is painted greys and whites, the lights add a yellow-ish tint, and it all looks unnaturally pristine.

Dahlia feels her hooves quaking at each step, but she fights to remain composed and calm. What makes it a little easier is the simple fact that no one seems to care about her or Crimson’s presence, everyone is too busy with something or another. As a matter of fact, what everyone else is doing is much more interesting.

Behind glass windows, offices and labs are dotted throughout this web of a facility. Said laboratories have experiments of all sorts happening in them – she even swears she saw a cocky-looking earth pony levitating in place and gyrating without any apparent magic manipulating him, whilst others nodded in approval and wrote into clipboards.

Black Horseshoe members of all types are scattered about doing a plethora of unimaginable activities - most probably illegal in more than one way.

The unicorn continues to guide them, much less impressed than Crimson or Dahlia about her surroundings. They pass through a multitude of steel doors that open without touch, eventually leading them into a modest laboratory that has one single pony working inside.

Said laboratory has standard lab equipment, including flasks, beakers, the works. What is most alluring is the large screen in the very middle of the lab with a terminal on it, showing all sorts of statistics and information in Ponish. As the three enter, the pony’s attention is directed to them. It’s a stallion with a short mane, colored mostly grey with thin streaks of blue. His coat is a light grey color as well, just a tad darker than his mane. He seems upbeat, curious, and somewhat excited to have visitors. To Crimson, he looks oddly familiar.

“Doctor Kaleidoscope,” the unicorn mare calls.

“Tch, come on, Bon,” the stallion replies with dissatisfaction.

The mare named Bon stops and clears her throat, “… Doctor Kleid.”

“Better,” he hums in satisfaction. “Welcome back! Gimme the good news!”

Bon approaches him and reaches into the chest pocket of her blazer, retrieving something small and circular. It kind of looks like…

"Collateral's comm button?" Crimson thinks as his eyes dilate behind his hair.

“Haha! Good, good, good! Knew I could count on you, Bon!” The mare nods in response. “Nice, good, and great! Tell Faykur about your job well done, and make sure to let him know Six-Three-P-Seven~”

A very satisfied smile takes Bon’s lips. She nods once and steps back. She presents both Crimson and Dahlia with the wave of her hoof. “These two are for your… ‘other’ project.”

“If you brought them, I’m sure they’ll do perfect! Thank you, thank you, Bon! Go on, spoil yourself! You earned it!~”

Bon nods again, her smile growing slightly wider. She exits in silence, her simper prominent and her chin held high. Crimson and Dahlia are now left alone with this lab-coated stallion. He looks at them both in anticipation.

“It’s very great to meet you!” he speaks directly to Dahlia, practically ignoring Crimson. “I’m sure you heard, but please, call me Kleid.”

“Uh, hey. Name’s Wisp,” Dahlia replies.

“Ooooo, hoohoo~ Now I see why Bon brought you. Wisp~” He nods repeatedly. “Treasure hunter! Responsible for a number of our relics and artifacts! Now I can put a face to the name!”

“That's... yeah. Guess you know about me."

"Sure do! I've worked on numerous projects involving your acquisitions! Remember that studded platinum banana?"

A spark ignites in her memory, visibly contorting her face in remembrance. "Yeah. Yeah, I do actually! Wow, how long ago was that? Like five years ago?"

"Six! It had one of the juiciest enchantments I've ever seen to this day! We have yet to name it, but it works as a composite-wide auto-monomer when held, which allows for absorption of any organic substance with at least a ninety-five percent genetic compatibility ratio!"

Both Crimson and Dahlia stare at him in stupefied silence.

"... Which basically means you physically absorb your own kind to be immortal!"

Now they react, where Dahlia is very much shocked and Crimson suppresses his emotion. "You... absorb your own kind?" Dahlia inquires.

"Indeed! If I held the banana and I touched you, a ponysapien just like me, which means we're genetically similar," he leans in and murmurs through the corner of his lip, "you would turn into a fleshy blob as most of your cellular compounds travel into my body and become absorbed, restoring my aged or damaged cells to keep me youthful! Notice, this is only really effective if you absorb somepony younger than you. It doesn't exactly work if you're trying to fix old with old, y'know?"

Dahlia has zero response to him, only complete and utter shock.

"Ha! I'm boring you with the details!" Kleid throws his hoof. "Anyways, point is, your finds are incredible, Wisp. A lot of our recent innovations in technology are in due to your discoveries!"

"Uh... thanks?"

"No! Thank you! It's great to know I have a good hoof at my side! It's safe to assume your human there is also a valued asset?"

Attention is now brought to the silent man. Dahlia gets closer to him and reaches her hoof around his waist, pulling him towards her. "Yup! Whatever you need, he's good for it."

"A very interesting specimen! Has he gone through any somatic enhancements? He sure looks like it!"

Dahlia finds herself stumped at this question, finding an astonishing inability to answer it directly. "... Uuuh... I'm... not sure? He was shipped over to Baltimare already like this. I-I'm not sure if..."

"If Gatten's Brains already toyed with him?" Kleid finishes for her.

"Yeah! They probably did, knowing them."

"Pffyeah! Always the Baltimare shipments. They really like getting their grubby hooves on everything. But! That's besides the point! As long as he can get the job done, that's what matters!"

Dahlia silently sighs in relief at accidentally bullshitting her way through that. "You can bet on it."

"Then let's talk business!"

"Let's."

"Good and great! So! Any questions or concerns about what Keeler told you?"

Even though Dahlia never met the name in question, she recalls what she read in the files, letting her eyes drift to the left. "Yeah, but... I'm curious about the honchos. What's up with them? Is there a reason they're acting like this?"

"Oh, pff, yeah. Looong story. Doesn't surprise me you don't know since you're not family blood. Since we do have a little bit of chit-chat time, and I do love telling stories... here's what's happening~"

Dahlia smiles, giving him the stage by keeping quiet.

"A lot of internal hoofticuffs between the Horseshoe leadership. It all really boils down to the Four Doyens wanting to work everypony over."

"Who are they? The Doh-yens?"

"They're last remaining grandsons of the original Black Horseshoe founders. Those old coots are riling everypony up trying to gather even the tiniest piece of power they can. Rumors have been spreading for years about what their plan is and what they're doing, but honestly? It's super obvious. Me and some of the other Brains have been tasked to acquire certain... 'goodies' for them, and they don't like to add the 'why' to their demands. After the third tackle, we knew what they were after. It's actually relating to what I was telling you about earlier!"

"... Immortality?"

"Right on! Immortality! Now, don't tell anypony I told you this, buuut... we don't think their plan is gonna woOOooork~"

"Why not?"

"Because! They're going about it all wrong!" he barks rather heatedly. "Their method of choice for their supposed 'immortality' breaks so many constants of the continuum that it would never work!"

"... W-What's wrong with the method they're using?" she almost doesn't ask the question due to Kleid's rising emotion.

The stallion freezes, staring off at nothing. He slowly, very slowly cranes his head towards her, giving her a progressively unhinged look. "... What they're using?" His smile cracks just a bit wider. "... TIME!"

His shout startles Dahlia and she hops back. Crimson remains in place.

"Time! Time is what they're using! Do you know how STUPID that is!? You can't use TIME to be immortal! Your physical form traverses through the continuum and DOES NOT CHANGE! Their withering corpses will ROT in tartarus EVEN IF they jumped back and forth! ASSUMING that's even possible with these relics! Have we tried telling them that? YES! Do they listen? NO! They just want the quickest way to gain as much power as possible! And the Relics of Aramani are their solution! Have they even considered the fact that the relics amount to ONE TOTAL ARTIFACT!? AND THERE'S FOUR OF THEM!? NO! Because they're stupid to! What are they gonna do, take turns sharing it!?"

Dahlia's ears lay flat on her head as her dilated eyes and deep frown stare at him hyperventilating.

But as if nothing ever happened, Kleid composes instantly and smiles. "But, despite their absurdities, at least they provide us with meaningful work! Dissecting these ancient magics is such a treat! It's incredible how much talent was lost because of the Great War! It makes me fear another battle happening again and making us lose what we've discovered in this age!"

Dahlia's inner conflict of too much information at once and intimation by this Brain keeps her silent for a few seconds. Luckily for her, Kleid keeps speaking.

"So because of the arrogance of the Doyens, much of the Horseshoe family is split between bowing down to them and getting spoiled with as many riches as they could ever want, or! Pretending to still be apart of the ilk while deviating as much as possible until they can find a way to successfully break off! Me? I'm happy where I'm at. I think the same could be said for most Brains. We can't afford to miss out on such succulent history!"

"So, uuh... I guess you'll need me-- us," she glances back to Crimson quickly, "... to uh... get the relics. That's what Keeler told us."

"Uh-huh! Uh-huh!" he nods repeatedly with enthusiasm.

"We're getting paid for all five relics?"

"Not quite! We are already in possession of one of the relics, the hourglass. Though it was destroyed during its acquisition, our lab was able to repair it and mend the enchantment some time early into February. We are missing the other four right now."

"Was there an order of which you wanted first?"

"Grrreeaat question! There certainly is a relic we should obtain first, for I have much worry. It's a grey metallic band with many tiny holes in it, fits on the horn of a unicorn! The Ring of Conteriima - the relic of the mind and space! It is in the possession of an ex-Brain, his name is Keeper Alonne. I fear that it may have not survived his tampering.”

“What, is he trying to break it or something?”

“Basically! Last I’ve heard, he’s learning enchantment reversal so he can take the power for himself! Fortunately for us, it’s an extremely rigorous procedure that few have mastered, so it gives us possibly years worth of time. Though, it’s unfortunate, Keeper was once a great mind for the Family - he was a pioneer in human research. But, like many, he fell victim to the clutches of whatever magic he was absorbed in, and it has been many months since he's defected along with the relic. It’s sickening. We of brighter minds should know above all else that magic is volatile! It brings nothing but chaos!” He turns to the left, suddenly putting up a sultry smile. “But that is why it is sooo beautiful~” He faces Dahlia again, frowning. “It is important we acquire the relic in his possession first.”

Dahlia acknowledges him with a firm nod. “Can do. Are we gonna need anything special? Or do we find him and just clock ‘em?”

“Hmm, direct confrontation may not be suitable…” he falls into silent pondering, “… unless…” Dahlia furrows her brows at him. “… Hehehe… yeeeessss.” He turns around and trots towards one of the large metal cabinets at the farthest end of his office next one of the desks. He opens it and skulks through it, letting out a resounding, “Ah-ha!” He retrieves something, but stays facing away. “Is your human trained to understand Ponish?”

Dahlia quickly glances to Crimson, seeing him highly dissatisfied with the remark. Still, they both play along. “Yeah, he is.”

“Excellent!” He turns around, holding multiple things. They catch what they see to be bracelets and two small black pieces of tech. The pieces are immediately familiar to Crimson. “Take them!”

Dahlia approaches him and takes one bracelet and ear piece first, looking at them curiously. She puts the bracelet around her left upper foreleg and still holds the earpiece. “What’s this thing?”

“That is a two-way prompter! It takes vocal waves and uses resonance magic to locate the other prompter and cast a tiny vibration spell on it, mimicking the initial vocal wave!”

“So this thing basically… lets me talk to somepony from far away?”

“Precisely!”

She still looks at it skeptically.

“It goes in your ear!”

Her eyes go wide briefly, feeling a bit stupid for not catching on. She places it in, tucking it snug in the inner crease of her left ear. Dahlia moves to take the second set from Kleid and gives it to Crimson. He takes the earpiece and slots it in himself while allowing Dahlia to wrap the bracelet around his left wrist, buckling it on.

After fitting, Dahlia faces Kleid again. “What’s the bracelet—DO!?” Her heart nearly leaps out of her throat when Kleid suddenly charges a magic bolt and fires it at her. To both of their surprise, Crimson steps in instantly to take the hit.

It’s Crimson’s turn to be impressed, seeing the magic bolt bounce right off of him as his bracelet pulses his entire body with a faint purple shield. The wry bolt hits the glass window of the lab and disperses into nothing, window completely intact.

Glares from Dahlia and Crimson are thrown to Kleid. “Does that answer your question?” he snidely remarks.

Dahlia, still a bit sour at the mouth from the scare, huffs and nods. “Yeah, I guess. Don’t do that.”

“Hah! Sorry, I can’t help it! I do that to everypony I show the magical refractor to!” He pushes down his giddy happiness to sober up. “Good reflexes on that human, definitely has some sort of perception accelerator. So now! You’ll need that refractor to stand even the slightest chance against Keeper. His offensive magic is very powerful, so if we negate that, we only have to worry about his goons!”

“Goons, huh?” She looks to Crimson with a smirk.

“Indeed, he is currently in a Sleeping Talon base as he conducts his work! So you’ll have to get through them, not including Keeper’s humans!”

“Huh,” she hums with much less appeal.

“And be warned! His humans are magically enhanced! Some of the strongest in the field!”

“… Oh,” she states stumped. Crimson’s brows twitch. “Are we getting any help?”

“Help? Hah! You are the help! You have the strength and cunning to get the job done!” His happy, peppy expression begins to churn slowly to a serious, pop-eyed glare of judgement. “… Right?”

Dahlia grits her teeth and rears her head back, feeling as if he is looming right over her even though he’s a few feet away. “Damn right we do!” she expresses with pseudo-confidence.

“Grreat! I like the confidence! Remember, if you feel you need additional equipment, feel free to ask! Our resources are well-put for your success!”

“Good to know,” she says, wiping off a bead of sweat from her forehead. She looks down at her bracelet. “Nothing else I could really think of.”

“What about your human? Is he specialized in any weapons or tools?”

Crimson reaches into his duster, taking out the pistol that sheens under the lab’s amber light.

“Hah, wow! Is that a second-gen Dart Flinger? Pretty neat tech! We have first-gen darts in stock, but I do think they fit the magazine! What are the dimensions, two inches by half an inch?”

“Uuuhh…” Dahlia’s confusion is luckily pushed aside when Crimson offers the pistol.

Kleid takes it into his teal magic and clicks the button on the side with it, taking out the mag and releasing the top-most dart. He sticks his tongue out and inspects it. “… Mm... hm… … yup! Give or take less than a centimeter! Only real difference between these pikes and the first-gen ones is the engravings and brand labels. Not that engravings give any tactical advantage!” He slots the dart in and slides the mag back, letting the pistol click before levitating it back to Crimson. The man takes it from the air, hiding it away in his inner duster pocket. “I’ll get you a few magazines for your human there! Be right back!” Kleid trots out of his lab, the metal door opening by itself and closing the same way behind him. He is seen pass by the window before disappearing into another part of the base.

The two sit in silence for a moment. Dahlia isn’t sure what to say, and even if Crimson could speak, he couldn’t find any words either. After a profound mulling, Dahlia speaks the only thing she feels. “… We’ve really gotten into some deep shit, huh?” Crimson nods very slightly, barely noticeable. “You think we’ll survive?” Crimson nods again, this time more firm. Dahlia can’t help but smile a little at the man’s resolve. From his confidence alone, she feels slightly better. “… Yeah, we got this.”

Kleid appears on the other side of the window, holding small rectangular white and orange boxes in his magic. The door opens and he steps through with a happy trot. “Lookie what I fooound!” He presents the boxes with a wide grin.

Dahlia tilts her head and reads the text on the branded boxes. “Dart Flinger pikes… six mags by fourteen rounds… barbed, level-two penetration rating… neuro-paralyzing?” She questions with a scrunched muzzle.

“Yes indeedy! Looks like we still had some modified pikes in stock! These badboys will punch through light armor, stick more effectively, AND! They cause immediate nervous system shock and lock up the target! Mind you, these darts still work with the power setting. The target will die if set to lethal. The tranquilizer setting will neutralize ninety-five percent of targets for roughly a full day. It's up to your discretion to keep it up or off. But if I had a say, might as well keep it up! Better safe than sorry!”

Crimson absorbs this information. He reaches his hands out to take the boxes, which Kleid levitates them onto them, totaling to four. They’re not too big, he can likely fit them inside his outer duster pockets. He takes two in each hand and does so, they slip right in and make themselves at home. He won’t be able to put his hands in his pockets like he’s used to, but it’s a small price to pay, he thinks.

“Good, good, good! Remember, if there’s anything else you need, you let me know! I'll be sure to run you two through our plans tomorrow! Lots to cover, but all to ensure your success. I recommend getting some rest until nighttime, it’s best to strike when they’re vulnerable! We’re taking the “Sleeping” Talons very seriously! Haha!”

Crimson almost smirks at the stupid pun, but Dahlia is way less impressed. “We gonna bunk here for tonight?” she asks.

“That you are!” his horn glows and a button next to the cabinets is pressed. Steam puffs out of metal pipes formed like an archway just beside it, and the metal walls lift to reveal a modern sleeping quarters on the other side.

"We’re taking your room?”

“Ooh, don’t worry about that. I won’t be needing it tonight, I’ve got a HOT date, hint hint~” He raises his brows twice with a grin.

Dahlia stuffs her disgust down, “Uuh... thanks.”

“Complimentary snacks and beverages in the pantry cooler! My casa is your casa!”

“Gras-e-as?”

“Haha! I would try to keep it going, but that’s all the Sponish I remember! Now I need to get ready for my date! It goes without saying, but,” he leans into Dahlia, glaring her deeply in the eyes. The mare steps back again with ears laying flat on her head. “Do not touch anything in the labor-ah-tory.” He zips back, smiling and waving. “See you two tonight!” He trots off, letting the metal door sound off his exit. As he passes by the window, he is still waving.

Dahlia feels her throat tighten, only released once he’s fully gone. She sighs deeply, “What a fucking nut-job. It’s always the eggheads, I tell you.”

She proceeds past the archway and into the room lit up by white lights. The room is a light pastel blue and white, with smooth marble floors and tiled walls and ceilings. There is a bunk-bed on the right, one a bit too small for Crimson’s size, a nightstand with a clock and a single rose in a pot on top, a single-seat couch to the immediate right, a free-standing clothing rack on the far left, and the door to a walk-in pantry to their immediate left.

“… Cozy,” Dahlia states sarcastically. She proceeds in, flying up to the second bunk. She sits on the edge of it, letting her hindlegs hang off.

Crimson steps in after her. Once the sensors on the archway detect no more bodies, it closes behind him automatically. It startles him somewhat, but once he notes a button exactly like the one Kleid pressed on this side of the room, he figures this is normal. He swings himself to the couch, sitting down on it and reclining back with a sigh. He holds the side of his head with two fingers, letting his tired hazel eyes stare into the void.

Dahlia examines the bracelet that is still on her leg. She notes it has very, very missable grooves, and sheens with faint purple magic when put under direct light. “Think this place is sound-proof?” she asks, turning her orbs to Crimson. He shrugs. “… Don’t wanna risk it, huh?” He shakes his head. “… Probably a good idea.” They revert to hanging in silence.

They idle together, Crimson keeping himself entertained with his thoughts, Dahlia with anything of interest she can find. Once she’s bored of the bracelet, she looks at her wings. Bored with her wings, she starts to analyze the room. Once bored with that, she falls onto her back and sighs her boredom out.

Only now does she realize that Crimson staying quiet isn’t the blessing she thought it would be. Even though all they really do is argue and banter, it passes the time. She might even say she misses it. Maybe. Is being bored better than being angry? She cannot answer herself. She finds that she cannot answer a lot of introspective questions. She finds great displeasure at this internal realization.

“There a light switch or something?” she asks into the air. Crimson breaks out of his mind and glances around, looking for the switch. He finds it just behind him, next to the archway. He reaches up and flips it down and up quickly, flickering the lights. “Cool. Mind turning it off for me?”

He does as she requests. The room becomes pitch black for a moment before a soft strip of amber light turns on at the very bottom of the walls all around the room to provide a faint bit of light.

“Hmh,” Dahlia hums, mildly impressed. “Cozy.”

Crimson reclines back again, resting his head against the cold tile wall. He stares up at the top bunk, ready to let himself drift back into thought. That is, until he sees a cute little mare’s head pop up.

“You don’t wanna lay on the bunk?”

He shakes his head twice. He lifts his hands and makes his palms parallel before shrinking the distance between them.

“Yeah, that’s true. No way you’d fit on it comfortably.” She pouts her lips, dreading the silence that eventually engulfs the room again. “… Well, I’m gonna get some shuteye.”

Crimson lifts his palm at her, signaling his ‘goodnight.’ Her eyes drift listlessly to the left. A steady exhale comes from her nose and she lets herself drop onto the pasty-white sheets. Her magenta orbs stare past the ceiling, trying to keep her brain from doing things like think self-consciously.

Crimson had noticed her restlessness. He thinks it’s coming from a menagerie of things, most obviously due to being in a technologically advanced facility controlled by the most notorious gang in Equestria. He figures they could gas him and Dahlia while they sleep, in the possible event that they already know who he is. He thought his disguise worked well, and maybe it does, but being this close behind the line is making his survival instinct work in overdrive.

He tries to get some rest, already having been awake for over two days. He’s bound to be able to get some sleep today, he will give his body no choice.

He closes his eyes and stresses to relax. Whatever awaits him tonight, he’ll need to be ready for it.

Camisado

~ The Black Horseshoes Research Facility No. 16, Kaleidoscope's Office ~<
April 3rd, Monday, 2:47

‎

"So, simplest put," Kleid speaks, "if we round the left corridor instead of the one on the right, the staircase you encounter leads directly to the second level, which is precisely where his lab is located! Mind you, the corridor on the right will still lead to the second level, but you'll have to traverse through an elbow where the mess hall is located. It'll consume more time, and we want to avoid the nighttime snackers!"

"Got it," Dahlia states firmly. "Is there really nothing on his patrols?"

"Nothing further. We have the construction blueprint of the facility, but nothing on his actual patrols. Like everything in life, Keeper has become a shrouded mystery of unpredictability. He used to send us threatening letters or scrolls about how great he and his new base is, but it's been some time. This is the first time we’re sending anyone to actually infiltrate his facility, and we're working with all we have. You'll have to adapt as you move. My recommendation is to take advantage of our throw-projector and guide your human. He is hyper-intelligent, so issuing commands as you keep a watchful eye is how I personally would tackle this. But you still have the option to enter together. You have the ability to physically defend each other, but the throw-projector has an immensely detectible magic signal which would get you caught if you used it inside the building. Ups and downs to both tactics. Watch each other's back with limited vision? Or send your human in and watch his back with a wider eye?"

Dahlia debates her options, eyes darting left and right small distances. She looks up to Crimson, completely forgetting he is unable to get input from him. She pouts to him before looking away. "... Yeah. Having the intel advantage is the smarter move. I think I'll watch from outside."

"With you, I agree! A much wiser decision! Now, we should get you two on the way. The shadow of night stretches only so far! Is there any last-minute arrangements I may accommodate you with?"

Dahlia looks up to her partner again, finding no qualms. "Nah, we're good."

"Then please follow me!"

At his command, the duo walks behind the ecstatic stallion once he trots off. They exit his lab and navigate through the daunting facility once more. Despite the time of night, there is still plenty of shenanigans being had all over. Research and advancement never ends to these ponies, it seems.

They are lead into another lab with similar design to Kleid's after turning a few corners and passing a number of doors. Inside of this lab, much less equipment is found, but instead stands a large circular platform with metal arms that surround it, making some sort of capsule-esque device that spans from floor to ceiling. The metal which constructs it looks very old and tested, but sturdy and complete. Aside from this piece of tech, a single desk with many papers is placed to the very left in front of the entrance. One mare sits and writes into parchment with her orange magic, looking very invested in what she's doing.

At the sound of her metal door lifting, her intense focus is broken. She delivers a wide beam when she sees Kleid step through, along with the two behind him.

"Good morning, Cosma!" Kleid calls to her.

"Good morning, Kleid! Your heroes, are they?" she replies, looking back at the pair - though mostly at Crimson.

"They sure are! If we can get Wisp the throw-projector, they'll be all set to go!"

"On the double!" the mare named Cosma rises from her desk and heads to the large device on the far end of her lab. She opens a metal closet just like Kleid's which is placed next to it, throws it open with her magic and retrieves a rectangular brick-like technology. With a smile, she trots towards Dahlia and offers it, "Here we go! One sixty-six hertz throw-projector at your disposal!"

"... Thanks?" Dahlia moves to take it with fallen ears. She carefully holds it in one hoof, it's not too big, maybe about the size of a standard cutting board, but it's surprisingly light.

"Remember, Wisp," Kleid begins, "you only have a limited amount of time before you're detected once you tap into their wards, depending on the strength of Keeper's counter-active resonance magic detection system. We estimate it should be enough time to get your human in. Did you need me to explain how to use it again?"

"You just... hit these buttons," she points to them, located on the farthest left and right sides of the device, "to change the ward. The middle one to turn it on and off. And angle this stick here--"

"The antenna!" Kleid corrects.

"-- yeah. That. You jiggle it," she taps a protruding metal rod on the right side of the device, "to get a better signal."

"Yoooou got it! Perfect!" Kleid begins to stomp his hooves in celebration, and Cosma seems intent in following along and clopping with him. "And now, I'm proud to present an old relic of the past that will be assisting you in your endeavors! The Transponder Machine!" he lifts his hoof to point at the bulky technology that spans from ceiling to floor at the far end of the lab.

"Sure looks fancy," Dahlia states skeptically.

"Far from it, actually! It's as primitive as metal and magic gets, yet this decommissioned device was one of the reasons pony-kind was able to survive the Great War! The Transponder Machine teleported troops to and from other parts of Equestria! Notice, this machine is now irrelevant due to advancement in magic technology. A scroll you can keep in your pocket can do what this large hunk does with much less stress!"

"Hm. Then why are we using it if there's better ways to get around?"

"A very fair question, my fellow inquisitive mind! You see, most modern methods of teleportation, while more effective and less resource intensive, rely almost purely on magic instead of machine! With so much reliance on magic, it's much easier to leave a detectable trace behind. In essence, we are trading discretion for efficiency. With these transponders, it's the opposite. They're magically silent and take no skill in the arcane to use. As long as you know the channel to another transponder and are capable of flipping a lever, you'll be set to go! The downsides, aside from taking a lot of metals to produce, is they teleport only one unit at a time and are very loud. The loudness has been resolved by placing each transponder in an underground, soundproof cement room. The single unit issue has never been solved, even after much trial and error. This is why they are now effectively forgotten about."

"Makes sense. So none of the other Black Horseshoes use these?"

"Correct. I would go as far as to say they've been completely forgotten about. Anypony who used them has now died if not from disease then to age. Even if word was passed down from one generation to another, nopony knows the channel codes except Cosma and myself."

"Indeedy!" the mare adds joyfully. "Fun fact! My grandfather and his ponies were assigned to demolish these and put the resources for something more useful. He was very fond of these machines, since it was HIS grandfather who assisted in their construction! With his cunning, he tampered with every manifest that had information on the transponders, and over time, the Family simply forgot about them!"

"Haha! I always get a kick out of that story!" Kleid taps his hoof amidst his laughter.

Visibly weirded out, Dahlia tucks her chin slightly. "... So... basically, nopony at all will know we're using these. Right?"

"Right on the mark!" Kleid nods. "And just for your information, neither myself or Cosma will use them. If you see a transponder activate without your doing so, assume it's something you'll need to kill. But the chances are slim to none, taking everything I said into account!"

The ominous instruction makes Dahlia hesitant, but she nods. "Just making sure, but these things don't need a unicorn, right?"

"Every machine auto-charges by using the lever to rev the kinetic converter!" Dahlia responds by delivering a blank stare. "They don't need a unicorn to power them."

"Cool."

"We're going to prep the transpoder for your travel! We have pre-programmed the machines you will be using to communicate with one another, so you don't need to enter the channel manually. I'll ask once more, just to make sure we've covered all our bases. Any more provisions to be acquitted?"

Dahlia gives a confident shake of her head, "We've got all that we need. So we just get the relic and run back to that thing and relocate outta there?"

"Yes! But please--!"

"Don't get followed, yeah. I know."

"Good and great! Cosma," he directs to the mare who had been staring at Crimson the whole time. "If you please!"

"Right away!~" She turns around and quickly trots to the large device, arriving at the left side of it and flipping a hefty switch from down to up. The machine roars to life instantly, glowing and pulsating with a bright blue color. The mechanisms behind the platform emit small magical beams of energy around it like a sun, and the platform itself has little grooves that pulse with magic as well. "Ready and waiting!"

Dahlia looks to the excited Kleid once more. He returns the stare, his smile widening. "I pray for your success!"

And with that, the two walk towards the platform. Crimson is pointed by Cosma to enter first, and with Dahlia's reluctant approval, he does. As soon as he steps in the platform, a blue magical aura surrounds his form. It dances on him, quickly vibrating up and down, and soon begins to encompass his form. It becomes difficult to look at him from how brightly he begins to shine.

WzZOOOooM!

‎

~~~<

‎

"Nnh," Crimson nearly stumbles over, his boots clack on metal then cement, trying to not lose his footing. His light-stung eyes reacclimate to the darkness that surrounds him. He notices that the machine regurgitated him forward, forcing him off the platform, and now he's in a completely different location. The transponder worked. Unfortunately for him, it feels just as disorientating as being blinked by a unicorn, a displeasure Celestia forced him to feel.

He doesn't have much time to take in the fact that he's essentially inside a cement box underground before the transponder spits Dahlia out next.

"Yh-Wooah!" the pegasus fumbles.

Crimson crouches down and catches her as she stumbles on her hindlegs, catching her mid-fall as she plants her hooves on his chest.

He sees her magenta orbs completely dilated because of the light, giving her a moment to adjust, just as he did. Her pupils grow in size in real time. She shakes her head and looks at Crimson.

"Quite a ride, huh?" he smirks.

At realizing she's being held by him, Dahlia's cheeks turn red and she pushes him off. He lets go and stands back up, still smirking. "Feels like I just looked at the sun for an hour." She squints and looks around, noticing exactly what Crimson did. They're inside some sort of cement box dug underground. She spots a metal ladder built into the wall that climbs up to a hatch on one of the corners of this room. "That's our way up."

"Looks like it."

Dahlia reaches into her saddlebags and takes out the two ear pieces. She hands Crimson his and sticks her own into her left ear. She fishes through her saddlebags again to retrieve their bracelets, offering the man his. Once they have their accessories, they share a glance.

"You ready for this?" Crimsons asks.

"Yeah. You?"

He simply nods.

Dahlia lets her gaze fall to the ground, letting a moment pass between them. "... Hey, uh... are you sure you're okay going in there alone? I just kind of... decided it. Without asking you first."

"Not like you could. 'N don't worry, I agree with our mutual partner, it'd be smarter to keep one of us watchin'. I'm better at doin'. Works, don't it?"

"Guess it does..."

Crimson takes in her lack of confidence. He crouches back down and levels his face with hers. This sudden equalization of their heights visibly weirds her out. "As long as I got you watchin' my back, I ain't got nothin' to fear."

His words flip around her mind and heart. It takes a second, but her expression lifts. "Damn right you don't. You've got Equestria's best eyes looking out for you. Nopony else can say that."

"Hell no they can't," he says while rising with a smile. "C'mon. We've got a relic to nab."

She confirms his words by nodding and directing herself to the metal ladder. She flies up and touches the hatch. It lifts easily with some dirt coming in from above. Once open, she flies out and lands outside under Equestria's moonlight. Crimson jumps up, skipping most of the ladder, and jumps from the end of the ladder again to hop out of the hatch. He too lands on the dirt, taking in his surroundings.

They see that they're in between trees and brush, a forest-like environment in an upper part of a hill. In the midst of the night, Dahlia spots a landmark that illustrates to her where in Equestria they've landed - a massive waterfall behind them a walkable distance away. "The Neighagra falls," she speaks to herself.

"That body of water?" Crimson asks, looking off to the landmark.

"Yeah. We're in north-eastern Equestria. Base of the Crystal Mountains." She turns and moves towards the brush that blocks off the eastern view of the land. Peeking through, she sees that the hill they're on slopes down, off towards a cliff edge before the hills and mountains end. There's a base made of cement and metal near the edge, surrounded by tall trees and brush that conceal it fairly well. No lights or obvious signs of technology makes it easily missable, especially during the night. "... Sleeping Talons have a lot of balls building this close to Consortium territory."

Crimson comes down behind Dahlia, looking over her and peeking through the hole she's making with her hoof. The man doesn't notice it, but the mare tilts her head away from him slightly, her cheeks heating up again.

"Don't look too big."

"Kleid did say most of it is underground, doofus. Of course it won't look big from the surface."

"Right." He stands back up and takes out his pistol, inspecting it. "You wanna get started on that bobble of yers?"

She backs away from the brush and sits down on the grass, letting her saddlebags come off. She skulks through them and retrieves the throw-projector. "Remember, Kleid said we're tight on time once I start snooping." She reaches up and taps the device in her ear. Seeing her do so, Crimson does the same. Their earpieces flash a tiny blue light in them before it fades and remains dark. "Hello, hellooo."

Crimson hears it come from her physical mouth and from the tech in his ear. It's still as jarring as he remembers it. "Loud 'n clear."

Dahlia hears the same, finding a more excited reaction to it. "Man, this stuff is wicked! Hello, helloooo~ Hello, hellooooo!~ What does that sound like?"

"Like the voice of a gorgeous angel lullabyin' me to sleep." Dahlia's face paints reservation as she glares at him. "If that's what you sound like makin' a tune, I bet you've got a beautiful singin' voice."

Dahlia's lips tremble and she stammers, "Wh--Sh-- No. Stop being weird, dude."

Crimson shrugs, not backing off from his statement. He looks satisfied with his armament so he pockets it back in. "I'm headed in. You've got my back."

Still shaking off the embarrassment, she huffs. "Yeah. Go get 'em, tiger."

Crimson steps past Dahlia and pushes through the brush, making his descent down the hill. Under the cover of night, he blends in like a shadow. His boots crunch and occasionally slide on the moist dewy grass. It smells like it has recently rained, giving a pleasant smell to his surroundings.

As he comes closer to the base, he keeps his form low and begins to use trees and brush to conceal his movement. He notes that there's no gate, at least not at the front. The entire perimeter is surrounded by tall chain-link fence which is barbed at the top. He's curious as to the fact that there's no entrance, but he remembers who owns the base. When every member of a species is able to fly, some things won't apply. He'll have to figure something else out.

He plants his shoulder onto the bark of a tree not two meters away from the fence, analyzing it up and down. He sees a few bodies on the other side of the fence much farther in. From what he can take in, no one is patrolling near the fence, just around the concrete buildings inside. The enemy bodies are all griffons dressed in skin-tight suits of dark purples, blacks, and blues - it makes them difficult to see in the night. He focuses his vision to its farthest extend, not wanting to potentially bump into one of them in the darkness.

Analyzing enough, he safely assumes no one will come out to inspect the fence. He spins on his shoulder off the tree and runs towards it. He comes down on one knee, looking at how it is buried. He sees the mesh isn't cemented into the ground, unlike the support poles. Easier for him.

He reaches for a random link of fence near the bottom before its buried and yanks on it with slowly building force. The metal clinks quietly from the subtle disturbance and is steadily uprooted from the ground. The dirt and grass cracks and pops at the metal emerging. Once a section from the bottom end of the fence is pulled out, Crimson takes his other hand to bend it out of shape. His cheeks puff up and he grunts, forcing the metal to contort.

He huffs and lets the fence go, having made a perfect obtuse upside-down U-shape at the bottom of the fence for him to crawl under. He gets down on his fours and does so, having successfully infiltrated the base. He dashes to the closest cement structure, looking to be some sort of storage out-house. He hides at the corner of it, peeking towards the rest of the base.

"I'm in," Crimson whispers barely audibly.

He is replied by a brief moment of silence.

"... Alright," the piece in his ear delivers Dahlia's response. "I'm gonna start tapping into their wards. Get ready."

Crimson remains on standby.

"... Wooaah... I can see them. This thing is nuts. ... Gimme a sec. ... Mmmm... ... ah, there we go. They have three guards watching the outside. Where are you?"

"Cement rectangle, got a sheet metal roof. Corner, smaller than the other buildings."

"... Okay, I see it. You're at the left corner. You have three griffons between you and the door. Two posted at the front, the other is circling the main building. Doesn't look like there's any out back, so you got that space to play with. I'd say... stick to the left side of the fence, and take it until you're at the middle. You'll be able to catch the patroller if you hide behind that crate next to the wagon."

"Got it," Crimson acknowledges, seeing exactly what she's pointing out to him. He turns and quietly runs around the storage shed, keeping along the fence. Once he loses the protection of the shed, he crouches down and keeps running, using the randomly placed construction materials and movable storage objects to hide him. At this point, he's close enough to hear the griffons at the front talking amongst each other, but not close enough to understand them.

He reaches the carriage and skids on his boots to hide behind the crate on one knee. He takes out his pistol and holds it with both hands. He goes through an internal debate, one which comes and ends in less than a second. His thumb flips the weapon's switch upwards.

"... Circling around back," Dahlia calls. "Give it a second."

He awaits her order.

"... He's taking your corner."

He removes his left hand off the pistol and holds it firmly with his right.

"... Now!"

Crimson spins out from the side of the crate and grasps the griffon behind. Their beak digs into the palm of his hand as he restrains them. He puts his pistol to the struggling griffon's neck and fires a quiet shot. The pike lodges deep into their neck, practically disappearing all the way in. The griffon immediately begins to twitch and tremble from shock, becoming limp in less than two seconds.

He takes the body and hides it behind the crate, resuming his approach.

"... Good one," Dahlia calls, her voice audibly frightened from the display. "... Just leaves the other two."

Crimson stands up straight and begins to casually walk towards the front. Their voices become closer and closer.

As soon as he rounds the corner to the main building, they hardly notice him before he fires two quick shots into both guards. They, too, tremble violently and croak before hitting the grass with a thud, dead as quick as if he shot them with a real gun. Maybe quicker. He looks at his dart-flinger. He grins slightly at it, admiring the modified rounds granted to him.

"... You're in the clear."

Crimson steps over the bodies and opens the front door, pleasantly surprised that no security chimed out his warning as of yet. He'll count his blessings for now.

Entering the facility immediately puts him in front of a staircase that walks him down. He takes it as steadily as he can, but his boots clattering on the cement makes too much of a peculiar noise.

"No one up ahead. You can move faster."

That's a relief, he thinks. He speeds up his descent, his steps crescendo until he hits the bottom which has another door blocking off the first level. He opens it, revealing it to be a set of hallways labeled by rock-etched signs in a language that isn't Ponish. They're dimly lit by spread out ceiling lights, with over half of them turned off while the building sleeps.

"Keep going forward. There's gonna be a door on the right before you turn the corner. I think it's a break room, I can't see inside. Check the window, there might be someone in there."

He nods to himself and takes the hallway in front of him. He walks carefully and cautiously, constantly glancing around himself in case he missed a body. The end of the hall draws near, and so does the window in question. He paces his steps very carefully, standing in front of the door. He stops, glaring at the window. He slowly leers his upper body to peek into it--

Cl-click

The metal door opens inwards, a sleepy griffon with a coffee in her one claw having opened the door. Her heart stops when a tall black shadow looms over her, one who looks equally as shocked as she does. The corners of her mouth tremble. The last thing she sees is the end of a barrel encompassing her vision.

Pwf!

Once the dart is lodged in between her eyes and she convulses, Crimson quickly reaches in and grabs the coffee mug she holds before it falls and breaks on the ground. The griffon hits the floor without much of a ruckus. Crimson steps in and uses his boot to push her corpse behind the wall under the window. He swerves between tables and chairs towards a sink at the back. He looks at the sink, then the coffee. ...

He takes the coffee up to his lips and takes a few sips of the hot liquid before pouring the rest down the drain and setting the mug peacefully inside it. He turns around and closes the door, keeping on his trail.

Once Dahlia sees him emerge from the breakroom and back into the hall, she asks, "Holy stars, that was close. You alright?" The man nods. "We're getting closer. I'm not sure how much time we have left, but maybe we can get you there without any alarms. Take a left from here, you'll get to the staircase Kleid was talking about."

He acknowledges and walks to the end of the hall, stopping briefly at the corner to peek at both sides. With no oncoming traffic, he continues and swerves left to the stairs. These stairs lead him down to a short connecting hall that turns him around to go down another set of stairs, effectively making it two sets of stairs conjoined a short u-turning hall.

"Wait," Dahlia suddenly commands before he makes it to the bottom. "Shit! Two coming! Go back!"

Crimson immediately turns and darts up the stairs, skipping most of them with hops. He props himself up against the wall in the connector hall before the second staircase, listening and waiting for their approach.

"I can't get used to this shit," a masculine voice groans.

"What?" a feminine voice replies. "Telling me you don't like your schedule getting shifted?"

"No. I don't."

"It's not all that bad, you'll get used to it."

"I won't."

"Now you're just being a sourpuss. At least we can spend more time together! I always hated that you had the morning shift."

"And I always hated that you had the night shift. This fucking sucks."

"Come on, there are worse things in life than working at night!"

"I'd rather be dead."

Once they near the top of the first stair case, they have no time to react when the shade waiting for them spins out from cover and darts them both in the neck.

Having to react again, Crimson puts his pistol in between his teeth and reaches out to grab both bodies before they tumble loudly down the stairs. He pulls them in and lets them drop against the wall he was hiding at. He takes the gun from his mouth and quietly sighs some stress out, letting himself cool down before trying to descend the steps again.

"... Sheesh," Dahlia also pines, "Saw those two come out of the room to your left just in time. Nice one, Crim."

Crimson takes her words as the green light to keep moving down. Once at the base of the stairs, it looks like a copy of the first floor, except the rooms detail different signs and likely serve different purposes.

"Awesome, we're on the second level already and still zero alarms! ... Uuh... I'll knock on wood for us, don't worry. So now, you wanna... mmm..." she pauses for a moment, "... yeah. Alright, you wanna go straight, take a left, take another left, and keep going until you reach the end of that hall. That farthest door at the end is Keeper's lab."

Crimson nods, shooting his eyes around as he walks in the event of more surprises. He's internally gratified that Kleid did so much research prior, this is turning out of be much easier than he anticipated. That is, unless the alarm goes off. He isn't sure why it hasn't yet, but he keeps counting.

"Then take a left," Dahlia directs as the man moves. "... Check that window."

He does as commanded, stopping just as before to check a window next to a door. It looks like... a dormitory. Crimson's breath catches at seeing over three dozen bodies sleeping peacefully in an expansive rectangular room filled with bunk-beds and footlockers. So many griffons dreaming their hearts away. He doesn't spot any humans though.

"... They all asleep?" Dahlia asks. Crimson backs away from the window and nods. "... Alright. Keep going." At her word, he continues. He keeps throwing his eyes at every nook and cranny, ensuring that he remains unseen. "Another left."

He rounds this corner and is placed at a hallway that spans out to a dead-end. The door marked with an etched sign which displays a beaker and a dish is seated for arrival. No windows, the other side is a mystery. He proceeds again, a bit quicker in his stride.

He makes it to the door, seeing that it opens with a push bar rather than a door handle. He isn't sure he can open this quietly or not, he's never encountered this type of mechanism to open a door.

"... There's no wards inside the lab," Dahlia announces. "I don't know if he's in there or not. Be careful, alright?"

He clenches his teeth, gently placing his hand on the push bar and pressing it in. It doesn't move with light force, he can already feel the tension of a click. He reaffirms his grip on his pistol, and with a inhale, he pushes on the door quickly and rushes in, aiming his weapon out.

He takes everything in quickly, seeing that the lab is filled with all sorts of gizmos and gadgets that are making noise and emitting some sort of light. There's even a tesla ball sporadically shooting electric arms, giving the lab a purple-ish hue. What confuses him is the pony scientist working at a table with his back turned, hunched terribly, mumbling and cursing to himself. It doesn't seem like he cares at all about the sudden entry behind him. The door comes to a steady close, clicking shut on its own.

Crimson keeps his weapon pointed, waiting for the unicorn to react.

"... Crim, what's going on? Why is everything so quiet? Did you shoot him already?"

Still the unicorn does not react. Crimson purses his lips and begins to walk to him, keeping his pistol aimed. The closer he gets, the more he can decipher what is being said.

"Motherfucking… fucking mother fuck. Fuck!"

Crimson furrows his brows at the absurdities that is being spoken by the bespectacled stallion. Once Crimson is close enough, he puts the barrel of the pistol behind his head.

The stallion stops mumbling and begins speaking directly. "I fucking know you're there already. Drop the hard-ass act before you really piss me off." He finally turns around, glaring at Crimson in complete annoyance from behind his thick glasses. "What? What do you want?" Crimson is utterly confused by this remark. "... Hello? I asked you a fucking question."

"... What the hell?" Dahlia questions, hearing exactly what Crimson is hearing.

The man is torn between wanting to answer and keeping quiet.

"Uugh," the stallion rolls his eyes and keeps working on his circuit board, completely forgetting about the man.

"... What's this weirdo's deal? Is that Keeper?"

The sounds of boops and beeps takes the air as no other words are spoken, added with brief sparks from the stallion working on his board and him randomly cussing.

"... I don't know about you, Crim. You can just kill him and get it over with, but, uh... maybe you could try... talking to him?"

That is exactly what he was thinking. He debates both options. Considering much, he feels as if Keeper already might know he can talk. He certainly acted like it. Whether it be an assumption or fact through evidence, he couldn't know. With little else to lose, he grits his teeth and takes in a breath. "Keeper."

The stallion pauses without looking over, "What?"

"... You have somethin' I need."

The stallion turns around again, fixing his glasses and he scans Crimson up and down with a squint. "The fuck are you talking about?"

Crimson pauses, not quite having remembered what the relic was called. Luckily, Dahlia is quick to catch on and whispers into his ear, "the Ring of Conteriima!"

"The Ring of Cont-urr-eema," he repeats.

The stallion pauses again, as if deeply trying to recall what he is talking about. It strikes him after a moment, "Aaaah, that fucking thing. Take it, I don't fucking care. Tired of it anyway." He turns around and continues working on his board.

Dumbfounded, Crimson lets his pistol fall to his side. "... You're lettin' me just take it?"

"That's what I fucking said."

Crimson pouts his lips, unable to hide his surprise. "... Where is it?" The stallion points his hoof to the right, over to a metal table that has multiple parchments, quills, inkwells, glass dishes, and other small trinkets scattered about it. He spots it, the exact description that Kleid provided. A small metallic ring with tiny holes all over it. The man walks over, still holding his pistol in his right hand. He reaches for the relic with his left, holding it with his index finger and thumb. It feels oddly cool to the touch, but not cold. It weighs almost nothing, but feels almost indestructible. It's formation and design is definitely odd.

Crimson looks at the stallion, who still mutters swears to himself, then back to the relic. He shrugs and pockets it, letting it have a temporary stay next to the bunny. Seeing as this deranged stallion is genuinely letting him have the relic and not just trying to ruse him, he takes an opportunity to simply look around the lab.

He notices a lot of scribbles and drawings taped onto the walls all around the lab, ranging from all sorts of things: structures, animals, plants, ponies, humans, griffons, magical devices, and artifacts. What interests Crimson most is the human drawings. As a matter of fact, Crimson looks back down at the table which he picked up the ring from and studies the parchments here. Many of them also have drawings alongside a multitude of lengthy writings. There is more than a dozen drawings with humans doing different poses or feats of strength, such as carrying a massive boulder above their heads.

His curiosity is getting the better of him. "Did you know I was coming?"

"Of course I fucking didn't, but something always happens at this time of night. Another human showed up, whooptie-shit."

The man's brows furrow. 'Another?' "... No alarms?"

"Alarms? I turn those fucking things off when I'm working. They're annoying as fuck."

"... Wow," Dahlia grumbles.

Well that explains that, the man thinks. This encounter is not at all what he was braced for – perhaps Kleid left out some important details regarding this interesting stallion. Crimson is starting to assume he might have just killed some Sleeping Talons for no real reason. If it was not for what happened to him and the Elite squad, maybe he would feel bad. "... You drew these humans?" he asks aloud to the stallion.

"Yeah, so fucking what?"

"... Crim, what are you doing?" Dahlia crows in his ear.

"You study 'em?" Crimson follows up.

"What the fuck does it look like, an art museum?" Keeper responds again. "Yeah, I fucking study them. That's why I gave up on that stupid fucking ring. Couldn't fucking figure it out so I kept going with my true passion."

"Yer passion is my kind?"

"What is this, twenty fucking questions? Yeah, they are."

Crimson feels a conflicting emotion surface, one that is dumbstruck by the fact that Keeper isn't jumping at the opportunity to 'study' him, and the other that is extremely grateful he's not doing so. "You got humans here?"

"No! I haven't had a fucking human here in months. Ones I had died during procedures. Need a computer to compile the fucking data."

"That what you're workin' on right now?"

"Duh!" He waves the circuit board in the air before setting it back down and hunching over it. "Go fucking cry to your mom about it." He side-eyes Crimson briefly. "Can your mom talk?"

"My mom's dead."

He returns his eyes to the board. "Well that's too fucking bad."

There are many intrusive questions riding the foreground of Crimson's mind. He wants to bombard Keeper with every question on his mind, especially since he is giving sincere answers to each one he has spat out, even if crudely. If what he assumes is right, this whack-job is one of the ones responsible for allegedly giving humans speech. He cannot miss this opportunity while he has it.

"... You're giving humans the ability to talk?"

"Yeah. I am. Least I'm fucking trying. Stars fucking damn, you ask so many fucking questions." He spins around, brows furrowed behind his glasses, glaring at Crimson. "You're obviously from Mekajig's perfect batch. What? She fucking send you over to flaunt at me? 'Look, I made a perfect one! It can ask you a billion fucking questions!' Fucking bitch. It's not even perfect, it has a stupid fucking farmer's accent... which means I can still beat her to it. Just need more humans. ..." He goes quiet for a moment before snarling again. "She wanna try her hoof at the ring or what?"

"Yeah," Crimson states simply.

"Fucking fantastic. Tell that whore that I already used both the modern and antiquated methods of enchantment reversal, and both of them didn't fucking work. So good luck."

"How are you makin' us talk?"

"Aaah, classic mindwipe conditioning. Fucking Mekajig. Tell her I said I use the same process as her. Nothing changed. Drain the Broca's area and perform kinder-level language learning. Simple shit. It still doesn't work for a majority of humans, so if she ever finds out why, tell her to send you back here and fucking tell me because I can't figure it out and it’s pissing me off."

"I'll tell her."

"--Crim! You've gotta get outta there soon! Seriously!" Dahlia begs.

He hears her, but continues soothing his urge as best he can. He understands that sitting here and asking every question on his mind isn't the best or most sound strategy, so he formulates one last question to hopefully carry him the furthest. "Where may I find more information about human history?" he asks Keeper who is still glaring at him. He notices the unicorn pinning his eyes on the device wrapped around his wrist.

"Is that a fucking magical refractor?"

"Yes," Crimson replies simply.

"How fucking cute. Mekajig REALLY thought I was gonna try and kill you. She even gave you a dart-flinger. If you killed any of the idiots out there, I'll just fucking hire more. What a dumb bitch. You know what? Tell her this too: send your goons next time. I'll happily kill all of them, not your human pets. Keep them out of the shit-pot."

Crimson tries his hardest to not react at the information that's flowing before him.

"What did you fucking ask?"

Crimson, too, remember he had asked a question. "Where can I--"

"Aah, yeah, human history. Fucking stars above, I don’t wanna vomit all that shit for the millionth time. You’re not worth the time. So how about this? If you really care about human history so much, go bother that twat Kaleidoscope or one of his hoof-licking bitches. He kept some of my shit before I abandoned that tartarus-hole. Just hope he doesn't have Mekajig on his shit-list or you're fucked outta luck."

Crimson's eyes widen behind his hair. Kleid had it all this time... "... Thank you," he states his appreciation before turning to take his leave.

"And tell those useless fucks out there to bring me my salad. I'm getting fucking hungry."

"... Understood," he acknowledges before pressing the push bar to take his leave. The door closes behind him, and he's left in the silent loneliness of the hall outside.

...

"... What the fuck," Dahlia exasperates.

"Yeah," Crimson agrees curtly.

"Can you please get out of there now?"

He feels her sentiment and proceeds with an energized strut to leave the base. With Dahlia's guidance, he's out under three minutes. Luckily for him, no other griffons show up, he doesn't want to test their strength if he doesn't have to.

He slinks out of the base and leaves the premises from the gap he made in the fence, moving into a jog to climb the hill quickly. It has begun to sprinkle - droplets of rain sparsely come to water the soil around him.

He makes it up the hill and pushes past the brush, ending up on the same side as Dahlia. It looks like she's accommodated herself to the mild rain, having moved herself to sit under a tree. Once he appears from the greenery, she begins to shut down her device and pack up.

Crimson returns to the discreet hatch and lifts it, letting Dahlia go down first. She gets her saddlebags on and jumps through the hole, letting her wings ease her down. Crimson leaps in after her and pulls the hatch down, landing on the cement with a thud.

The both pat themselves off from dirt and water. They then take a moment to just stare at each other.

"... I think you know what I'm gonna ask of you," Crimson begins.

"Do you really think Kleid is gonna just dump all the info on our laps?"

"We won't know if we don't try. Just ask him. After we bring back the ring, I reckon he'll be predisposed to bendin' his back a little."

Dahlia falls contemplative for a moment, letting her eyes drag across the ground before setting them on the transponder machine. "... What should I ask him?"

Crimson grins with contentment. He meditates briefly on how she should proceed...

‎

~~~<

‎

“Human history, you say?” Kleid questions.

“Yeah,” Dahlia replies. “I’m looking for as much information as possible on it.”

“Haha, you could have fooled me, Wisp! No offense, but I didn’t take you for a scholar! Is there some sort of research project you’re conducting on the matter?”

“You can say that.” Her shrewd retort resonates through Cosma’s lab. The mare herself even looks up from her paperwork to give Dahlia a curious stare.

“Well, whatever the reason may be,” Kleid proceeds, “I’m sure the information will prove more fruitful for you than it is to us. Keeper was definitely... unique, in how he wrote his notes. I will bring you what you are looking for.” Crimson internally fist-pumps. “Again, I can’t thank you enough for retrieving the Ring of Conteriima, and smoothly at that! No alarms, no suspects, you truly are a professional!”

“Thanks,” Dahlia takes his compliment in stride.

“If you have a treasury or deposit number, we’ll send your payment directly!”

Dahlia’s eyes expand. At just the thought of a payment, one possibly in the six digits, she salivates. “Uh, yeah! Heh, thanks! You got a quill?”

Cosma takes the initiative to levitate a piece of blank parchment and a wetted quill Dahlia’s way. Suspended in front of her, she takes the plume and scribbles in her information. Cosma takes it back and rests it on her desk, getting back to work.

“Excellent!" Kleid cheers. "So with that out of the way, I’ll have one of my crew gather our documents and Keeper’s research papers. That reminds me, what of our charming friend? Is he no longer or does he persist?”

Dahlia ponders hundreds of responses to his question, unsure which could be the right one. She could tell the truth, but… “My human didn’t see him when he snatched the relic. He may not have been in his lab. It was a silent in and out.”

“Even better! Avoiding unnecessary confrontation is always the smartest approach! But, heh, I don’t need to tell you how to do your job, right? Right! Speaking of which, your next deployment is soon! I will provide you with a briefing tomorrow morning. If you would to return to my lab and rest, please feel free! The prep will be done by yours truly!”

“Sure. It’s… left, down the hall, right, and… right?”

“Impeccable sense of direction! That is correct!”

“Cool,” Dahlia smiles wryly and nods, beginning her walk towards the lab door. “We’ll kick it for tonight, then.” Crimson follows behind her.

“I will see you two bright and early!”

The duo depart and return to Kleid’s lab, using the button to open the door to their temporary stay. Dahlia walks tiredly and sits on the bottom bunk, Crimson returns to the single couch.

“That guy was a piece of work, huh?” Dahlia comments while examining the hooves of her hindlegs. She glances at Crimson to catch him nodding twice. “I was expecting a few things to happen, but that wasn’t one of them.” Again, she glances his way and catches him smile. It gives her a curious raising of her brow. “What are you smiling about, smiley-pants?” He shakes his head. “You can’t be smiling for no reason.” He shrugs and looks away, still smiling. “… I’ll get it out of you soon.”

Crimson lets his head rest back against the wall and his eyes close.

“You actually gonna sleep? Or are you gonna keep being weird and just sit there the whole night?” Again, he shrugs. Having to interact like this with him again makes her remember what she already realized. She comes to terms with herself - she really doesn’t like it when he’s not able to talk.

She directs her attention to him, quietly watching as he rests with his eyes closed. She can’t even see his eyes due to his hair, but she knows they’re closed. She can feel it. There’s a few things she wants to say and talk about, but it’s no fun when he can’t reciprocate. What she has to say probably isn’t even worth talking about, it would just be small talk or filler. No point in it, she guesses. That’s how she feels about most things that pop into mind, at least things that aren’t business related.

…

Still, something about this idiot makes her feel like even though it is small talk, and it is pointless, it’s still worth saying. She’s best shrugging off the feeling, though. Especially now in the circumstances they’re in.

She scoots herself onto the bed completely and lies down on the first bunk, staring blankly at the bottom of the second bunk. She rides her train of thought until her eyes close on their own.

The Show Stopper

~ The Black Horseshoes Research Facility No. 16, Cosma's Office ~<
April 4th, Tuesday, 8:30

‎

Bright and early, Crimson and Dahlia return promptly to Cosma’s lab. When they enter, they are surprised to see a new face waiting for them alongside Kleid and Cosma. Another unicorn mare wearing a lab coat with saddlebags around her waist who looks very determined. A mare of a light rose-pink coat, along with a cherry mane and tail. Once the duo make their presence known, she faces them directly. She trots right up to Crimson, giving him a death-glare up and down with her amber-orange orbs. He stands there with seldom a reaction. Both Cosma and Kleid seem content with letting their peer do her thing.

Dahlia, however, does not take as lightly to her intrusive staring. “Hey,” she calls to this impudent mare, “careful your eyes don’t pop out.”

She directs the vicious glare to her now. “He looks strong,” she says, completely ignoring the comment. “Is he?”

Dahlia pulls away her confusion at the seemingly random question. “Uh, yeah. He’s strong. Who are you?”

“Ruby Morning. Wisp?”

“That’s me.”

“I’ve heard great things about you. Your judgement best not let in this endeavor.”

“And what would ‘this endeavor’ be?”

“Retrieval of our next relic. Your human is a requirement, as he is our only way of attaining it.”

The diction used by this mare instills an unpleasant taste in Dahlia's mouth. “A requirement, huh. Listen, I’d rather get a move on sooner rather than later, so just tell me what’s going on and what we need to do.”

Ruby’s furrowed brows crinkle even further, giving Dahlia a grimace. “We are going to prepare the transponder to send you to Hoofer Dam, by the city of Salt Lick. You will cross the Highland Reservoir and approach the base of the Applewood mountain. On the north west face, you will find an old mining site with a warehouse that lays base to Rhye’s stronghold.”

“Wait,” Dahlia interrupts, “old mining site? The silver deposit?”

“The very one,” Ruby verifies, sounding mildly impressed with Dahlia’s foreknowledge. “I will save you the pathfinding as you are already familiar with the location. Arrive there, speak to the guards at the entrance. Tell them you want to register. They will take your human, you will enter Rhye’s stronghold. They will put your human in the fighting pit, and you hope he emerges victorious.”

Dahlia reels at her instruction. “A human ring? Damn, they still do those?”

“Rhye does. The relic you must acquire, the Orb of Tramana, fell into his hooves after an ex-merchant of the Family attempted to flee with it and his payment for delivering it.”

It clicks in Dahlia’s mind. The orb – the one she and Crimson found at that temple in the Everfree. She is astounded. She assumed the merchant she sold it to knew better than to try and raw the Horseshoes, but… “… Right. Let me guess, he’s using it as a prize?”

“Not just A prize… the grand prize. If it was so simple, we would have it already.”

“And what makes this guy such a big deal?”

“Considering Rhye is a grandchild to a Doyen and is a spoiled brat, perhaps you can make your own assumption. If you dare upset that stallion-child or fail to play by his rules, he’ll ensure his grandfather hears of it. If you're not somepony his grandfather likes..." she dissociates momentarily, eyes dilating slowly as if fighting against a horrid memory. She snaps back, frowning at Dahlia again. "Trust me when I say, you do NOT want that happening to you. Not if you value your life or your dignity.” Dahlia churns her thoughts before speaking up again, but is quickly cut off by Ruby, “and before you ask, we have already tried sending our own humans into his pit. As you can deduce the obvious, they did not survive.”

"Don't the Doyens want the thing for their 'immortality?' That doesn't make sense. Why are they letting him keep it if it gets in the way of that?"

"Several reasons. The first is that whatever power or muscle he has in his stronghold, it has defeated everything that has tried to obtain it, legitimately and otherwise. Some of the Doyens even sent their own humans and henchmen in secret. None could attain it, and despite the objections of these Doyens, Rhye's grandfather, Borro, is the oldest Doyen and thus holds the final say. Borro is the only force preventing a total Horseshoe deployment against Rhye, essentially allowing him to use it as a toy to make his grandson happy, at least until the other lost relics are amassed and ready. If Rhye grows bored of it, perhaps it will fall in the right hooves. That is what we have been hoping for... but it is not likely. Knowing Rhye and the sense of power the relic gives him, he will never relinquish it. That is why it needs to be taken in the only way that could possibly work. We assume whatever it is that keeps his stronghold so powerful lies in the pit."

"He loves his grandson that much, huh?"

"It is very quaint."

Dahlia’s mouth puckers as if she sucked a lemon. Not only does it address her unspoken concern, it piles on worry about the situation as a whole. She looks to Crimson, who is still somehow able to keep a calm and collected front. She cannot understand him; she is internally kicking up a panic, and he remains idle. She looks back to Ruby, “If the other Doyens couldn't take it from Rhye, what makes you think we can?"

"My expectations are not high."

Dahlia squints at her, doing everything in her power to stifle a smart remark. Instead, she sighs and shifts her eyes away from her cold glare. "... And there’s… no other way to try and get that relic?”

“Again,” Ruby miffs with mild exasperation, “if there were, we would not be discussing this.”

“It seems like you’re worried,” Kleid comments. “Do you not trust in your human’s abilities?”

“It’s not that I don’t, I just…” Dahlia clenches her teeth, “… what are the stakes? I at least wanna know what we're getting into.”

“Unfortunately," Ruby starts, "whatever entertainment Rhye has employed is beyond our knowledge. We cannot tell you the specifics of what the fighters in the pit are capable of, but our findings return a simple generalization: the fighters partaking in the bloodshed are all physically and magically enhanced, so much so that no contestant we put in the ring could match them. We all but gave up on obtaining the orb when we realized the means to acquire it were out of our reach, and no other hired help sought to take the job.”

Dahlia lets her contemplative eyes fall to the ground.

“Remember,” Kleid proclaims, “our resources are at your disposal. If you needed to enhance your human further, test his abilities, etcetera, we have a somatic regiment we can put him through. It was never enough for our humans, but I am confident that it may serve your particular human quite well.”

Dahlia looks up at Crimson to see what he thinks. She is shocked to see his eyes, dilated to marbles under his hair, staring back at her in a way that cries everything except ‘yes.’ She looks back to Kleid, shaking her head. “Thanks, but… we’ll take what we’ve got. I guess, eh... is there anything else we should know before we go?”

“Yes,” Ruby asserts, “one last thing, if it’s any consolation. If your human is able to win a round, you will win a very generous prize in bits. Even if your human here dies, you will walk away rich if he can best but one opponent.” Dahlia looks surprised at this information, suddenly appearing just a tad less stressed than she was a few seconds ago. Crimson silently glares at her from the corner of his eye. "But again, optimally, we would like to win the orb. The city of Salt Lick is a good place to rest before the fight. You will be renting one of the rooms in the Rooted Greens saloon. We will provide you with bits to acquire said room, and extra for food, if you so desire. Something else you should know are the rules of the pit. There are three: the human must be collared or able to be leashed, there are no weapons, and there is no armor. The clothing your human currently dons is considered armor. You will have to undress him before you present him to the pit. Any collar you wish to put on him must not contain spikes or any jutted metal. Leave your belongings in your room at Rooted Greens, they will be safe there."

Crimson's resolve finally cracks slightly. Dahlia feels this discomforted energy leap off of him, not by catching it physically, but by remembering their first interaction. "... Is underwear allowed?"

"Yes. Undergarments are allowed except for lingerie. Strings, clips, buckles, and other small tactical advantages are not allowed. The human may only use what their body is capable of. Did you have any further concerns before you are deployed?”

Dahlia takes a moment to recollect everything that was explained to her and mentally forms a course of action. Once she is organized, she shakes her head.

Ruby looks back to Cosma and Kleid, nodding her head at them. Cosma reaches to the transponder and flips down the heavy switch. The machine roars to life, lighting up the lab with blue magic. Kleid provides Dahlia with a coin purse from his lab coat before she and Crimson proceed to be translocated to central Equestria.

‎

~~~<

‎

The transponder spits the duo out inside of another cement square built exactly like the one before. The first thing they both notice is the weighty sound of rushing water, though it is heavily suppressed by the thick walls of this bunker. They have not much to say to one another, only exchanging a silent glance of uncertainty. They then spot the metal ladder and make their ascent, opening the hatch and coming out into the world above. The hatch practically disappears into the brick floor they stand upon.

A quick inspection around tells that they are standing on top of the Hoofer Dam's bridge, with a hundred-foot drop on the east side, and a river only a couple of feet down on the west side. They take the bridge north to a nearby town - one apparently named Salt Lick. Once the bricked stone bridge of the dam ends, they step on cool soil and soon approach the town.

Crimson glances around as they walk through the dirt-paved streets. He sees ponies, as per usual, but he also sees humans. Quite a bit of them too. They are mostly naked or in undergarments, just as he will be soon, and every single one of them is in a collar, with or without a leash. They follow closely behind their pony owners as they go about their business. Eyes shoot at the lumbering man, still finding himself taller than the other humans around, but no one seems too irked by him or his clothing.

Dahlia leads him to a two-story building that has a sign hung out front, painting a mug of cider and a pillow. They rise up a small set of steps to reach the front swinging doors. Once inside, Dahlia makes pace to the stallion sitting behind a counter next to a fireplace. There are very few ponies inside. Two stallions sit at a table and play chess, another stallion sits on a rocking chair, drunk and asleep. The town of Salt Lick is small, but gives off a cozy, familiar feeling.

The rough-looking stallion behind the counter gives Dahlia a hard glare. “We got rooms and food. Drink, too. I cook. Ain’t much else to tell."

“I’ll take a room,” Dahlia replies simply, looking up at the board of wood behind the stallion which paints the menu. “And two soup and cracker meals.” She reaches for the provided coin purse and takes out twenty-six bits, placing them on the counter top and sliding them his way. He takes them and nods. He then reaches under his counter and gives Dahlia a room key before turning around to the cooking pot behind him and getting to work.

Dahlia turns and heads to the right side of this saloon. There is a staircase that leads to the second floor, Crimson follows her up. The second floor has all of the rooms lined up next to each other, but fairly spaced apart. She finds the room with the same number as her key, sliding it into the knob and unlocking it. She walks in, quick to drop her saddlebags onto the wooden floor. Crimson closes the door behind him. The room is simple yet homey. A big orange bed, a sofa, a radio, cabinets, and drawers. All of the furnishings of this place are colors of greys, whites, and oranges.

Crimson steps further in, standing in between Dahlia and the bed.

"Get undressed," the mare commands, keeping her eyes away from Crimson.

“Very forward of you, mistress,” he speaks softly in the case of overhearers.

Her eyes widen and her ears perk up. “Shut up! You know what Ruby said!”

“Shush! Hey!" he whisper-shouts. "I was only jokin’. Lower yer voice.”

Dahlia’s cheeks redden as she huffs. “You keep saying shit like that, I'm gonna kick your ass for real." Despite her words, she takes his advice and keeps her voice down, just as he does.

“You may have to one of these days. Pickin' on you is a delight.”

“Then don't start crying when I do.”

With a smirk, he looks down and undoes his belt buckle. Dahlia keeps looking away, focusing on a particular groove in the wooden floor. He methodically unhooks the buckle. Once he does, he pulls his belt out from the loops of his pants and duster. He tosses his belt over to the bed, then shrugs his duster off his shoulders and catches it with one hand. He tosses his duster the same way, landing it on the middle of the bed.

Dahlia eventually looks back to him without really thinking about it. She spots him lifting his shirt, his face covered by the cloth. Her eyes plaster his exposed chest.

Once Crimson takes off his shirt, he is met by two big magenta orbs glaring at him. Once their eyes meet, she instantly shifts her eyes and turns her face away. "Gh-ch!" she stutters out accidentally from her embarrassment.

"Girl," Crimson calls to her, startling her with his voice, "you realize I'm gonna be walkin' in my drawers the whole time we do this thing, right?"

"Yeah, I know. And it sucks."

"Suck as it might, you lookin' away is just pushin' off the inevitable. Just remember where my eyes are, alright?"

"Oh my stars, just stop..."

With much amusement, he continues to undress until he has nothing on but his underwear and his collar. He takes his shirt, pants, and socks, bundling them before tossing them to the bed.

She knows she has seen him naked before, she knows what he looks like already, but for a reason unknown to her, she is finding it hard to accept the fact that he is taking off his clothes. She tries to absorb the idea that he should be treated like any other human - they are all naked or mostly naked. Hell, even ponies are all mostly naked. Clothes really are not that big of a deal, yet for some reason, she cannot seem to get over this.

“Y'know," the man begins, "I really don’t care if you look. Not like I'm completely naked.”

“Well I care if I look,” she states firmly. "It's just... weird."

"I don't see how. Just think of me like you did when we first met. That got you over much, didn't it?"

"But this ISN'T like how we first met. You're smart, I didn't know that before."

"You've already seen me naked. There ain't much surprise left for you to be torn over."

"Why are you being so calm about this? It's freaking me out." Although her tone sharpens, her voice doesn't actually raise in volume.

Crimson tilts his head in stupor. "And I can't understand why this is stumpin' you so much. Just look at me like any other human."

"Uugh, don't you get it? I can't. You're not like the other humans. You think, you talk, you do stuff others don't. Can I really look at you like the other humans when you can do all that?"

"It shouldn't even be a big deal, especially since we ain't the same species. You don't fancy me, it should be that simple."

Her face blossoms with pink blush. "Mmrh, it's not even that. It's you. As in: you. You specifically are the problem. If I looked at you naked, it would be like staring at a stallion who's hard all the time. It's just weird."

"Like I said, I'm in underwear. You're the one makin' this weird."

"So now you're judging me," she states rather sternly. Something about the way she says this feels a bit too involved for Crimson to jokingly bounce off of.

"How'm I judging you?" She does not respond immediately, still focusing on the ground. Something inside her advocates staying quiet. "Listen, I'm not forcin' you to look, I'm just sayin' it's best to get over it. I won't magically get dressed if you look away long enough."

"I can hope, right?"

"Guess you can." Crimson sighs and sits down on the bed, letting himself take a moment to relax. The bed is soft, feeling as comfortable as it looks. Even though it is blissful, he cannot actually find it in him to unwind as Dahlia still stands contemplative in the middle of the room. "... I don't reckon we'll have many opportunities to talk to each other. If you've got somethin' on yer mind, best tell me now."

Her orbs look up to him, brows lined just above them. "You're really pushy, you know that?" Crimson lifts his hands to her, as if fainting pushing her away. "Yeah, really funny," she states, looking away again.

The energy in the room feels odd, they know it is all in due to Dahlia. Their united silence only works to drive what Crimson had said.

Dahlia purses her lips, finally working herself up to ask, "Why don't you care if I look?"

Crimson's left brow arches in amusement. "Do I really gotta repeat myself?"

"Yeah, but you told me to look away back at that Moonlight chick's house."

Crimson finds himself stopped. Both of his brows raise, realizing he is now forced into a truth or lie corner. At his lack of response, Dahlia looks over to him again wonderingly. Her gaze makes it that much harder to lie to her. "... Just..." he takes his hand to the back of his head, "fer no reason."

"Oh, bullshit!"

"Dahlia!" He snaps at her heightened tone.

Her ears fall to her head and she lowers to the ground slightly, but her frown stays on her face as she gawks at him. "Bullshit!" she repeats much quieter. "Stop lying to me before you really piss me off! Why'd you say it if it hardly mattered!?"

He could shut her down and push her away, metaphorically this time, but... he knows it will only cause her to lock up. It is the last thing he wants, and he knows it. "... I..." he begins, shifting his eyes away from her, "It's 'cause, I... wanted to get back at'cha fer..." He stops himself, feeling too embarrassed to want to finish the idea.

Dahlia latched onto the words he said, trying to piece everything together. It is not long before she does. "For kicking you out of the restroom when I showered?" Crimson does not say anything, keeping his gaze averted. "Hah, are you serious? Did you actually get upset at that?"

"I didn't get upset," he frowns at her. "What upset me is you leavin' yer hair all over the damn drain."

"Yeah? Well if you weren't upset, why did you try to get back at me?"

"How 'bout you, huh? Why you keep tryin'a call Moonlight my lover?" Dahlia least expected him to bring this up, it causes her ears to perk and her eyes to shrink. "Petty jealousy ain't a good look on you."

Dahlia quakes, becoming red at his last statement. She actively tries to keep herself from shouting at him. "I-I'm not jealous. Why would I even be jealous of her? She's just an egghead I've never met and I'll never meet. It's you that keeps putting her up on this pedestal, it's hard to think anything else."

"In yer own words: Bullshit."

"Pff, oh yeah? How's that, wise guy?"

"Because I've already seen you wet without yer stupid little shirt on. Damn near singin', cleanin' up, my ass standin' right smack behind you. Before you say 'privacy,' it's sure convenient that you kicked me out after somethin' struck yer mind. That face you made? Way you looked away from me? Thought I wouldn't notice? There wouldn't be no sound reason fer you to kick me outta the restroom except bein' petty."

As he continues to speak, the red upon her face deepens. She clenches her teeth before snarling, "My shirt is cool, fuck you."

"Exactly, ain't got nothin' to say. It's like you forgot we bathed together already."

"We never did! The hell are you talking about!?"

"Yeah? In front of yer lodge in the forest? That river at the front?" Dahlia clenches her teeth, she did indeed forget. It was such a brief moment, and she only spent a handful of minutes there before retiring for the night. "Like I said, jealousy ain't a good look on you."

Her eyes glitter in utter resentment, just about ready to abandon all reservation and openly attack him.

KNOCK KNOCK

The two of them jump quickly at the abrupt rapping on their door. Crimson shuts himself up while Dahlia stumbles to answer it. Both try to act natural. She cracks the door open slightly, seeing that it is the stallion who was downstairs at the counter. She opens the door completely for him, noting that he is standing with a tray of food in hoof and a stand on his back. He shifts his eyes from Dahlia to the human who took all his clothes off sitting on the bed, then back to Dahlia.

Dahlia’s realizes where his eyes went, her face slowly heats up as the stallion keeps staring at this very peculiar scene.

“Sorry to interrupt," he states with a sly smirk. "Here’s your food." Dahlia’s stomach digests itself. The stallion walks in, past the frozen mare, and sets down the table-stand which was on his back in the very center of the room. He sets the tray of food on it and walks back outside. “Enjoy the appetizer,” he says suggestively as he closes the door, his hoofsteps becoming farther away until they are no longer audible.

…

“What does look good on you is all that rosie on your cheeks,” Crimson comments tactlessly.

Like her spirit exited her body, Dahlia turns around lifelessly and walks to the tray in the middle of the room, keeping her eyes away from the man. “... Crimson… shut the fuck up...”

‎

~~~~<

‎

After the two had finished, and Dahlia recollected enough pieces of her ego, they set out towards the west. They cross the length of the Hoofer Dam bridge and trail along the entire Highland Reservoir. Crimson looks up at the sky as they walk. The cool, humid air of the mid-day blows against his skin as heavy grey clouds have begun to form in the sky above. Rain is imminent.

After walking for roughly half an hour, bespoken landmarks make their appearance. Crimson now directs his attention to the base of the Applewood mountains, which they are approaching. He sees an enormous abandoned industrial warehouse at the foot of the Applewoods. There is also a huge cave entrance next to the warehouse on the mountains. There are immense pieces of broken, rusted machinery and tools littered around the area. As they get closer, the grass under them turns to moist dirt.

The warehouse itself is very large, rivaling military hangars. The massive front gate to the warehouse appears to be shut and welded together. There is a regular sized double-door entrance next to the large gate that allows access inside, but this door is guarded by two bodies.

The duo spot more of these ponies walking around the warehouse, they appear to be all stallions wearing miner’s drabs. Each one of them is big and menacing. Dahlia already knows that these ponies are not miners, there has not been anything to mine inside the cave for years.

Once the duo makes it to the guards at the door, Dahlia speaks up. "I wanna register,” she says firmly to the stallions.

They scrutinize her, then the human behind, scanning his form up and down. They appear impressed with what they see. One of the stallions return his punchy gaze to Dahlia. “You a freelancer?”

“Yeah.”

"Ever fought before?"

She shakes her head at him.

He looks around with critical eyes. He reaches behind him and takes out a clipboard with a charcoal stick that was sat on his back, offering it to Dahlia. It looks like a sign-in sheet with multiple names already on it or crossed off. "Put'cher name here. 'N your human's name next to it." The mare does as he asks, taking the clipboard and charcoal to write. Once the last blank spot is filled with her information, she offers it back to the stallion. The stallion takes it and hides it behind him again. "Lucky you we had major drop-outs in the starter's bracket today. New round just started, your dude'll be up next. He don't need a leash, right?" he asks, tilting his head to Crimson.

"He's well trained," she replies simply.

The stallion nods. The other next to him, who has kept quiet the whole time, glares at Crimson and grunts, "C'mere, boy." He walks off and Crimson takes the instruction to walk behind him. He leads the man to the left side of the warehouse out the farthest end, the side that faces the foot of the mountains. There is a sizable cellar door attached to the outside wall, one that leads to an underground level of the warehouse. The stallion reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick key, moving to unlock the door and open it up.

The stallion turns to gawk at the man, and he returns a lazy stare behind his hair. The stallion takes a few steps to the left, and Crimson's eyes follow. A few more steps, and he follows again. The stallion smirks and shakes his head. “Your gal's gonna be real sad when she sees you die out there. Least provide some entertainment before you do. Alright, bud?”

He chuckles devilishly, walking down the cellar doors. The man follows. They proceed down a long ramp that descends into the darkness. The ramp down is made of solid, rather grippy concrete, probably to prevent humans from slipping and falling down this bottomless slope. It becomes darker and darker as they descend, the natural light the clouded sky provided is now replaced by dim, amber light bulbs that do a poor job at their one purpose.

Once they reach the bottom of the ramp, they step onto dirt ground. There is a heavy steel prison door that confines the next room. The stallion reaches into his pocket and takes out another thick key. He slides it into the lock of the door, and it clicks loudly. He pushes the heavy door open.

“HRGH?” “HRAAGH!”

The sound of angry humans is the response to the door opening.

“Shut up, ya' fuckin’ simians,” the stallion shouts, riling up the humans more. As they walk in, the scent of blood and disgorge overwhelms the air.

Crimson glances around the room. Steel cages of different sizes are all placed along the walls of this confinement. The floor is dirt, but the ceiling and walls are wood and cement. The whole room has one sad lightbulb that is flickering on its last legs, hanging in the very middle. It does not do a good job at providing light and making things clear, but it is good enough for one to make things out and not bump into anything.

Humans are kept inside these cages. The cages themselves are all draped over with cloth, which do not allow the humans to see outside of their cage, and the bars are too close together to allow for any reaching. The cages also appear to gently glow with magical runes that randomly pop up on different parts of the cage, like tattoos which appear and vanish around the metal.

The stallion leads Crimson to an opened, empty cage near the far-right corner of the room. He steps behind the man and shoves him into the cage, and is quick to slam the cage door shut. The lock of the cage appears to engage itself as it lights with softly-glowing blue magic. It remains glowing with the enchantment, and the runes he noticed from the other cages now appear on his.

He stares back at the stallion who grins wickedly and utters, “Await destiny, bud. Make your gal proud.” He reaches up to drop the drapes over Crimson’s cage, leaving him in the dark. The man can hear the stallion cackling maniacally as he leaves the room, shutting the steel door and locking it.

Crimson sighs, sitting down inside his cage. He debates what is worse, the cage or the collar. The fact that it is both right now leaves him without words... he will be sure to make someone pay for this. For everything that has happened to him.

Now, he awaits for his apparent showtime. He contemplates simply breaking out. He starts to think it is more worth it, physically and mentally, to just fight against Horseshoes against all they have head-on instead of playing their games, but then he thinks on how insurmountable it would be without his Arch. He played the waiting game with his former gang, he deems the same patience must be had with these otherworldly creatures.

Plus, pulling the wrong move will not merit the Horseshoes after just him, they will target Dahlia too. Relentlessly.

“WOOOOOOWE! LOOK AT’CHA! BLEEDIN’ LIKE A DOG!”

-“Oooh, where’s your daddy now, son? Is he gonna save you? Huh!? HE’S FUCKIN’ DEAD, BOY! 'N YER NEXT!”

--“WE WERE LIKE FAMILY, SKY!"

---"Crimson, please... they're coming..."

‎

~<

‎

Dahlia watches the guard take Crimson away, off around the corner of the warehouse. The stallion still in of her steps aside, granting her access. She walks forward and pushes the heavy doors open.

As if the doors were the soundproof piece that kept everything quiet, Dahlia’s ears are flooded with the muffled sounds of rallying cries from the attendants. She meanders through a dark, dimly lit maze-like passageway made of thick steel and sheet-metal. The sheer weight and build of the entire warehouse is very apparently overdone and powerful.

After a final left turn, Dahlia puts her hoof over her eyes as floodlights somewhat blind her. She exits the wide halls and steps into the stands of the warehouse. Ponies, zebras, and griffons, hundreds of bodies are sitting on bleachers as two humans assault each other in a pit.

The warehouse was completely remodeled from the inside, now taking on the service of a roman-esque fighting coliseum. The pit, dug three stories into the ground, is in the very center with compacted dirt as the flooring. Bleachers are all around the circular pit, arranged in a square shape, sitting all of the shouting and mobbing attendants. There are some exclusive box seats high above the bleachers on each side of the walls for the richer and fancier kinds. The most notable box seats are located at the farthest end from the entrance, all surrounded by thick glass and decorated in a manner that yells, 'the boss sits here.'

She sees them up there, the minds behind the operation, recalling who they are. The organization named the Ring Runners are a vanquishing kind in Equestria due to modernization, but outside of Equestrian borders, this particular practice is still common and always held by the rich. Equestria is simply unique in the fact that they use humans for theirs.

Seeing as there are no assigned seats among the chaos, Dahlia keeps her composure and walks herself over to the bleachers closest to her and the exit. She sits on the bottom-most row at the edge. The view is not too great, and she is next to a zebra stallion who is shouting his head off, but she thinks it is good enough. The zebra looks over to Dahlia when she takes her seat.

“HohehehEeey, sweet thang. Wanna catch a carriage with me after the show?~” he raises his eyebrows suggestively and leans in.

Dahlia leans away from him, able to smell the alcohol in his breath. “Not interested.”

The zebra squints, “Pssh, bitch... WOOOOOO!” he continues to shout as he returns to the show.

Dahlia directs her gaze to the two fighters now as well. One of them is a standard human of light blue skin, the other is a larger, more bulky human of orange skin. They are both bloody, bruised, hair-torn, and terribly exhausted, but they still keep fighting each other. At this rate, they will end up running out of blood before a killing blow is issued.

The orange one pins the blue one onto the ground. He starts to punch the lights out of the blue human under him. More blood is somehow spewing from the blue. In an act of desperation, blue reaches out to clasp orange's face, scratch at it with his jagged nails, and manages to drive his right thumb into their right eye.

The orange one shrieks in pain, screams in panic, then returns the favor by jamming his left thumb into blue’s left eye. They dig into each other’s brains, screeching in agony as they do. Blood leaks furiously from their eye sockets. The crowd is going insane. Dahlia watches this with little amusement.

Finally, after adequate anguish, the two humans stop. The arm of the blue human falls limply to his side, the orange human collapses on top of him. They both lie in the middle of ring, convulse together, then remain completely still.

Dahlia’s ears rest on her head from the obnoxiously loud crowd ringing her eardrums. She returns her attention to the box seats above, eyeing the Ring Runners who sit on their comfortable asses. She furrows her brows at them, scoping their numbers… six guards up there, two Ring Runners, and one show-mare. She can probably tell which Runner is Rhye, a fat spoiled unicorn, just by how the show-mare is hugging and coupling up to him as his personal pet.

Dahlia fixates her attention on this show-mare in question. The orange glow is undeniable; the relic of Tramana finds itself fixed into a pendant, and it is being worn as a necklace around her neck.

Five stallions fly into the ring after the humans are dead. Four of them begin routine on cleaning up the blood and bodies, the fifth stallion, wearing a very nice suit and having applied too much hair gel, holds a megaphone in his wing.

“ADMIRE THE BLOODSHED! LOVE THE GORE! A TWO FOR ONE SPECIAL! WE END THIS ROUND WITH A DRAW! YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS! VISITOR LOSES, AND HOME KEEPS THE STAKE!”

One stallion in the crowd of hundreds, the owner of the now dead blue human, rises from the bleachers besotted. He leaves the coliseum with zero earnings and without his human.

Dahlia directs her attention to the pit now. She watches the pegasus clean-up crew drag the bodies and throw them into a depository hatch found on the wall of the ring. Dahlia assumes it leads down to a pit, deep in the ground where all dead fighters are piled and burned.

“AND WHOOOOOOOO’S READY FOR ANOTHER ROOOUUUUND!” The crowd fans the flame. “AHAA, I KNEW YOU WERE! REMEMBER, FOLKS! THE PRIZE POOL STANDS AT TWO. MILLION. BITS! EACH WIN RACKS FIIIIIIVE-HUNDRED THOUSAAAAND! CLIMB THE LATTER, GRAB THE GOLD, MAKE IT TO THE TOP! WIN THE FINAL ROUND AND YOU GO HOME WITH AN ANCIENT. PRICELESS. REEEELIIIIIIC!”

The announcer points towards the box seats, and spotlights aim that way.

The stallion assumed to be Rhye slaps the mare’s flank. She rises from her cuddling position and spreads her wings. She jumps up over the glass and begins to fly around, displaying not only her curvaceous body, but also the relic worn around her neck. Constant cheering resounds like thunder.

Dahlia’s brows twitch, resisting the urge to simply fly up and snatch it.

“SELL IT TO A WIZARD! SELL IT TO A MUSEUM! KEEP THE DAMN THING IF YOU WANT! THIS RELIC GIVES THE WEARER A PERFECT SENSE OF BALANCE AND REFLEXES! CATCH A KNIFE! DO A SOMMERSAULT! NEVER LOSE IN YOUR GAME OF CATCH EVER AGAIN! YOU WANT IT? IT’S YOURS, MY FRIEND! JUST THROW YOUR HUMAN INTO THE RING AND PRAY TO YOUR BAG OF BITS THEY’RE BADASS ENOUGH TO MAKE IT FOUR. ROOOUUUUUNDS! ARE WE READYYYYY!?"

The crowd responds with an overwhelming "YEEEEEEAAAAH!"

"NEXT. ROUND. STAAAAAAAART!”

Dahlia's attention is snapped down to the large, heavy steel doors on each end of the ring that hide the next opponents.

‎

~<

‎

Crimson’s eyes remain closed as he blocks out the sound of constant screeching and rattling of the humans around him. Even if he wanted to try to talk to them, to see if there is any semblance of intelligence found in those blank-slate minds, he cannot. They keep screaming, they keep shaking their cages, and they are all terribly agitated, likely because of his entry. He sighs, squinting his eyes at the floor of his cage.

Idle, silent contemplation for what feels like too long.

His eyes shoot open when his cage suddenly begins to quake and rattle. He sees that his cage is being lifted off the ground, a heavy pulley system raises it into the ceiling. It becomes pitch black, he cannot see anything, he only feels his rattling cage as the sound of working metal continues.

He rises an unknown height before the cage stops. The magic on the cage’s lock disperses, and the cage door opens in by itself. Crimson rises and pushes the cloth that covers his cage out of the way. He sees a small light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. He walks along the dirt path towards the light, seeing that it is a large steel gate with a small window at the very top. It lets a little bit of light from outside peek in. He can hear shouting and cheering from the other side.

He tries peeking through the window, but it is too high up for him really get a good look at anything. He then looks around the hall he finds himself in. There is definitely no way out from in here, unless he wants to punch through an unknown quantity of cement and dirt.

“NEXT. ROUND. STAAAAAAAART!”

This key phrase tips him off, his attention directs to the now-rising steel gate. Light floods in and stuns his dilated eyes. He shuts them, letting them adjust, then reopens them and looks forward.

The announcer flies up from the middle of the pit and shouts into the megaphone: “LET’S GET READY TO RRUUUUMBLEEEEEE!”

Crimson hesitantly steps out into the ring, the overbearing volume of the crowd surrounds him. Hundreds of animals sit on bleachers at every angle, they all stare down at him from high up. His eyes scan through the masses, looking for a specific mare. It takes him a few turns of his head, but he spots Dahlia. She sits on the bleachers to the right of his gate, off to the very corner, very missable. It appears she took a seat closest to the exit, he thinks it is just like her to want to be seated near the closest escape point.

He now directs his attention to the other gate across the ring.

“OOON THIS CORNER, WE HAVE-- … OH? WHAT IS THIS? A SURRRRPRIIIISE CONTENDERRRR! TAKE A GOOD LOOK AT HIM, FOLKS! MY SOURCES TELL ME THAT THIS CONTENDER IS NAMED SKY . HE STANDS TALL, HE STANDS LARGE! NO MEASUREMENTS, BUT I WOULD BET MY NEXT CHECK THAT HE BELONGS TO WEIGHT CLASS B! HAH, JUST JOKING! I WOULD NEVER BET MY CHECK! BUT HIS SIZE AND WEIGHT FITS THE BILL! YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS! HIS OPPONENT WILL ALSO COME FROM THE SAME CLASS! FAIR FIGHTS, AM I RIGHT?”

Crimson eyes Dahlia, she eyes him right back. Her expression looks terribly worried, regretful even, but he can feel the hope and confidence she is putting in him. It is all he needs.

The show-mare up in the box seats comes down on Rhye's lap, smiling down at the black-haired man. “Oo, he’s quite the looker, isn’t he?~”

Rhye nickers. “Looks don’t win fights, darlin’,” he replies with his grainy voice.

“Sometimes, I wish they would~” she nestles her muzzle under his chin. “He’s gorgeous~”

Amused at her flattery, Rhye chuckles twice, “Tell ya' what, sweet thing, if this fella survives, we’ll nag him up. Sound good?”

“Ooh, daddy, you always know how to make a filly smile!~” She leans in and gives the honcho a deep, sloppy kiss.

“CHAMBERED AND READY TO GO, OOOON THIS CORNER," the announcer points his hoof to the opposite side of the pit, "WE HAAAAAVE… FAELIOOOOO!”

Crimson sees the gate on the other end tremble and begin to rise.

“A WEIGHT CLASS B FAVORITE, FAELIO COMES BACK INTO THE ARENA! HE STANDS AT SEVENTY INCHES, HE'S TWO-HUNDRED AND TWENTY POUNDS, AND HE’S HUNGRY FOR A THROW-DOWN!”

The gate finishes its ascent. A grey human, with dark green hair that is trimmed and spiky, stands at the archway. He begins to walk forward, approaching his opponent. His face is expressionless, the light green eyes in his head are dilated in a bestial fashion.

“GET YOUR BEER, GET YOUR SNACKS! THE FIGHT. STARTS. NOOOOOOW!”

Crimson stands on his side of the ring, his hair and the heavy lighting of the warehouse shades over his face. He does not move. The gates that gave him entrance to the ring close behind him.

Seconds pass, still, he remains in place, unmoving, motionless. Faelio does not appear very happy about his lack of motion.

“WHY ISN’T THAT ONE MOVIN’!?” a random member of the crowd questions.

“HE’S JUST STANDING THERE!” another speaks in agitation.

“HE SCARED!?”

The crowd grows increasingly displeased with Crimson’s stillness. Faelio’s jaw flexes left and right, turning his walking approach into a light jog, then, a full sprint. The distance is closed in a second.

“GRAAH!” Faelio lunges forward and brings in his right fist towards Crimson’s face.

Crimson moves exactly when the punch is thrown, stepping left, feeling the fist fly by as wind grazes his cheek. He flows the side-step into a counter-punch, he pistons his own fist into a right haymaker at the grey human’s face. The combined force of Crimson’s already mountainous punch and the momentum that Faelio had when approaching him with mix into a devastating blow.

BRRKRAAK!

The cartilage of the grey human’s nose is broken into shards and driven up into his brain. If the blunt-force trauma was not enough to instantly kill him, the shards of cartilage piercing his cerebral cortex was. The strength of the punch rocks the grey human’s entire body back, head first. He is propelled backwards in a cart-wheeling spin, skipping along the dirt until his body comes to a rolling end at the middle of the ring. Blood pools from his head as he lies on the dirt, dead.

The death was quick and painless, just as Crimson had hoped. The crowd lets out a loud, collective gasp.

…

Rhye, the show-mare, and his guards lean in and stare at the black-haired man with focused eyes.

…

“YYYEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” The crowd loses it.

“HOLY SHITBALLS ON A STICK, FOLKS! THAT ROUND TOOK SIXTEEN AND A HALF SECONDS! JUST TWO SECONDS SHY OF THE RING RECORD! WHOEVER SKY IS, HE PERSONALLY BROUGHT US TICKETS TO THE GUNSHOW! LOOK AT THOSE ARMS! THOSE BACK MUSCLES! LOOK AT THE DEVASTATION THAT RIGHT STRAIGHT CAUSED! WE DON’T WHERE YOU CAME FROM, SKY, BUT THE BETS ARE DOWN! ONE OF YOU LUCKY RASCALS OUT THERE JUST NETTED YOURSELF FIVE. HUNDRED. THOUUUUSAND BIIIIIIITS!”

“HRYEAH! YEAH!”

“YOU FUCKIN’ ROCK, SKY!”

“DID YOU SEE HOW FAR THAT OTHER GUY FLEW!?”

Crimson’s bitter expression is directed at the lifeless human he did not want to kill. He had no real reason to end his life, other than for the entertainment of the sick, twisted animals watching him. But he knows he needs that relic. This is the price to pay to solve their mystery. For wanting to help save Equestria. For wanting to be the good guy.

“Fer pullin' me away from my sister.”

Dahlia sees the severity under Crimson's stoic indifference. Her worry only increases, not only because she fears for his safety, but because of the unhealthy interest the crowd is taking into him.

Magic suddenly envelops Crimson, and he is dragged back to his gate and practically slammed on it. The mystical aura around him is the same shade of blue that kept the lock secure on his cage.

The announcer-stallion looks over to the box seats, he sees Rhye waving him over. He is quick to fly to him and hover at his side. “What’cha got for me, boss?” asks the announcer with enthusiasm.

“That human. Sky. That name's familiar."

"That's because it is, boss!" the announcer explains merrily. "His name has been circulating within the Family for a few days now!"

"Huh," Rhye licks the bottom row of his teeth with an opened mouth. "Who’s his owner?”

“Oh, I, uh," he presses the earpiece he has equipped in his left ear. "Hey. Sky's owner. Name. ... Name, you fucking shit-licker! ... What? How the fuck do you spell that? ... P. S. I. W? ... Alright." He composes from his anger and smiles to Rhye again. "A pony going by the name Psseew! Tan pegasus mare, compass cutie-mark."

"Psiw, huh? Get one of my guys to find out where she's sittin'."

"On the double, boss!"

"And, uh... she new in town or she been on the roster?"

"Very new! Must have just showed up today or something! We had a lot of contestants drop out today, so Sky was probably pushed up in the queue by the coordinator!”

“Ye… ye, prolly. Look… this Sky guy… he looks… different. Somethin’ about ‘im, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I feel you there, boss! Might be jacked up on something!”

“Ye. To accommodate for this Sky fella… we’re changin’ it up tonight. Tell the crowd that we’re skippin’ right into the advanced bracket.”

“Oho, you betcha, Rhye!” the announcer waves and quickly flies back out into the crowd.

“The advanced bracket, daddy?” the mare on the honcho’s lap questions. “Isn’t that… really dangerous? What if he doesn’t make it? I can’t have a dead human as a pet.”

“Ah, don’t you worry, darlin’. I’m sure he can handle it,” he says with a hint of cynicism.

The mare tilts her head in an uneasy manner.

“LOOKS LIKE WE’RE SWITCHING THINGS UP TONIGHT, FOLKS!" the announcer preaches whilst performing twirls in the air. "IN THE LIGHT OF OUR NEWCOMER, SKY, ORDERS FROM UP ABOVE SAY WE FLIP THE SCENE!”

The audience sounds more than just pleased at the turn of events. Three spotlights in the coliseum aim at Crimson when the announcer calls him out. The man squints his eyes in annoyance and remains with his back against the cold steel gate.

“WE’RE PULLING OUT ALL THE STOPS AND JUMPING RIGHT INTO OUR ADVANCED BRACKET! THAT MEANS MORE BLOOD! MORE DEATH! AND MOOOOOORE FUUUUN! WORD FROM OUR COORDINATORS SAY WE GOT OUR NEXT FIGHTER! KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED... MAKE SURE YOU DON’T BLINK… SHE’S FAST, SHE’S ANGRY, SHE’S REALLY FREAKIN’ SMALL! STANDING AT FORTY EIGHT INCHES AND WEIGHING IN AT NINETY-NINE POUNDS, IT’S… SODA-CAAAAAAAN!”

The spotlights begin to wander again. Crimson blinks a few times and focuses his vision on the rising gate at the other end of the ring.

The announcer watches the rising gate in anticipation. It trembles, then slowly lifts off the ground… “… AAAAND… ROUNDSTARTGO!”

“Irh,” Crimson's eyes dilate and he takes on step back as he feels a gash on his chest. The gate had not even finished rising before a green streak came from under, flew nearly thirty feet, and swiped at him. The streak has stopped behind him, he seldom has time to turn around and look at his opponent before the streak flies by and slices at his right cheek. The cuts are horizontal, small, and jagged. Crimson grunts in annoyance as he fails to keep up with the blur, he is not even sure what is attacking him. He tugs at the urge to use his Arch to heighten his senses, but the collar around his neck binds him.

The blurring figure finally stops and presents herself in the middle of the ring, next to the dead human from the round before. Crimson gets a good look at her, her naked form pants slowly from anger and delirium rather than exhaustion. Her nails are not incredibly long, but they look unnaturally sharp. She is indeed a very small human, her body is thin and athletic. Her skin is a light green color while her hair is yellow with streaks of white. Crimson cannot understand why she got the name ‘Soda-Can.’ Her face would be adorable, with her large expressive eyes and tiny nose, if she was not staring at him with the most non compos mentis look he had ever seen.

Crimson raises his guard, deciding that blocking her fairly weak but bleed-inducing attacks would be easier than trying to dodge them. She’s too fast for him to throw a punch successfully without the aid of his Arch. He wonders how a human can be this fast, but the thought does not linger. He is surrounded by talking equines that use magic spells and can talk. A breakneck human is one of the more tame phenomena.

Soda gets on all fours, she becomes a blur again. Crimson shifts his guard to intercept. A fresh, jagged cut appears on his forearm as he blocks his abdomen from the swipe. Soda stops behind him again, her eyes tremble unstably, and she growls angrily. She did not appreciate having her attack blocked.

“UREEEEE!” Soda screeches as she dashes again. Crimson is still facing forward, giving her his back. He reaches his right arm behind his head quickly, he protects his nape from being gashed open by the flying razor-blade. Soda lands and stops in front of him again, definitely not enjoying this man’s ability to safe-guard himself from her attacks. “REEEEEE!” she darts again. Crimson’s right forearm takes the slash instead of his pectoral. She darts again, he protects his left cheek. She darts again, he shields his left-abdomen. She finds a rhythm of death, darting at him at different angles. Crimson remains in place and blocks the swipes, his blood splats and paints the ground around him as his arms take the abuse.

Soda dashes one more time before she lands back at the center of the ring, panting profusely as her little body is running out of energy. She gawks at Crimson with spiteful rage, he should be dead by now. No one has ever lasted this long with her. She finds immense displeasure at his existence, and the sheer amount of blood he seems to have. “EEEE!” she screeches one more time and dashes, lashing out with both hands this time, directing themselves towards his eyes and neck simultaneously. Crimson reaches his guard and protects both targeted locations, but—

“Nrh!?” Crimson’s eyes shoot open, his body freezes. The audience gasps as one unit. … Everything stops. … Silence. … He can hear Soda’s quiet panting just below him. … The man slowly moves his arm away from his eyes and looks down. Their eyes meet, his and Soda’s. Her light-yellow orbs stare back up at his with psychotic wrath. Her tiny hands, trembling and shaky, grip onto Crimson's underwear, holding his testicles. Her hands are cupped around them, her nails punch through the cloth. Her exhausted form is failing to take down her bleeding opponent, so she resorts to the easiest form of taking a man down.

… Crimson tries to slowly move his arms down to her—“Mrk!” he squints, feeling her grip around his balls tightening. She applies more pressure every time he tries to move. It is not enough to cause pain just yet, but any more pressure and it will most definitely hurt. He stares into her dandelion orbs with hesitation. Soda’s lips take on a wide, hysterical smile as her eyes widen so much they almost pop out of her head.

The little human is enjoying herself now, she is loving every second of this. The face of the man, which she holds captive, is giving her goosebumps. That dilated, fearful expression he makes is bliss for the little maniac. She licks her lips deviously, tugging gently at his scrotum.

“Frh!”

The crowd remains silent, watching intently. The males in the crowd reach down and protect their own child-sacks out of pure instinct.

Soda keeps staring into his eyes with that volatile glower. She stares into his eyes… into his eyes…

… a hazel brown coloration which suddenly harks gold.

Crimson throws all precaution out the window as his eyes begin to glow under his hair. He stares back into Soda’s with conviction. Suddenly, the little human’s smile drops, her eyes dilate, and they too begin to glow gold with his Arch.

He performs one of the few things he has ever learned to do, at the cost of the collar asphyxiating him. Something he swore he would never to do to anyone ever again...

... sharing memory into another being.

Ridiculously, his Arch shoots like a bullet into Soda through their point of contact - his nuts. He speaks to her soul, tapping into her very core. The same way he can channel into someone to take pain away, the same process can be used to look into their most profound psyche. Just as he can transfer physical cells into another person's body, he send thoughts into their mind the same way - a physical and metaphysical interaction.

He is able to speak to her and transfer thoughts without physically speaking. He found out this functions on any creature that has a functional brain that can receive and interpret stimuli. He quickly realized that this ‘soul-speaking’ does not cause harm when performed with temperance, but it was arduous to learn how to do it properly, and dangerously easy to give too much information. In this case, he is performing it with the intention to overwhelm. It can cause damage to the brain in the form of electrical impulse overcharges: headaches, blackouts, aneurysms, a coma... even death.

Before the collar saps him from his power, Crimson crams all sorts of memories, ideas, thoughts, and trauma into Soda’s mind at random. The bombardment of her brain instantly overwhelms her senses, and on the same token, his as well. Soda is forced to accept Crimson's suffering, and Crimson is forced to take Soda's torment.

Her glowing eyes become crossed and her chin tucks. She lets go his testicles when her arms spasm inwards. She sputters and spits, saliva drips from her mouth as she twitches.

In the same instant her eyes cross, the collar drains Crimson of his energy.

"Nnrh!" “Uck-eck…”

Crimson staggers back and falls onto one knee as Soda's eyes begin to close and open unevenly. Visions flash, screams of horror and anguish. He swallows it all like a horrid nightmare. Not so prepared and lucky, the synapses of Soda's brain are thoroughly electrified and burnt.

Panting lightly, the man lifts his eyes at the little human in pity. He saw into her soul while the brief exchange of information occurred. He saw the life of this little human in a brief flash. She was bred and born for the sole purpose of fighting in this ring. Her insanity cultivated from her lifetime of existence in this hell. Her love of causing pain and torment manifested from having to endure it herself.

One thought crosses his mind: her execution would be her greatest gift.

The crowd riles up again and barks in confusion as the announcer illustrates his shock. “I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IN THE FREAKY-FLYING-FUCK IS GOING ON EITHER, FOLKS! JUST WHAT IN EQUESTRIA IS HAPPENING DOWN THERE!?”

Crimson rises and walks to Soda. He reaches down and picks up the convulsing girl from her neck, just above her collar, lifting her up effortlessly. She doesn’t fight back, she is incapable. He closes his eyes, takes in a breath, and breaks her neck with the same hand he holds her with.

He brings her in and holds her like a bride. He listlessly walks to the edge of the ring and rests her down on the ground next to his gate. He stands back up and idles there, looking down at her small, lifeless body.

…

“WELL SHOVE A BROOM IN MY BACKDOOR AND CALL ME SCARECROW! YOU SAW IT HERE, FOLKS! WAS IT MAGIC? WHO KNOWS! WAS IT STUNNING? MOST DEFINITELY! WAS IT A MAJOR UPSET FOR NEXT WEEK'S BETS ON SODA-CAN’S TOTAL VICTORY!? YOU CAN BET YOUR BROKE ASS IT WAS! ANOTHER WHOPPING FIVE-HUNDRED THOUUUUUSAND BITS TO THE WINNEEEEER! WITNESS ALL OF THIS AND MORE, HERE AT THE APPLEWOOD RRRRIIING RUNNEEEEEEEERS!”

The crowd enjoys the display of senseless violence and mishap as they cheer loudly once again. They praise the black-haired man, and spit volatile words at the deceased girl that made many lose money.

Crimson's soul burns in anger as he continues to watch Soda’s body. He turns his head to see Faelio’s corpse after. The death of those two are on his hands. They were not evil individuals, they were not blinded by greed or lust. They were forced into the nightmare that their life was, with no other alternative. He can only takes solace in the fact that they were finally put to rest.

Dahlia’s ears are flat on her head as she watches the man with utter stupefaction. She can barely see it, but it is there. She wonders if even he realizes it is happening. His eyes are still glowing golden from under his hair. Luckily, the drunk and chaotic crowd seems to be missing it completely, even failing to catch the glow of Soda’s eyes which had faded after her death.

Dahlia can feel the vexation being irradiated from him.

“You’re fuckin’ with me!” Rhye slams his hoof onto the wooden armrest of his chair in seething anger. “That was one of ma’ best fighters!”

"How'd he do that?" the show-mare asks. "Do you think it's magic, daddy?"

"… I’m thinkin’ it is, darlin'. Maybe why this human’s got a real sharp edge.” He shifts his eyes to the mare, grinning, "Darlin', do we know of any other human dats got magic?”

“Mmm,” she thinks for a moment. “… Heidi?”

“Ye… Heidi.”

The mare’s brows furrow in worry, “… Daddy? You won't make Sky fight her, will you?”

Rhye squints his eyes, now directing them to the announcer who entertains the masses. He charges his horn.

The announcer stallion is suddenly enveloped in light blue magic and is blinked over to the box seats, dropped onto the ground at the hooves of Rhye. “Egh-rrh. Uh, uhm, h-how can I help you, boss?” he asks nervously as he rises and fixes the collar of his shirt.

“Listen… I don’t think I appreciate Sky's attendance no more. He ain’t strokin’ me the right way… y’know?”

“Ah, I-I sure do know, boss! Agreed totally!” beads of sweat trickle down the announcer’s face and neck.

“So you know what? Fuck the third round, I don’t wanna see this… black-haired bitch muckin’ up my ring no longer. Tell the lovely crowd I’m switchin’ it around again. We’re bringin’ in my girl to take care of this fuckin’ weasel. Once and for all.”

“Yeah! Will do, Rhye! Y-You’re the boss!” The announcer smiles wryly and forces a chuckle. He flies back out towards the crowd.

“B-But, daddy!” the mare starts with a saddened tone. “He’s going to die! I thought he was going to be mine!”

“Sush, darlin’. That prick down thea’s gonna run me outta business if this keeps up. No way I’m lettin’ some rando-asshole walk into my home with their scum-bag magic human and walk out with my bits.”

“B-But… daddy…”

The stallion suddenly turns his head and gawks at the mare in his hold. His grip around her tightens to an uncomfortable level, making it difficult for her to breath. “Daddy. Is running out of patience. Darlin’. Don’t make daddy get his belt now. Mmkay?” The struggling, fearful mare nods quickly.

“WELL, FOLKS, I HAVE RECEIVED YET ANOTHER TABLE-FLIPPER FROM THE BIG STALLION UPSTAIRS!” The crowd cheers even though they don’t know what he’s talking about. “THANK THE STARS ABOVE THAT YOU PAID REGULAR TICKET PRICE TODAY, BECAUSE WE’RE GETTING A PREMIUM SHOW! READY YOURSELVES, WE HAVE THE GREAT PLEASURE OF MAKING HER IMPECCABLE PRESENCE TONIGHT! IF YOU’RE SOMEBODY WHO’S ANYBODY HERE, YOU KNOW WHO I MEAN! THE CROWD-FAVORITE. THE STONE-FISTED BEAUTY. THE CAREER-ENDER. THE UNDISPUTED CHAMPION OF THE RING: HEIDIIIIIIIII!”

Crimson directs his resentful glare at the gate on the far end once more, waiting for the next human to stand before their executioner.

The gate rises. The body of the opponent is a silhouette until they step out into the ring.

A towering, muscular female human steps out into the ring. Her hair is a bright blonde color, her eyes are ponds of deep, entrancing green. Her naked skin is a blemishless porcelain white.

She begins to walk. It is already at this point that a stake have driven itself into Crimson's soul. He is becoming confused, his expression completely flips around. Anger is traded for perturbation. His brows lower as his jaw falls.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK FOLKS!? WILL OUR LOVELY HEIDI CONTINUE HER REIGN AS QUEEN OF THE RING? OR WILL SKY COME FROM UNDER AND SNATCH THE TITLE AS OUR NEW CHAMPION!? LEEET’S FIND OUTT! REAADYYY...? BEGIIIN!”

The shock found on Crimson’s face is enough to make Dahlia’s stomach turn. She does not know what he sees in his new opponent, but she cannot think of a reason for him to make such an expression.

The crowd vibrates in their seats from the anticipation.

Crimson begins to slowly walk towards her, extending his hands forward carefully. His face remains in its disconcerted state. Heidi walks towards him as well. They both take slow and dramatic steps until they meet face-to-face in the center of the ring. They stand but inches apart. They breath onto each other’s faces, the woman angrily and seriously, Crimson breathlessly and desperately.

Heidi is the exact same height as Crimson, standing at almost seven feet. Her squinting green eyes stare into his.

The man slowly reaches out to hold her face in his hand, utterly speechless. He touches her face, and to everyone's surprise, Heidi allows him to. For a moment, Crimson caresses her perfect face, touching her priceless skin.

He cannot believe what he is seeing.

BRAK!

A fist drives into Crimson's face, pummeling him backwards so he spins like a missile. He stops when he collides onto the steel gate that served as his entrance.

The punch was loud, devastating, and filled with violence. A punch that can send the head right off of one’s shoulders. He quickly rises and wipes the blood off of his mouth and nose. He has little time to orient himself as Heidi is charging at him like a raging bull.

Just before the collision, Crimson leaps up high into the air and over her. The crowd ‘Oooo’s in awe, now realizing that Crimson could probably just leap out of the deeply-dug arena if he wanted to. But they do not care. They want to watch the fight.

He lands behind Heidi just as she shoulder-bashes the steel gate, creating a big dent in it shaped exactly like her shoulder. She turns around sharply and gawks at Crimson, walking towards him again. He backpedals in response.

“Heidi? Why’re you doing this?”

Heidi begins to weave left and right as she moves forward. Her large yet agile body forms an infinity symbol as she weaves. Crimson raises his guard just in time to—

THRAK!

--block a punch thrown by the woman. The punch is like a chunk of stone crashing into his already cut-up guard. Crimson grunts in pain but remains with his arms up.

THRAK!

THRAK!

THRAK! THRAK! THRAK! THRAK! THRAK!

She continues throwing these powerful punches from left and right hooks. Every time she weaves into a new direction, she throws a hook along with it.

”Heidi! Why are you fightin’ me!?”

She does not listen to him. She continues striking. Her attacks are backed by preternatural power. The masses that are her fists crash against his guard over and over. The dirt under them is pushed away in a circle from the wind force of each punch. Crimson’s arms start to tremble, they are giving away.

The man clenches his teeth. He is going to have to fight back.

Crimson leaps back away from her punching range, but Heidi quickly leaps forward to close the distance again. Though, she does not anticipate him to leap forward again once she does, causing them to collide into each other. Crimson reaches out quickly and grapples Heidi, he grasps her head and brings it down so their ears and cheeks rub against each other.

“Heidi, listen to me, don’t do this, please,” he whispers frantically, hiding his face between both his and her hair.

She tries to drive her knee into his stomach, but Crimson raises his leg in response, causing their knees to collide with each other with a bony thump. They both grunt in pain.

“HEIDI," he whisper shouts into her ear again. "LISTEN TO ME.”

The woman grits her teeth. Crimson’s exasperation accelerates when he feels his face become wet with something less viscous than blood. He turns his eyes to her cheek. A tear traveled from Heidi’s eye, staining the man's face. “Kill… me,” she rasps into his ear in barely comprehensible English.

The whispered words distract Crimson, giving Heidi an opportunity to break free. She rears her head back to headbutt him. Crimson replies by driving his own forehead forward. A resounding slam, they both wince in pain, remaining plastered on each other. Their noses press together, they stare into each other’s eyes again, their hair hides their faces away from the spectators.

Crimson sees it, he is allowed to see it. Heidi… her eyes are flickering from her natural green color to a corrupted grey. She is trying to activate her Arch, she is trying to channel it as a normal Arch Angel would. She is demonstrating its shattered, unfulfilled state to him. He sees it, the fissuring grey color which tells a story grim: an angel that had succumbed to the toils of the world around her.

Fragments piece together, the inner voice in his soul speaks this to him - the same voice that allowed Autumn's true voice speak to him. That voice comes with a feeling, a sensation. It is the same sensation he feels when he is near Viola - the sensation of being in proximity of another Arch Angel.

He cannot read her memories, they are hazy and disunited. Her mind is a mess. How long she has been in Equestria is unreadable, the people she has met are forgotten. What caused to her end up in this land, what caused her soul to die, it is an indecipherable mess of consciousness. Her Arch does not listen to her. He could not know the events of her life which lead to this end, stuck in this god-forsaken ring.

Crimson fails to find out anything about her, try as he might. He cannot understand why she is doing this. Could she escape? Of course. Why has she not? He could not know. He stares into her beautifully tragic eyes, while his own glow in their proud, golden state. He can tell she jealously admires them, yearning for a release of her prison…

She breaks off of him, backing up a step and getting some distance from him. She throws a strike towards Crimson’s face, where he catches her slow but powerful fist with his left hand. He counters, striking forward with his right. It collides with her face, staggering her and streaking blood from her mouth. Heidi bounces back instantly, throwing another hook, driving it into the man’s jaw as a return. Crimson’s poise remains true, and he swings again, upper-cutting into her abdomen. She keels at the impact and coughs bloodied spit onto his chest. She rises up again, swinging her elbow up and bashing it onto Crimson’s cheek.

The crowd is going insane. The thundering blows, the copious amounts of blood, it is making them riot. Black Horseshoe guards begin to come out of the shadows and perform crowd-control procedures, as the pumped swarm nearly begins to brawl one-another. Dahlia remains on the outskirts of the bleachers and avoids the mess, watching in awe.

The two angels enter a savage slugfest. They do not bother with blocking. They trade blows until one of them remains on their feet.

THUM! THUM!

THUM! THUM! THUM!

THUM!

THUM! THUM!

Their blows resonate against each other’s flesh like mortar canon shots. Blood scatters around the arena with each punch landed. Tears and blood run down Heidi’s face as she continues to trade earth-shattering blows with the only physically worthy opponent she has ever faced.

The two lean forward, resting their heads on each other’s shoulders, and begin to beat on each other’s abdomen, over and over and over. They hold their breaths, they continue striking until one of them gives in. Their bodies react every time a hit is landed. Heidi lands a bone-crushing strike, Crimson’s eyes pulsate golden in reaction to the killing force. Heidi’s eyes throb their depressive grey color every time Crimson lands a pulverizing strike. The Arch inside their bodies does its best to soften the blows and reduce trauma, but the damage becomes too much to handle.

After receiving another stomach blow, Crimson's spit gushes from between his teeth. He follows up with one more short first into her abdomen.

THUM!

Heidi gasps, before commencing to coughing her bodily fluids out. The finally lets go of Crimson and staggers back, heaving and spitting blood onto the ground.

Crimson remains of his feet, hunched and holding his stomach while keeping his unevenly opened eyes on her.

She rasps breathlessly. Heidi grits her teeth as more tears run down her cheeks. Her inner emotions can no longer be contained, and she begins to sob amidst her anguish. At this point, the crowd has gone so crazy, they are not even watching.

The crying woman inhales quickly multiple times, mustering the rest of her lifeforce together, and releases out as a harrowing warcry the way only a Vanguard could. Crimson’s skin litters with goosebumps. He feels it coming, and he drops his guard voluntarily.

Heidi throws a steel-breaking right straight into Crimson’s cheek, plastering her fist onto it and leaving it there.

Crimson poises the attack, his feet dig three inches into the dirt to absorb it and prevent himself from flying back. He takes it, holding still with her fist still at his cheek.

His eyes droop unevenly. He exhales breathily. “Ehrh… nh...” He staggers back, off of her fist. As he begins to fall backwards, his body throws one more despairing swing before he collapses onto his back. The desperate strike lands right on Heidi’s jaw, and even though the punch was forlorn, it was enough to knock the last spec of light out from her greying eyes. Her head is rocked to the side from the miserable strike, and she begins to sway back and forward.

She steps forward once to try and keep her balance, but fails to stay on her feet. She falls face down, landing on top of Crimson. They struggle together, finally able to rest.

Dahlia holds her hooves over her mouth, her magenta orbs dance with light as they gleam with her despair.

The crowd is so excited, they nearly jump into the pit. “HOLD ONTO YOUR PANTIES, FOLKS! THEY’RE STILL ALIVE! THE ROUND IS NOT OVER UNTIL ONE OF THEM IS DEAAAAAAAD!”

Rhye leans forward in his seat, sweating bullets.

“D-Daddy, are you okay?!” the show-mare asks cautiously.

He does not bother replying to her. He watches, mortified, as his prized fighter is lying on the other human, beaten and ruined.

Heidi begins to reach up and grasp Crimson’s neck, but without force. She simply holds it. She uses it as leverage to pull her dying self upwards, dragging her naked form along Crimson’s, practically frictionless from the blood and sweat. She makes herself at eyelevel with the man under her, trembling violently. They stare into each other’s eyes again, her irises are no longer flickering. They are lightly glowing like a void pool of grey.

“Crimson… Sky…” Crimson’s expressionless face registers Heidi's voice, strong and womanly. She is whispering into his soul. She reads into his soul, taking his name into her mind. “Your Arch... is beautiful. ... Please… take my eyes... they will never... see…”

Her Arch flickers one last time in her irises. They become a harrowed, afflicted mix of gold and grey. Her moribund consciousness composes itself the best it can, recollecting a few final memories and whispering them into the man under her.

Crimson hears her voice again. Arch Angel Heidi Berceuse from the Vanguard Tower... now he understands why she was so though to take down. Tower, nearly impossible to topple, but do not have the same regenerative abilities of the Martyrdom. Her heavily weakened strength and the prolonged slugfest gave him the edge to emerge victorious.

Heidi attempts to speak one final thing to Crimson, the words she utters into him cause a hollowing pit in his stomach. "Deny it... no longer. Cast it... away... your hate. Your fury. Accept... your gift. Do not... follow me... please...

Her eyes lose glow and color, and her head falls. Her cheek rests against the side of his neck.

Crimson's languidly glowing eyes stare at the ceiling of the coliseum, gaping into the null. The crowd is drowned away to background noise by his stargazing. The last words she spoke tear into his spirit.

…

The only other Arch Angel he has ever met who was not his family. And he had to kill her.

...

The deafening roars of the crowd are drowned out as the ringing in his ears blocks everything out. He gently, with tender care, hugs Heidi and sets her aside. He rests her on her side, her half-lidded eyes gazing into a nothingness only she knows.

He slowly reaches with two fingers and shuts her eyelids. He grunts and puffs, forcing his hurting body to stand up. Once on his feet, he lets out a deep sigh. And with that, the sounds of the world return to him. Just barely.

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!” “YEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAH!” “WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“UN. FRIGGIN’. BELIEVABLEEEEEE! YOU SAW IT HERE, FOLKS! HEIDI, THE REIGNING DEFENDER FOR ALMOST FOURTY YEARS, HAS BEEN DEEEEFEEATEEEEEEED! A NEW CHAMPION HAS RISEN! WHAT ELSE COULD WE THROW AT SKY!? WHAT ELSE COULD MATCH HIS GREATNESS!? I’LL TELL YOU WHAT! JACK. FUCKING. SHIIIIIIIIIIIT!” He briefly stops, bringing a hoof to his earpiece. “THE VOICES FROM ABOVE TELL ME THE ADVANCED BRACKET IS OVER! TODAY’S PRIZE POOL, INCLUDING THE SUPER RARE BONUS PRIZE, ALL GOES TO ONE AUSPICIOUS PONY OUT THERE! BUT DON'T WORRY, WE'VE GOT PLENTY OF OTHER PRIZES STILL LEFT FOR THE EVENING BRAWLERS! LUCKY US, WE HAD FREELANCE SIGN-UPS LIKE CRAAAZY AFTER SKY'S VICTORY POT! WE’LL RETURN TO OUR STARTER'S BRACKET AFTER A FEW MESSAGES! STICK AROUND FOR MORE ADRENALINE-FULED CHAOS! RIGHT HERE, AT THE RIIIIIIIING RUNNEEEEEEERS! ”

The crowds, somehow able to be controlled by the surrounding guards, chant and throw praise towards the man who stands bloodied and battered in the middle of ring. He can barely keep his footing, his eyes focus on nothing.

Though his victory is not savored for long. Unexpectedly, his body becomes enveloped in light blue magic, it crawls and creeps on him, until the world around him distorts madly. He finds himself teleported elsewhere, a place that is quiet, is warmly lit, contains a pleasant smell of… peaches?

He does not know, and he will not know. Right then, his consciousness escapes him, and his world turns to nothing.

Throes of Defiance

~ The Weave, Crimson's Rift ~<

‎

A calming breeze wisps across his hair and face. Strangely, there are no scents to pick up, but much to feel. Dream-like and hazy, Crimson opens his eyes.

He finds himself laying on his back, staring up to a maelstrom of dark clouds, grey skies, jaded lightning. It takes him but a moment to register where he is. He hardly remembers what he was doing before ending up here.

He sits up, greeted with an infinite expanse of monochromatic grass. He cranes his neck to the left - his heart jumps at seeing his home, the modest construct of his property he unwillingly abandoned in New Mexico.

He holds the urge to verbally question his situation. Instead, he rises, crunching grey grass under his boots, and begins to walk to the porch. He ascends the wooden steps, one after the other, until he reaches the front door. He takes the handle, grips it firmly in a mixture of nostalgic remembrance and hesitation, and opens it. The inside of his home blows warmth and comfort, physically and emotionally. The home is lit by the lanterns and candles he knows and holds dear.

He steps in, turning his head to the right to look into the kitchen. Everything is neatly organized and untouched. He turns his head to the left. The living room is just as he remembers it, the two couches, a rocking chair, and a coffee table with a radio on it.

He walks further into the home and lets the front door close on its own. He walks straight, heading into the hall that houses the doors to the other parts of his home. Each door is closed. He proceeds to open them and peek in as he passes them.

A door to the right has the washroom, nothing is out of place, the basin and toilet are as clean as ever.

The first door on the left is Viola's old room, now used as storage. The same boxes, the same dust, everything as it was since the home was finished and resided in.

The next room of the left his the bedroom, the one which they share. The bed is made, the comforter and pillows are undisturbed. Grey light peers through the translucent curtains and give the room a feeling he cannot describe.

The last room on the right is also storage, and strangely, the door was left slightly ajar. He peeks through the gap, seeing nothing misplaced. He closes it and takes a step back, standing idle in the hall for a moment.

He returns to the junction between the living room and the kitchen. Everything is just as he remembers. This manifestation brightens his memory. He is happy to see it again...

... but to his great disappointment, Viola is nowhere to be found. Not even a trace of her spending idle time here, save for the opened door. It is very much like her to leave everything neat and nearly perfect. How he misses her... so much. So much so, he feels his stomach hollowing out. He feels his eyes becoming moist as they scan around the home idly.

Regardless of how he feels, It is good that she heeded his advice not to sit in his Rift for the rest of time, but...

He shakes his head. There are no buts. She is doing well for herself back at home...

... hopefully.

He walks to the rocking chair, turns languidly, and lets himself fall back into it. He rocks steadily from the force of his drop. He lets the chair comfort him as he fights the urge to let tears fall.

‎

~ The Applewood Ring Runners, Rhye's Office ~<
April 4th, Tuesday, 18:39

‎

Dahlia darts her dilated gaze around the room in a panic, having been teleported sooner than she could realize it had happened. She is still visibly shaken from the fight she had to witness, rubbing her eyes promptly to wipe the forming emotion from them. She notes that Crimson stands right next to her, his mouth slightly hung with no expression to be discerned, yet his eyes passively glow from under his hair. It is faint, hardly noticeable, but she thinks it is the reason he is even standing right now.

She looks forward. To her front lies an oak desk with a fat, very displeased looking stallion sat behind it. More than just displeased, it looks like he is ready to pop a blood vessel and stroke. He has two unicorn henchmen at either side, totaling to four, and a very attractive mare just beside him. Behind him is a window that looks out to southern Equestria - the forecasted rainfall patters along the glass.

Just behind her to her left, another henchmen stands posted in the corner of the room next to the door. Another henchmen stands adjacent just behind Crimson on the opposite corner. Six total goons.

The fat stallion, who comes to be the center of attention, leans forward, putting his hooves on the table. “… Good… evening,” his gritty voice huffs, visibly trying to stay composed.

“… Hey,” Dahlia replies mistrustfully. She cannot stop her eyes from bouncing between him and the show-mare who still wears the necklace donning the relic.

"Heh." He twitches a smile, one somewhat unhinged. "Come on, now... beautiful mare like yourself don't need to be so... distant."

"I think I'll stay where I'm at, thanks."

Fighting to breathe, the stallion coughs, “Hrh, sure. Sure. ... That was… a good show ya’ put out there… with yer human.”

Eyes are directed to Crimson now. Still, he stands there, saying or doing nothing except idle with his mouth hung.

“He’s something alright,” Dahlia states dismissively, though takes one step closer to him to stand right by his side.

“Hrh. Hehe. Hrh!” the fat stallion enters a coughing fit. The room waits for him as he struggles, slowly but surely, he calms down and clears his throat. “Hrrhh… yeah. Yeah he is. … ‘Lil missy…” he gives Dahlia a pop-eye’d glare, “… d’you know who I am?”

“Can’t say I do,” she remarks snidely.

The stallion forms a cheek to cheek grin. “Then… allow me to introduce myself. My name… is Rhye Colton. Maybe ya’ heard of me. This is my establishment.”

Dahlia squints. “Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t. Look, my human took the pit fair and square. You gonna give me my prize now or what?”

It sounds like Rhye tries to laugh again, but is drowned by another brief cough. “Prize? Hurh. Better. Even better than a prize, for a feisty yet gorgeous little mare like yerself. I’ve got a proposition for ya’.” Dahlia glares at him in silence, giving him the room to continue. “Let me be frank. I know you didn't use yer real name in the sign-up. Yer human just cost me millions worth’a damages today. And let’s just say I don’t take kindly to it. You'll need to pay me back, well in kind.” He scans his orbs up and down Dahlia's form with a licking of his teeth, eliciting his intentions clearly.

Disgusted, Dahlia throws her head back. “What? No fucking way! He killed your fighters in a fight! Duh! Don’t put up a bet if you’re not willing to lose.”

The henchmen and the show-mare all have dilated pupils due to the gossamer attitude Dahlia has towards their boss. The stallion in question becomes ruddier, vibrating in his seat. “Heh! Well!” Rhye begins, opening his hooves to present the warehouse, “see, this here… this place here…” the henchmen around close their eyes, “IS MY FUCKING PIT! IT’S MY PIT! AND IT’S MY FUCKING RULES! BITCH!” Dahlia rears back and squints from the booming volume of Rhye’s screaming, trying not to get spit on even from her distance. “But, heeegh…” Rhye sits back down, acting as if he was always calm and unruffled, “… my proposition. Hrh. There’s somethin’ in the air tonight – I’m feelin’ mighty generous… so instead of havin’ you and yer human here reaped like the sow you are… you’ll be my playthang, AND…” he stops, presenting a very wide, gritty smile, “… I’ll even let you pick a prize. You get Equestria's best cock and a prize! Hah! Truly a double whammy, you know what I'm sayin'? I ain't normally this kind, but… like I said, I got that good hair today. So how ‘bout it? That cute little ass of yers as my dime piece, and you get to pick a prize.” His smile somehow becomes even larger, as if he just said the most gracious thing in existence.

Dahlia looks far from amused, being no stranger to this type of treatment. She glares at this stallion who is literally rejoicing in his own existence. “Huh,” she huffs, “what a deal.”

Rhye laughs once. “Hah! Right! Damn sure is! Hurry up 'n pick already, I can feel the blood flowin' to my loins, heha! What’s it gonna be, eh? You want yer bits? The two-mil, right into yer treasury account? Or you want the relic?”

Dahlia barely contemplates the offer. It is very obvious that none of this is fair and they are being forced to play his game. She gives the man a brief glance, seeing that he is still completely unresponsive. Her heartrate accelerates at this morbid sight, hoping he is still conscious. With a swallowing of saliva and tension, she states firmly, “How about... go fuck yourself, and give me my prize.”

The stallion’s expression contorts wickedly, his blood pressure hits the roof. With a scream from the diaphragm, “HRAAAAA!” he envelops both her and Crimson in his magic. Dahlia struggles as she is lifted into the air by her neck. Crimson is as well, but does not even bother fighting it. He lets his limp body be hung from the ethereal noose. “YOU DON’T GET IT, YOU STUPID FUCK!” Rhye belts. “THAT AIN'T ON THE TABLE! YOU DON’T WALK INTO MY HOUSE AND TAKE MY SHIT! YOU WALK INTO MY HOUSE, AND YOU DO WHAT I SAY! I GET WHAT I WANT HERE! YOU GET THAT, BITCH!?”

Dahlia struggles to take in oxygen, much less able to let out a reply. She hates herself for not having expected this trickery.

“YOU… YOU FUCKIN’ BITCH, HRRH. YOU REALLY DONE PISSED ME OFF. YOU DONE EMBARRASSED ME. I SHOULD SPOON YOUR EYES OUT YOUR FUCKIN’ HEAD, AND FUCK YOUR SKULL!” The henchmen and the show-mare only watch in fear. The show-mare even takes a few steps away from the blistering Rhye.

“Ghak! Hck!” Dahlia’s wings flap in her struggle. She does her best to turn her toiling gaze to Crimson, who looks like a hung corpse.

Rhye steams rage out of his nose like a bull. His twitching frown begins to reform into a demonic smile, watching as saliva begins to stream at the corners of her mouth. “You… hehe, you, bitch… you’re cute when you struggle. It’s… hrrh… stars damn it, you're a cute fuckin' thing~”

Dahlia’s eyes bulge from her sockets. Her struggle becomes even more frantic, causing the magic suspending her to pressure her neck. The grip becomes tighter, the very little air she was able to take in turns to nothing.

“Hhrhehehe… hehehehe…” The fat stallion reclines back in his fancy leather chair, salivating in anticipation. The henchmen turn their trepidation to amusement, but the show-mare looks utterly mortified. “I can't stay mad at you, beautiful. Heh... heheheh…”

Dahlia struggles to look at Crimson again. He is still not acting, still not moving. Her heart is sinking.

The belt around the stallion’s overgrown waist is enveloped in his magic, and with a finesse with his ethereal essence, his erection is displayed to everyone in the room. Once it is free and he laughs a bit further, admiring himself, he begins to bring Dahlia closer.

“Hrah!” Dahlia’s slowly closing eyes begin to run with tears as she turns them to the man, failing to cry out her dismay. “Crhim… saahh…”

Rhye levitates her closer, turning her around and aiming her flank his way. He grips the base of her tail, giddy with laughter, savoring the chance to peek at a new, fresh innocence. His magic pulls her tail up and he tilts his head down, so close to getting an unadulterated peek underneath.

“Die.”

Everyone in the room quakes at the sudden booming utterance that comes from the semi-limp human. Due to focusing on the heinous act of degeneracy, everyone completely failed to notice that the Arch Angel’s eyes became totally eclipsed in gold, vibrantly glowing under his black hair.

Rhye moves Dahlia out of the way, both he and his erection glaring over to Crimson. His body tightens at seeing the man descend onto the ground, no longer being levitated by his magic despite it still being around his neck. “HWAOH!” he screams and tosses Dahlia back, right on top of the show-mare. The two collide and hit the carpet together, Dahlia gasping for air, and the show-mare grunting in pain.

The puppet that is Crimson's body suddenly twirls a spinning backfist-- BRK-CRACK! -- which bashes the head of the henchmen that is right behind him. The henchmen's upper skull becomes a shattered mess which paints brain and blood on the wall.

"HOAAAAAAAH!" Everyone in the room, including Dahlia, screams in horror. The other henchmen located next to the door channels a bolt of magic, while the others try restraining him. The goon fires off his bolt of magic, aimed to Crimson's chest.

It connects, flesh sears at his left pectoral, and it throws his left arm back, though it fails to stop his stride. He leaps towards the goon that fired at him, and within the time of a fearful gasp, he grasps the goon's head and smashes it into the wall, the one made from several layers of industrial steel. The wall hardly dents, but the goon’s head becomes paste, just as his comrade's.

More screams. More terror. The possessed man stumbles his body towards the desk which Rhye sits. All five stallions, Rhye and his four remaining henchmen, further press their magical binds to try and stop him. To no avail, he arrives at the oak desk without a zombified step missed, and he puts his hand under the table, flinging two-hundred pounds of polished wood to the left into the two henchmen standing at Rhye’s right. The desk cripples them upon impact, smashes them into the wall, and gores them like flies to a swatter.

Rhye shrieks like a colt, trembling with his cock still out. He and his remaining two henchmen still try to grasp him again and again with their magic, but for a reason they cannot comprehend, he is unaffected like he was before. He looks to his henchmen, sputtering and fumbling in his panic. “F-Fh-Fuh-Fucking get him! Get him!”

The quaking henchmen begin to charge their horns to fire magical bolts. The time it takes their horns to rev up, the angel extends his hand. Billions of small molecules form from around him and piece together a greatsword of golden light. This act befuddles the unicorn henchmen trying to focus their magic. They manage to charge their attack, they simultaneously fire bolts that melt through flesh, one hitting Crimson on the stomach and the other in the center of his collarbone. His skin sears and singes, his upper body lurches backwards from the force of the hits. He briefly remains bent, as if pulled back to pass under a limbo bar, before he reels forward, giving little time for the henchmen to scream their dismay. The angel swings the sword diagonally to cut the first henchmen in the neck and the second one across the chest in one swoop. The force of the swing bats them to the ground with gashes that glow with magma-like gold, which quickly fades out to a normal laceration. Their discombobulated forms pool blood from their wounds unnaturally, as if an anti-coagulant has affected the cut.

Crimson now turns to Rhye, and for whatever sickening motive, he has not gotten soft. As if he did not recognize he would eventually become the next target, he howls and tries to jump from his chair at the realization of coming death. Crimson lifts his foot and axe-kicks the stallion in mid air, driving him directly onto the floor.

The kick and slam alone is enough to pulverize Rhye's bones and wind him out. The angel walks to him and lifts the sword above his head, his body lopsided as if piloted by invisible strings.

“Aagh, ahrh, w-what in—rrh—the seven levels of tartarus are you!?” Rhye cries in desperation. He receives nothing as a response. “M-My grand—rhh-papi… will find you... y-you'll--hrrrh-- you'll never rest... he--hrhh-he... HE WILL GUT YOU LIKE THE FUCKIN' PIG YOU ARE--!”

The stallion’s head comes clean off with a horizontal swipe of the greatsword. Blood sputters from his fallen head and open neck, and the body becomes limp. The rambunctious stallion is no more.

Crimson’s sword disperses into the aether, his hand briefly stays at the pose of holding the handle before it relaxes. After two seconds of idling, he turns his staggering body around, returning to the two mares who have since recovered and are now mortified at his presence. He briefly ignores Dahlia and reaches down to the necklace around the show-mare's neck. Her river of tears and sobs halt for but a second when he rips the necklace off with a single quick pull. She yelps at the force of the tug before scooting across the ground away from him, until her back presses the wall.

He clenches it tightly, bringing it up to his face to gawk at the orange orb inside the pendant.

He proceeds to pick up Dahlia with his free arm, holding her close to his blood-stained chest. She quakes in fright, gazing up at him while tears still stream down her face. The angel turns and pushes the leather chair aside by walking into it, coming into contact with the office window. He raises his leg for a push-kick, smashing a sizable hole in the window before he steps up onto the sill. His form shatters more of the window off until he stands on the sill completely, his body further gashed by protruding glass shards. He protects Dahlia from coming into contact with the glass, but takes no regard for himself.

He briefly stands at the edge, sweeping thoughts graze his unconscious mind, as if reflecting in a dream. Nothing feels real, yet the world happens around him as his body moves on its own accord.

He leans forward and turns one-eighty, dropping three stories from Rhye’s office. He plummets from the highest window at the back of the warehouse, coming down along with the rain that falls from the clouds above. Dahlia squeals when he hits the ground on his back. He remains on the cool, moist dirt for a moment, relishing in the freshness of the earth while staring up at the dark grey sky. He feels Dahlia panting against him, sniffling, trying to keep herself from weeping further.

He rises to his feet like a reanimated corpse. Throwing his lagging head left and right, he spots no one leaving the warehouse. Show must be still going on, even after they left. No one saw him jump out the window, no wandering guards or goons around the mine or warehouse, possibly due to the crowd control that had to be done during his fight.

Without hesitation, and nothing trying to stop him now, his form dances with golden dust. His wings and halo combust into reality, and as soon as they piece together, a single powerful flap of his wings jets him into the raining sky.

With every emotion pouring out at once, Dahlia silently watches him as he carries her across the sky. She cannot even begin a thought. Her heart is heavy, filled with fear, trepidation, dread, concern... and veneration.

The ground below becomes distant and fogged from the weather. The angel soars towards Salt Lick, a faded beacon of gold past the grey clouds.

‎

~~<

‎

As night falls, the city of Salt Lick has no residents outside the comfort of their homes. All is quite and peaceful.

...

FwPWWSCH!

A mass descends from high above, onto the road in front of the Rooted Greens. He lands on his two feet which splats mud in a large circle around him. No angelic features to be found, it appears as if some man had just rained down.

Quaking, Dahlia braced deeply for the landing but finds herself confused when the force of the impact was null for her, absorbed by the man's hold. She directs her rigid stare to him, seeing his half-lidded eyes still gently glowing under his hair, though not as prominently as before.

The man walks. He ascends the small staircase to the saloon's porch and walks into the swinging doors carelessly. The few residents that are found still partaking in food or drink turn their grave attention to the sight. Even the barkeep, still cooking and baking, bestows a squinted grimace to what he sees.

No words, no whispers, no offers to help, no condemnation, not a gasp or question. The room is silent as Crimson tracks mud through the saloon, trudging to the staircase and climbing it to the top. He disappears into the second floor, eyes still watch the direction in which he left. Then, not five seconds later, conversation resumes like normal, as if nothing ever happened.

As soon as Crimson arrives at their door, Dahlia fishes through her shirt pocket and retrieves the room key. Held close enough to it, she pushes the key into the knob and unlocks the door while still held by the man. He opens it and steps them both in, kicking the door behind him shut. He carefully bends over to set Dahlia on the floor, and she comes off of his hold. She takes a step back and stares up at him. His eyes are still glowing under his hair. It's missable, very much so, but where she stands displays it clearly for her to see. Her heart excites at watching it, the golden magma which swirls in his irises... which fades like a light flickering off.

Dahlia gasps woefully when he suddenly falls forward and drops the necklace onto the ground, the force keeping his body operating having now vanished. She dashes up to him and catches what she can of his falling body with her back, gritting her teeth and grunting under his weight. She carefully places him on the ground on his back and splays him out like a star, making sure he's evenly laid.

Not a moment after she gets him rested, a knock is heard at her door. She takes irritation at being disturbed, which is the last thing she wants to be. She trots around the man and opens the door a crack.

She sees it is the barkeep again. Raising her brows, she opens it all the way. The stallion with the stern expression holds a bucket of water on his back and several towels in his hoof.

Dahlia sees what he has brought, finding guilt in herself for being disgruntled at his help. No words are exchanged, no words are needed. The stallion lets himself in a few steps, setting the water bucket and towels down at the feet of the man. He turns, gives Dahlia a curt nod, and leaves. She shuts the door behind him, putting her forehead on the door for a moment. She clenches her teeth, trying to keep herself together, before coming off of it and returning to Crimson.

She spends some time with the brought provisions to clean Crimson up from most of his blood, dirt, and grime. She saves some of the towels to dry him off and gently moves his limbs around to make sure she did not miss a spot. Once he is relatively clean, she cleans and dries herself with the remaining towels, albeit she was not nearly as mucked up as he was.

After the cleansing, Dahlia musters her strength to pull Crimson from under his armpits, just as she has before. She drags him to the bed, props him at the side of it, then climbs onto the bed to pull him up and on top of it. With puffs of exertion, she is able to get him comfortably rested on the bed with his head on a pillow.

She sighs and briefly admires her handiwork, successful at getting him cleaned, dried, and in bed. She sits on the bed right next to him, her magenta orbs glittering as she silently stares at his comatose state.

...

Tears rampantly form in her eyes. She cannot hold it in anymore. Everything that just happened, and even everything that has happened in the past, rams into her pith like a freight train. She begins to sob terribly, letting her eyes close and her chin tuck. Drop after drop, the bed stains with her sadness. Her breath cuts off between her hiccupping weeps again and again. The only company she has is the pattering of rain on the windows of the room.

She crawls close to Crimson, hugs his arm, and cries herself to sleep at his side.

‎

‎

‎

~ Canterlot, the City Streets ~<
April 4th, Tuesday, 18:53

‎

Their collective hooves clop against the pristine marble floors of Canterlot’s streets as they make their way to the immense stadium located at the north-west end of the city.

The night is young. Moonlight and Magnifying Glass walk together, the mare with a deep blue scarf around her neck, her pink saddlebags around her waist, and a filly sitting on her back. Furi hugs the back of her neck, pressing up against the unicorn’s deep blue and pink mane. Magnifying wears his fine white suit and has a spiffy gelled combing of his mane.

“Are you excited, dear?” Magnifying asks Moonlight, having some excitement in his voice himself.

The mare keeps her eyes to ground, where she always keeps them. “Y-Yes, v-very much so. I haven’t been to the Canterlot Games in… um…”

"Eight years!”

Moonlight puts up a wobbly smile, failing to hide her trepidation to his uncanny knowledge. “… I-Indeed.”

The trio approach a line of ponies waiting to greet the entrance booth to the stadium. The closer they get, the more audible the festivities become. It isn’t long before they pass through the tall metal gates surrounding the stadium that an event coordinator pony spots them.

The pegasus stallion wearing company clothes and hat flies up to the researchers, landing at their front with a wide smile. “Head Researcher, Scribe, it’s an honor to have your attendance tonight! Please, use the express lane to the right.” He points to the right side of ticket booth, just off from the incredibly long line of ponies trying to get in. “Refer to your tickets for your seating arrangements!”

“Thank you, good sir!” Magnifying responds confidently for the group. They move to the advised entry point, presenting their tickets to a make-up polished mare inside the booth. She takes their three tickets with her pink magic and tears their tickets in half, returning the bottom portion to them. Moonlight takes them and slips into her saddlebags.

The booth mare charges her horn again and obtains something from under her desk. She levitates two silver rings up and towards them. Moonlight looks terrified at the little ring as it approaches her, but Magnifying looks content. The rings are slipped over their horns and sit at their base. Even without channeling her magic, Moonlight can feel the ring already sapping away at her. “Please enjoy the show!” the booth mare happily says while waving them through.

The three enter the softly lit cement passage that leads into the stadium. The concern across Moonlight’s face doesn’t let up, feeling more than just vulnerable at having her magic silenced by the ring. Magnifying notices this and decides to call to her, "It's okay, Moonlight. It's just for the Games! You'll forget it's there!"

Obviously still dissatisfied, Moonlight reaches up to touch the ring lightly. Her mouth drops in shock when it doesn't budge at all. "Wah?"

"The wearer can't take the ring off, silly. Please, dear, don't fret! It was made and perfected by yours truly, remember? I can assure nothing will happen to you, and it'll come off clean as a whistle once the Games are done!" He points to his own ring which he confidently dons. Moonlight only finds some comfort in his words, but still forces herself to swallow her distress.

As artificial light floods the passage, the clamors of the crowd become louder. Once they step out onto the bleachers, taking in how absolutely tiny they are in comparison to this gargantuan structure.

Moonlight manually reaches into her saddlebags and retrieves their tickets to find where their seats are located. She feels embarrassed to see that they’re in the VIP section of the east box. Celestia really went above and beyond for no real reason, she would have been happy with any seat…

… She would have been even happier if she could stay in her room. Nevertheless, through her mentor’s and Magnifying’s coaxing, here she is. The only relief she feels is that Furi gets to experience the Games for the first time in her life.

Magnifying leans his face closer to Moonlight’s, taking a glance at the tickets as well. “Wowie! The VIP seats?” This comment causes the light blush on her cheeks to spread to the rest of her face. A few ponies around heard him and gawk over with wide eyes. “Ah, I know where those are. This way, dear.” He begins to lead the way, looking back at her to ensure she follows. Moonlight does so, keeping her head low and her eyes on the ground. A quick glance towards the box where she’s assigned to sit shows that there aren’t too many ponies there, and there are no others next to her seat. Her tension relieves slightly at this.

Once the three find their seats, Furi whimpers to Moonlight when she is set down on her own seat. With a warm smile, Moonlight takes her seat then reaches to the filly, picking her up and setting her down at her belly.

Magnifying watches this interaction with a simper. Once Furi notices the stallion staring at her, the contentment that was found on her face vanishes. She looks away with a frown. This causes Magnifying to do the same, blushing a little at his cheeks. He’s just glad Moonlight didn’t witness this interaction, her being preoccupied observing the air balloon with multicolored floodlights appearing in the sky above the stadium.

Before long, the announcer behind a microphone on a levitating stage in the middle of the coliseum advocates for the commencing of the Games. The crowd cheers and whistles their excitement, including Furi delivering an ecstatic, “Yaaaay!” Moonlight and Magnifying exchange a smile with each other.

‎

~~~~<

‎

Time seems to fly by like wind, before long the Games are coming to a close. The competition nears its end, and the winners are declared as they stand proud on elevated podiums.

Crowds celebrate the victories despite who actually won. Merriment and cheer is shared between all, and as the event ends, everyone rises from their seats filled with dopamine and satisfaction.

“Yaaaa, yaaaaa!” Furi cheers, bouncing lightly in between Moonlight’s hold. “Momo! Yaaaa!” She cheers for a specific mare who dons a second place medal.

Moonlight leans down to Furi and murmurs to her, “Ready to go home, little one?”

“Mm!” she nods twice.

With Furi's permission granted, Moonlight and Magnifying come off their padded chairs and begin to take their exit. Moonlight cherishes the fact that they are allowed to take the VIP exit, where far less attendants are flooding to leave.

Returning to the entry booths, Magnifying allows Moonlight to proceed first, where the mare excitedly trots forward. The mare at the booth happily takes the ring from Moonlight's horn and an instant wave of distress euphorically floods out of her body.

Magnifying is next as the mare takes his off as well. Rather than return it to the inside of the booth, she keeps it held out for him. He takes it slyly into his hoof and shoves it into his suit’s chest pocket, glancing quickly to ensure no one saw him. He winks at the mare at the booth, and she winks right back.

Stepping back out into the marbled streets under the shining moon, Magnifying can’t help but release a giddy chuckle. “Heha, wow! The Canterlot Games! That was incredible, wasn’t it?"

Moonlight returns a giggle and nods in agreement. “It certainly was."

"The flaming toss was especially exhilarating!"

"Ooo, that it was! Though, I was more partial to the underwater magic casting competition!”

“Hahaha, a classic! It never ceases to amaze me what kind of talent the Games pull each year! It makes me think some of those ponies are superheroes or something!”

“My thoughts exactly! Oo!” Moonlight taps her hooves in excitement, causing Furi to bounce a little and giggle behind her. “That reminds me! The earth pony track racer!”

“Clementine?” Magnifying asks in assumption, already knowing who she's referring to.

“Yes! Doesn’t she sort of remind you of—”

“Margareet, the Wind Rider?” they both finish together. They share in laughter at having the same idea.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Moonlight cheers her excitement. “I was soooo sad when I found out they were discontinuing the comic series!”

“Hoo, I know!” Magnifying throwing his head back and a hoof to his forehead in theatrical exaggeration. “I really wanted to know what happened after she stopped the cold war between the minotaurs and the hippogryphs!”

Moonlight huffs her disappointment, yet still smiles. “I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

They continue to exchange contentment as they return to the Canterlot castle. They both venture to return to their rooms, retiring for the night as they are both up a bit later than they are used to.

They give each other their goodbyes at the front of Moonlight’s room door, keeping their departure easy and quiet as to not disturb the already sleeping filly.

As Moonlight disappears behind her door, Magnifying waves his hoof. Once the door closes completely, he still holds his smile… which slowly turns shadowed.

‎

‎

‎

~ Salt Lick City, The Rooted Greens ~<
April 5th, Wednesday, 9:20

‎

The morning sun fails to punch through the heavy rainclouds of central Equestria. Water still falls from the sky, playing its unique song while using the land as the instrument.

Dahlia sighs deeply as her body returns to the waking world. She realizes she is holding something warm, unsure of what it actually is until she open her eyes. It is Crimson’s arm.

She feels like she should back away and put up a fit of embarrassment, but… nothing inside her tells her to do that. In fact, it is the very opposite. She wants to keep holding it, especially since the man has yet to wake.

Concern wraps around her heart at his grim state, though it is tentative and mostly eased by the firm rising and falling of his chest. His breathing has ceased its rough rasping and returned to normal overnight.

She cannot believe that he is recovering so quickly. She should know better, having heard plenty of talk between the underlings of the Consortium and the Horseshoes. The angel who protects everyone and lives through all adversity. She thinks it all sounds so stupid when rumored, but witnessing it in the flesh is anything but.

After laying next to him for a bit longer than she anticipated, she reluctantly lets go of his arm and rises from the bed. The first thing to draw her attention is Crimson’s clothing next to her, which she pushed aside to lay him and herself down. She catches glimpse of the hardly-noticeable bloodstains that dot around his duster – the bloodstains caused by the zebra tribe. Retaking that day is making her feel emotions she does not want to feel.

She reaches to grab the dark grey duster and inspect it closer. She realizes quickly that these are the exact same clothes he had when he arrived in Equestria, only dyed a different color, and this simple fact drives severe consternation in her heart. There is only one pony who would have these clothes, one insane fucking lunatic that he would have obtained these from. Now she has a crippling feeling that he has been waiting for an opportune moment to talk about this, but... deep inside, she hopes he does not bring it up, even if she is happy that he is reunited with something that means a lot to him.

Her gaze slowly drags over to the unconscious man, staring at him in disbelief. She has no idea what he has done or what he has been through during his time in her home world… but just this…

She looks back down at the duster with a frown. She continues examining it, feeling odd bumps and grooves inside of it. She knows it would be prying, but she cannot really contain herself or her curiosity very well. She goes through his pockets.

She finds the four boxes of dart-flinger ammo inside his two outside pockets, which she expected since she saw him put them in there. She rummages through his inner pockets, noting that they are much deeper than the outside two. In one she finds the pistol itself and decides not to mess with something she does not understand. She leaves it alone and finishes through the other pocket.

She finds two objects of interest, pulling both out. One is a small metal ball which she swears she has seen before, and the other is a… bunny plushy? She scrutinizes the round sphere that is this red and white stuffed animal. It is not like any stuffed animal she has ever seen, and at attempting to find a label or manufacturer’s tag, she does not find one. It might be made by hand. … Or hoof.

She sets down the plush and fixates on the smaller metal ball. She pops it open with her hoof and looks inside. Ah, right, she remembers what it is. It is the super moss the Black Horseshoe Brains invented. She comes to wonder how this man obtained such a niche acquisition. She feels hungry, but not nearly enough to want to suffer through this stuff.

She pockets his belongings again and returns his duster to the pile of his clothes. She gives him another glance, curious and wondering…

She comes off the bed with a sigh that acclimates her to the waking world. She approaches her saddlebags and gets them flipped over her back. She then retrieves the relic which was left on the ground overnight. Stuffing it into her bag, she moves for the door and opens it.

She can not stop herself from turning to give him one more gaze. There is a feeling of déjà vu, one which she fails to ignore despite her attempt.

‎

~~~<

‎

Dahlia staggers when the transponder throws her into Cosma’s lab. She shakes her head and blinks her eyes, looking around with haste. She spots Cosma at her desk, speaking to Kleid on the other side.

Everyone exchanges a quiet stare, just before empathy takes Kleid and Cosma’s expression. “Welcome back, Wisp," the stallion calls.

“Hey,” Dahlia replies dispiritedly.

“You are alone?” he asks solemnly.

“Yeah,” she responds the same way.

“I’m very sorry for your loss. I take it the mission was an unfortunate failure?”

Dahlia’s ears perk up, now realizing that her mopiness wasn’t helping their assumption. “Oh, uh, n-no, no.” She reaches into her bags and takes out the necklace which contains the relic. At its mere sight, both Kleid and Cosma gasp with opened cheek to cheek smiles. “Sky’s… resting, right now. It was hard on him.”

“HOhahaha!” Kleid bursts from excitement. “I wouldn’t doubt that! Give him my greatest regards!”

“Hahaha, wow wow wow! Your human is incredible!” Cosma follows up. “We need to get Ruby in here!”

Just as the name was spoken, the door to Cosma’s lab rises. The aforementioned mare stands at the frame, glaring in with dead-pan seriousness. “I heard my name.” She glances from her lab mates to the foreigner by the transponder. Her eyes hone in on the relic she presents, and her orange orbs widen tremendously. “… No way.” She stands frozen for a second.

“Way,” Dahlia counters cheekily.

She is taken aback when Ruby dashes up to her, looming right over her repeating, “Noway noway noway noway noway!” Her enthusiasm even confounds Kleid and Cosma.

“Wohow, Ruby,” Kleid chuckles, “I’ve never seen you this excited in my life! And I’ve know you since we were foals!”

“ThisIsLiterallyTheMostExcitingThingEver,Kleid!” Her mouth forms vowels at an alarming pace. She glances up to Dahlia, as if begging for mercy. “M-May I?”

Dahlia nods and holds it a bit further out for her to take. “Knock yourself out.”

Ruby’s appropriately colored magic takes the relic as carefully as a delicate egg, her enthusiasm making her irises wobble. “… It’s so beautiful. The colors, the dance of the enchantment between its insulated confinement…”

“A true marvel of magic,” Kleid comments before facing Dahlia. “Much of our time and resources went into trying to take it. You and your human have proved to be an outstanding asset to our team, Wisp. You managed to accomplish we could only dream of! It has me thinking. What was your strategy to pry it from Rhye's grubby hooves? It couldn't be as simple as win the four rounds, right?"

Dahlia regresses back into a defensive shell. She squints her eyes and keeps them planted on the ground. Her reaction does not bode well with the Brains around, especially not Kleid.

"Wisp," Kleid calls to her again, "we require an answer. And if you know what is best for you..." he steps closer to her, leering with a popped eye, "... you will answer honestly."

The constricting energy she feels swamps her. She did not plan on lying to them but now feels inclined to in case they do not like the outcome. "... Sky managed to win. I won't drag this out by giving you the play-by-play, but he killed the other humans, plain and simple. Rhye wasn't too happy about this and used his magic to... pull us into his office or something."

"He... pulled you?"

"Yeah. Teleported us or something."

Kleid becomes visibly distraught at this. "Wisp, my sincerest apologies. I had no idea he was capable of translocation magic. I would have warned you if I knew this."

"It's... whatever," she states simply, obviously still pushing through the shock.

"This is nothing to scoff at. Even our most powerful mages struggle at perfect translocation magic. But, obviously the outcome is favorable despite this. What occurred after he translocated you into his office?"

"Tried 'bargaining' with me. He didn't like what I had to say, so he... well, he tried killing Sky and raping me."

The Brains around look much more empathetic as she finishes her explanation. "So you won fair and square," Ruby begins, "but like the child he is, he couldn't bare the thought of being bested. Typical."

"And your solution to this dilemma?" Kleid follows up.

Dahlia clenches her jaw briefly before responding. "... Sky protected me. He killed Rhye and his thugs."

The Brains appear exceptionally grave at this disclosure. Kleid especially, letting his eyes bounce around different parts of the floor. "I understand the necessity," he explains, "but this has made our job much more complicated. It isn't long until the Doyens hear of this and begin a Family-wide search of the perpetrator. You may not be pleased to know this, but they won't put a hoof to us. Not myself, not my team. We are marked as essential by two of the Doyens, and even given the liberty to conduct as we please with our research - so long as we obtain the relics for them. Instead, they will track down your human and kill him. Maybe yourself included, depending on how the Doyens feel about you." Dahlia shivers. Kleid sighs in acknowledgement to her emotion. "That is the reality of the situation. I, and the rest of my subordinates, will attempt to aid you as much as possible before the Family identifies your human. But once he caught..." Kleid turns away, keeping focused on the window that looks outside of the lab. "... We can harbor either of you no longer. We will have to surrender you to the Family. I tell you all of this ahead of time so you are prepared for such an event."

Fighting against thousands of mental tracks, Dahlia suppresses her morose musing well enough to harden up and stern her expression. "... Then we don't have any time to waste. We'll get you what you need, and you'll get me what I need."

Kleid nods with a serious smile. "Indeed." He looks to Cosma, who's eyes widen as she realizes her cue. The mare reaches into her desk with her magic and pulls out three folders and one notebook, levitating them over to Dahlia. "There is half of the documentation left behind by Keeper before he defected from us. The other half awaits you when you successfully retrieve the remaining two relics."

Dahlia takes the documents from Cosma's magic and hastily organizes them into her saddlebags. "Then let's talk business. The last two relics, what's your plan on getting them?"

"We have prepared notes and paperwork for you to study in the mean, and there's a... special spell, that we're codifying that we shall expose to you later. We will wait for your human to be adequately rested before we commence, which should give you a slew of time to study the notes. There is no easy way to say this, but this will be your toughest assignment yet… one so delicate… one so potentially volatile…” His expression begins to progressively unhinge, his eyes glare into Dahlia's very soul. It is plain to see how this endeavor is stressing the stallion. “If you happen to fail, not only are you going to be hurting… all of Equestria will.” Dahlia’s ears fall onto her head. “So listen, Wisp… and listen very, very closely…”

‎

~~~~<

‎

The tan mare flicks her rump up to adjust her saddlebags as she walks back to Salt Lick city. Her deep contemplation is directed to the ground.

Returning to the Rooted Greens saloon, she arrives back up to the second floor and heads for her door. She stops when she sees the barkeep sweeping up here. They share a glance.

“Need somethin’?” the barkeep asks.

“… I’ll take another soup and crackers meal, I guess,” she responds halfheartedly. She reaches into her saddlebags and gets her coin-purse out. She finds herself stopped by the stern stallion when he throws his hoof forward.

“On the house.”

“… Really?” she asks, getting a nod from the stallion. “Why?”

The stallion squints, his eyes quickly shift left and right before they stop on her again. “A friend of mine likes you. Let’s leave it at that.”

Dahlia takes a moment to accept what he said, but eventually responds, “Thanks.” She nods gratefully and resumes entering her room. The stallion gawks at her in silence until she leaves his field of view.

Closing the door behind herself, she is relieved to see Crimson still unmoved and asleep in the bed, knocking away the fear that someone may have taken him. She climbs back onto the bed and sits on the edge of it by the man’s feet, dropping her saddlebags off just behind her. She ponders silently about everything Kleid told her.

Out of the many things she has done in her life, the fearlessness she keeps against the unknown and the potentially dangerous, this… this is taking it all to a new height. The already mountainous stress of this next task only worsens when she thinks about the murder of the Doyen's grandson. She does not fear much for herself, but instead for the man next to her, who has yet to recover. She looks to him, at how he peacefully sleeps after what he has had to endure. She cannot begin to imagine what else he had to go through just to get to this point.

With great hesitance, she reaches out to touch his shin. At making contact with his skin, she feels too embarrassed to continue even though he is unable to react to it. She turns away from him, trying to rid herself of whatever it is she feels inside her chest.

After a moment, she reaches for her bags and rummages through them, retrieving the plans and notes she was given. She sullenly studies them, waiting for her food to arrive.

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Grand Halls ~<
April 5th, Wednesday, 5:48

‎ ‎

A yawning Moonlight returns to her room in Canterlot Castle at the break of dawn, having taken Furi back to the orphanage. The strict rules that govern over the institution do not allow the orphans to leave for extended periods of time during the weekdays.

She is extremely grateful to the Countess who runs the orphanage, who allowed a one-time exception to give Furi not only a day out to enjoy the Canterlot Games, but also the night to spend it with her. The only stipulation was that Furi must be returned at the break of dawn, so that is what she accomplished, even if it caused her to lose a few more hours of sleep than she is used to. The memories formed last night were more than worth it to her.

As she rounds the quiet early-morning halls of the Castle, she gives meek helloes to the patrolling guards. Nothing out of the ordinary on her trepid trot back to her room...

... except. "Magnifying?" she whispers to herself after she spots the stallion waiting outside her door, who has not noticed her come around the corner of the hall. She stops herself from continuing briefly, taking a cautious look down to the stallion.

Said stallion appears to be... looking into the lock of her door? Perhaps trying to see through it? There is nothing he could see, it is all lock and metal to prevent such a thing from transpiring. Still, he attempts.

"Magnifying?"

"HAhAH!" the stallion hisses up like a startled cat, eyes dilating before he spins around to face the mare who snuck up on him. "M-M-Moonlight!?"

"H-Hi," she responds while taking a step back from his discombobulated form. "... U-Um," she hums as if starting an idea, but in reality does not know what to say and ends up remaining quiet.

"H-Hey! M-Moonlight!" he tries to cover up the dead air. "W-What are you doing out this early? -- Oh!" he exclaims before Moonlight has the opportunity to say anything. "Right! Taking Furi back to the orphanage! Shucks, I just missed it, didn't I?"

Moonlight smiles awkwardly and nods. "J-Just barely, eheh..."

"I-I'm sorry, Moonlight! I was wanting to walk her home with you, but--but..."

Moonlight waves her hoof several times to try and appease to him. "Nono, it's okay. Really. She was asleep the entire walk over, it wasn't much to miss."

"Oh, well... well, if you say so! Ehehe," he wipes his forehead from some forming beads of sweat. "D-Did you maybe want to get some breakfast with me?"

Moonlight puckers her lips, feeling that familiar pang of guilt surface. "... I..."

"H-Hey, maybe later! I know you're up much earlier than usual, so... in about four hours? Does ten sound good?"

The meek unicorn nods twice. "T-That sounds good."

"Eha! Great! Where you craving something in particular?"

To this, the mare thinks properly. "... Whipped raspberry crepes?"

"Deeelicious! Your wish is my command, dear!"

Moonlight nods bashfully in appreciation. "Th-Thank you, Magnifying."

"I-I'll be back soon!"

The stallion turns around, still holding that unnervingly wide smile as he trots away and looks back towards Moonlight. She waves at him until he turns the corner and disappears from sight.

Holding herself together, Moonlight waits until she has successfully entered her room and closed the door to let out a tense sigh. Something she is quickly noticing is how easily tense she becomes without Furi around... and much more so when Magnifying is.

The thought irks her, that she is... possibly... bothered by his presence? "No!" she whispers to herself scoldingly, accidentally letting it slip from between her lips. That is not it, maybe something else is bothering her. She is not positive what he was trying to do at her door just now, but she does not want to jump to conclusions and make him or herself look inferior. She is perhaps overthinking this. Maybe he knocked multiple times and did not get an answer. It is definitely something like that.

Far too tired to think on it for long, Moonlight unravels her scarf from around her neck and hangs it on the coat hanger next to the door. She trots upstairs to her bed, crawling under the sheets to hug Soap tightly. She lets her tired eyes close, attempting to achieve a little more sleep before having to deal with reality.

‎

‎

‎

~ Salt Lick City, The Rooted Greens ~<
April 5th, Wednesday, 19:52

‎

It is not long until night returns and the moon ogles over Salt Lick city.

Dahlia, glazing her unfocused and fatigued eyes through the notes for the five-hundredth time, finally decides to set them down once she agrees with her conscious that she needs some rest. She rises from her laying position next to Crimson, coming off the bed and acquiring the three empty bowls from the floor with her wing. She balances them towards the door, unlocking and opening it to set the bowls down in the hallway outside as instructed by the barkeep.

She closes and locks the door again, returning to the bed while rubbing her left eye. She climbs back up, pushing her saddlebags and papers off a ways, and lays down on her side.

The song of the rain has become unnoticeable background noise at this point, the midlands of Equestria are known to receive copious rain in the spring. Dahlia lets her barely-open eyes rest on the man. The shadows of the rain drops hitting the windows dance across his form and the rest of the room.

She does not know if she missed it while going through the homework Kleid made for her, but Crimson is looking much better now in comparison to this morning. Many of the wounds have turned to closed scars, his skin is retaking its coloration, and his breathing is silent and healthy. She feels that she should know better than to be startled by his preternatural abilities, but she can not help her admiration.

The longer she stares at him, she begins to recall what he looked like when they had first met. His deep red hair, his constant scowl, his punchy gaze... she is fighting plenty of battles in her psyche, the feeling of missing the way he looked is one of them.

The one battle she fails to fight is the push to crawl to him and hold his arm again. Even though parts of her tell her not to, or that it is a bad idea, she does so anyway. Her hooves and arms come around his bicep and tricep. At holding him again, she clenches her teeth and fights back the urge to cry.

Life was so simple before. Raid temples and tombs, sell the shit inside, get money. That is all it was, and she was happy with that. Now she does not understand anything anymore and everything is so unnecessarily complicated. The fault is all in due to the man she holds. She hates him with a burning passion. It is his fault why everything is the way it is now. If he had not been slumped over in front of that temple one beautiful nippy spring afternoon...

She hates this man... yet, a tear comes streaming down her cheek.

Daughter of Misfortune

~ Salt Lick City, The Rooted Greens ~<
April 6th, Thursday, 4:41

‎

A customary searing of pain as consciousness returns, along with every other mortal coil. Sensation returns first, he feels his body tremble. Everything is so sore he could ignite at any second. He also feels a peculiar weight at his right arm, but he waits for his body to catch up before trying to interpret external stimuli. His hearing surfaces from underwater, noting the heavy pattering of rain upon the room's windows. His olfactory restores, and it floods with the scent of soup.

He gains the strength to pry his eyelids apart, but only momentarily. They close, reopen slightly, then close again a few times before they agree to stay open. He ogles an amber-orange wood ceiling. Such an unfamiliar sight ushers confusion.

His bearings come to him once he shifts his eyes around, taking in that he is inside the Rooted Greens. Somewhat acclimated to conscious existence again, he looks down to see what is wrong with his right arm. His pique brings the raising of his brows, seeing that a little tan pegasus has wrapped herself around it. Not only is he relieved that nothing happened to his arm, but he feels a fuzziness inside of him. Dahlia is actually demonstrating some sort of affection. No sputters of anger or embarrassment from her sleeping form. He is unable to keep his aching face from smiling, making the soreness just a bit worse.

After he spends a moment relishing her comfort, he looks just beyond her. Her saddlebags are haphazardly lobbed onto the bed with things spilling out, and there is a few unfamiliar documents and folders right besides them. He does not know how long he has been asleep but he assumes Dahlia returned to the Brains to pitch them their success.

He reminds himself of what happened in that ring. He recalls the fights, the three humans he was pitted against. … He remembers Heidi.

With her name and face coming back to mind, more memories flood in but some black out completely. He strains his brain trying to figure out what happened after that fight. He won, the crowd cheered, Dahlia was mortified, he lost consciousness, and then… the Rift.

He rests his head back down onto his pillow, enjoying the comfort of a soft bed and a warm body keeping him company. The sounds of the wind and rain outside his room make unleashing his tension a bit easier. He appreciates the rain – it is something that rarely blessed him back at Earth. Living and tending to a farm in a desert was not optimal, but he managed.

He holds hope he returns home to Viola soon, the pain of seeing his home again without her there digs at his skin. The simple fact that he returned to his Rift, just as he left it months ago, is more than encouraging.

He ruminates on Heidi’s dying words, and how they coated his soul with realization. He feels stupid, idiotic, anything under the sun that speaks against his stubbornness. He has constantly stifled his gift. He always thought of it as a curse, one bestowed upon his ancestry and his alone. As if it had a mind of its own, it erupts and controls him when he least expects it. Sometimes he allows it, other times he suppresses it.

When the two scoundrel scumbags attacked him and went after his sister as children, it awoke. He let it control him. He allowed it to run free and do its supposed duty: shield, protect, and survive.

His showdown against Michael and his small army, the physical toil put upon him at being shot at repeatedly tugged his Arch to awaken. But he denied its wake. He slogged through the pain and became progressively weaker as the stand went on.

He denied it to spite Michael. Viola was less than approving. Had she had the heart to truly speak her mind, she would have scolded him just like his own mother used to, taking off her shoe and chasing him around with it all the while.

Viola was right. He already knew she was right, but his own stubbornness is a force to be reckoned with. Even now, he still hold his grudges. Heidi only served to confirm how moronic he has been about using his gift. And now that he is in this position, he cannot use it. Not if he wants to single himself out and ruin the façade he spent so much time working on.

Regardless, he feels as if he is getting closer. Entering his Rift even with the collar’s impediment, it is encouraging. He can see Viola again. Hopefully.

Now working for the Horseshoes, he has gained the mileage he needed. He can almost see it, but yet to tangibly grasp it is another story. What Dahlia said back at Moobs’ hotel was right, the human dilemma in Equestria really is not his business. But he cannot imagine returning home with this enigma chewing at the end of his moral compass, or whatever is left of it.

He closes his eyes and tries to relax. Once the sun comes up and Dahlia wakes, he can resume his venture and get his questions answered.

‎

~~~<

‎

A meek shuffle, a gentle moan, then a wide yawn. Dahlia returns from her satisfying sleep with a tight closing of her eyelids before opening them. She notes that she still holds his arm, and he has yet to move. She huffs, both from stress and relief, that he is still passed out. A quick look around the room shows that it is still dark out from the rain clouds, but likely already morning. She couples up to his arm again, nuzzling her forehead against his shoulder.

He responds by taking the hoof of her hindleg into his caressive hand.

“Gyah!” Dahlia unlatches from him and shoots up from the bed, hovering in the air with her wings in fright. The man grunts in pain when she comes off his arm and lets it fall back onto the bed. “Y-Y-You’re awake!?”

“G’m—” he tries to call, but finds his throat far too dry to speak. He clears it, wets it, and tries again. “G’mornin’.”

She stares back at him in horror. “Answer me, damn you! Wh-When did you wake up!?”

“Shh, Dahlia,” he lifts his pointer finger to his lips with a pained grunt.

Her face reddens in embarrassment, letting herself come back down onto the edge of the bed. Though her trepidation quickly loses the spotlight when she sees the amount of pain he struggles through every time he moves or speaks.

“… Y… You okay?” the man asks coarsely.

Dahlia becomes visibly exasperated at his question. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He purses his lips, wincing again. “Sorry fer askin’.”

She feels a pang of guilt not only from his apology, but for her unnecessary aggression. “It-- No, it… it’s just, don’t ask me if I’m okay, okay? Because I am! You’re not okay, you look absolutely terrible!”

“Thanks.”

“Food!” Dahlia spouts in eureka. “Are you hungry?” As Crimson pries his pained lips apart to reply, Dahlia zips over to him and puts both of her hooves a centimeter from his mouth. “Don’t answer, you need food. Soup okay? Don’t answer that either, you’re getting soup.”

Crimson smiles slightly at her worried rush, wincing in pain as he lifts his right thumb up. “Sounds great.”

Dahlia beats her brow and growls at him. “Can you not move so much!?” He lets his hand come back down slowly, giving her a confused look. “And stop talking!”

Her antics quickly went from admirable to worrisome. She sounds more than troubled. “Why?” he inquires, grievously gritting his teeth right after asking from a shot of pain traveling across his face.

“That’s why! Stop moving and stop talking!”

“Girl, this ain’t nothin’ to—”

The mare heatedly looms over Crimson, her burning magenta orbs glaring right past his hair and into his eyes. He sees it, how they tremble and still dance with the urge to well with emotion. “Stop. Fucking. Talking.” Crimson’s chest tightens at seeing her nearly start tearing up. “Please.”

She retracts her face away and sits on the edge of the bed, giving him her back. She flexes her body, her wings, then sighs brokenly into the rest of the room. After a tensely silent moment, she hops off the edge of the bed and trots to the door, making a discreet exit.

He is left alone for only a few minutes, but it feels much longer than that. Left to his own thoughts, Crimson is having serious trouble trying to figure out what happened. Sure, the fight was gruesome and brutal, but he figures she should be accustomed to witnessing senseless violence. He may be roughed up at the moment, but it is not anything he cannot handle, he thinks. To him, none of this explained why she is reacting with such harsh emotion. It is very unlike her to act like this, which is only his assumption.

‎

~~<

‎

The metal spoon in Dahlia’s hoof dips into the soup for the dozenth time, catching and bringing up the hot liquid. She brings it up to her lips and gently blows on it to cool it off, just as she has repeatedly done. She then reaches the spoon to the man’s mouth, letting the warm contents accurately pour into his slightly pried lips.

Crimson is not sure who is more embarrassed by this literal spoon-feeding, him or the mare that tends to him. He feels like a child being cared for by their mom after catching a cold. It is pleasant, it is comforting, and it is the last thing he expected from Dahlia, but alas, here they share this embarrassing moment. At least swallowing the soup is not hurting nearly as much now as it first did.

Once there is too little liquid in the bowl left for Dahlia to spoon any more, she raises it to her lips and drinks the last few drops. She puts the bowl down on the ground beside her, exchanging it for a beaker of water. She is glad the barkeep was able to accommodate her weird request to get water in a glass beaker instead of a normal drinking cup. She takes the water and holds it just above his chin. “A little wider,” Dahlia commands.

Crimson winces slightly at getting his mouth opened a bit further.

“Like that,” she affirms. She begins to pour a little bit of water into his mouth, waiting until he swallows, and pours again. Within a minute do they finish getting hydration back into his body.

Dahlia takes the beaker and bowl towards their door, leaving the used dishes outside in the hallway.

Crimson watches her from the corner of his eye. He lets his gaze follow her as she heads for the door. A wave of surrealism hits him like a blast of wind. A colorful little pony with wings is tending to his health and working to get him back into shape. This feeling is so damn random, he has been in this land approaching three months and it always finds a moment to return. He supposes he cannot be blamed, living his whole life with his own kind. Only a few months with ponies pales in comparison. Still, it is a wrap around his head that has loosened a few times.

He fixes his eyes forward when she returns to him, in case she does not find the idea of being side-eyed too fond. She sits down on the edge of the bed next to Crimson, keeping her eyes away from him. “How are you feeling?” Dahlia asks.

Crimson clears his throat, feeling much better now that he is watered and fed. “Gettin’ there,” he speaks mostly through his teeth, avoiding flexing his face too much. “Soup really helped.”

She silently agrees with him, noting much less strain on his voice. “Nothing like a homemade soup to build up the body.”

“Nothin’ like it. Reminds me of how my pa’ used to make his soup. Just missin’ the oversized chunks of cabbage.”

Dahlia snickers. “Dude, my mom used to do that too. It's like all she did was cut the cabbage head into four pieces then dunked it in there.”

Crimson chuckles next, suppressing most of it to avoid feeling too much pain. “I get it’s good for you, but it’s hard to enjoy everythin' else.”

“That’s what I’d tell her.”

“Was she a good cook like you?”

“Pft, I’m not a cook. At least, not nearly as a good a cook as she was. But… yeah, she was a menace in the kitchen. I didn’t get to learn much from her before she died. Still try to learn more when I have the time, but hardly ever do.”

“Be more than happy to test yer creations.”

“Sure. But if you know what’s good for you, you’ll say it’s good even when it sucks.”

“Hold me to it. You know how to make her famous cherry fritters?”

The mare sits up straight and looks towards him, taken aback at the question. “How do you know she made fritters?”

“Somethin’ you said back when we first met. Same when you said you mostly taught yerself to cook.”

Her face slightly turns for judgement. “Dude, it’s really freaky that you remember literally everything I’ve said.” She looks away from him with that same look of disgust.

Crimson purses his lips lightly.

“… But that just means you really listen.”

His eyes open a little wider at this sudden comment. It drives him to smile even though it hurts. At this point, he could care less if it does, as long as it does not worry her. “… Course I do. It don’t feel like it?”

“It’s not that it doesn’t feel like it, I know you listen. It’s just… you, like… I dunno… you really listen, y’know? Like you ‘listen’ listen to me.”

Crimson follows exactly what she is saying but finds amusement in her choice of words. “Do other folks not ‘listen’ listen?”

“Ch, not even. Everypony I’ve met is a hack or a fraud. No one ever listens and no one ever tells the truth. And before you point your grubby finger at me and judge me, yeah, I act the same way. Deal with it.”

“Throw back at life what it throws at you.”

Impression takes her expression once more at his words. It turns to a cheeky smirk. “Exactly. Life can kiss my ass.”

“It sure can,” he encourages before a thought pops back into his mind. “Ah, hey, uh... what happened with..." reservation paints his face, though he continues to ask, "... y'know...”

Apparent distaste replaces Dahlia’s front. She too seems less than willing to talk about what happened yesterday evening. “You and Heidi beating each other into pieces?"

"Yeah."

Dahlia's teeth from the 'ch' vowel, but she stops herself. Trying to put her thoughts together, she shakes her head twice. "... Can I just start with... what the fuck?"

"... Yeah."

"How was she so strong!?" she whisper-shouts. "She nearly fucking killed you with her hands!"

"I know."

"You two were beating the shit out of each other like crazy! I can't believe how hard you two hitting each other! I heard rumors of you killing a dragon, but what the fuck! She almost topped you!"

"Dahlia, stay with me here. What happened after the fight? I... I blanked out. Reckon I passed out ‘n… you carried me back here?” The face she makes instils him with doubt. “… Not the case?”

“Do you seriously not remember anything after?” He shakes his head lightly. “… So you don’t remember… killing Rhye?”

He almost sits up from shock. “I killed him?”

“Yeah. You cut his head off with your… angel stuff.”

"... What do you mean?"

"I dunno! Your angel stuff! C'mon, you already know what I'm talking about! Big gold sword, woosh, you cut them with it!"

"Big... sword." Crimson’s dilated eyes fall from her and stare into the void. “… I killed him with my Arch?” With a pained struggle, he reaches his hand towards the collar around his neck.

Dahlia glowers at him. “What did I tell you about moving so much?”

He holds the collar, slipping his middle and pointer finger in between his neck and the enchanted leather. “… I still had this shit around my neck?”

“Yeah.”

Crimson digests this information for a moment, finding everything she’s saying hard to believe. “… I know you ain’t lyin’, but… I killed Rhye with my Arch? I didn't get to look the bastard in the eyes. Couldn't even tell you what he looks like.”

“I lie all the time, Crim, but I can tell you this isn’t one of those times. He teleported us into his office after you killed Heidi. He tried… taking us out. Whole thing was rigged from the start. Your Arch stuff came outta nowhere and you killed him before he or his goons could get the jump on us. You looked like a walking corpse. Putting it lightly, it was… creepy.”

Crimson’s brows furrow the top of his eyes, completely throwing aside her last comment. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Dahlia swallows her words, entering a debate she knows Crimson can see on her face. “… He didn’t. L-Like I said, you killed him before he got to do anything.”

“Dahlia,” he calls very sternly, only emphasized by the gravely tone in his voice. She slowly turns her head to look into his eyes, which glare back at her with a conviction that scares her. “What did he do?”

Dahlia squints and lets her eyes drop to his chin, her nerves bottled like a rocket ready to launch. “It’s not a big deal, man, really—”

“Dahlia,” he repeats the same way as before.

Her entire body quivers, finding an aggravating inability to understand why he is able to intimidate her like this. She feels like melting into the ground under his oppressive stare. “… H-He tried raping me, alright?”

“That motherfucker!” Crimson sits up, his eyes quickly sheen with gold while the ethereal whispers begin their mantra in his spirit.

The mare jumps with shock and immediately moves to put her hooves on his chest. “Crimson, keep it down! He’s fucking dead already, you killed him! Lay back down and chill out!”

Crimson does not budge as he lets his fury ride out of him. Uncompromised concern paints her expression, her breath comes out steadily as she tries to gently push him back down. His irises slowly revert to their hazel color and he allows himself to be laid again. After his Arch fades back to a passive state, the pain of sitting up so hastily sets in.

It happened again, he thinks. His Arch channeled again, despite the collar’s magic. But this time, it felt... light. Natural. No hint of pain aside from the soreness of his beat-up abdomen. He feels he is beginning to understand something that he knew and threw away a long time ago.

“… He’s dead,” Crimson recants her words to himself, helping him ease his nerves. “And you broke the news to our Horseshoe friends?”

Dahlia nods meekly a few times. “That’s… the next thing we should talk about. The Brains aren’t too thrilled that you killed a Doyen’s grandson, but they aren’t after us or anything.”

“You make it sound like somethin’s wrong.”

“Because there is. The Brains aren’t gonna be after us, but the rest of the Family is once they figure out it was you who killed Rhye. The Brains won’t protect us when they do.”

“Hm. I’ve killed fuckers like ‘em with my bare hands. Let ‘m come.”

“Crimson, stop. This isn’t a game. You’re hurt and we still have a lot of work to do. How are we gonna get you home when we have the Horseshoes after you?”

“IF they find out who I am,” Crimson starts with a deepening furrow of his brows, “then I don’t want you with me. If I understand what you said correctly, it’s me they’re after. Not you. So if they start huntin’ me down, we’ll have to part ways.”

Her eyes dilate to pin pricks. “What!?”

“It’s for yer own good, girly. I won’t have you get caught in the cross of me and a gang. It never ends well.”

“What happened to us being partners, huh!? I’m not going anywhere!”

Crimson’s stern front lets up a bit. “Of course we’re partners. But that don’t mean I’m gonna let you get killed by grimy fucks that want ME dead.”

“That totally voids us even being partners in the first place if you can throw me out just because things get tough!”

Unable to fight a smile, Crimson feels a warmth inside of him at her conviction. “Well, girly, in this case… bein’ my friend overrules bein’ my partner. And I don’t want a friend of mine gettin’ hurt through my means.”

Dahlia’s cheeks lightly tint pink. “Y-Yeah? Then screw that, we’ll fight the Horseshoes as friends instead of partners! How about that?” A chuckle forms and ushers itself out of Crimson’s mouth. “This isn’t funny! I’m being super serious!” The man proceeds to chuckle harder. “Crimson, stop laughing!”

He tries to waive her rising aggravation off with his hand. “I-I ain’t laughin’—ehe—cuz I think this is funny.” He wipes his left eye from a building tear of joy. “Jesus. I’m laughin’ ‘cuz I’m so taken back. Who’re you ‘n what’d you do to my Deedee?”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean!?”

“Just that, I remember yer initial hesitation to partner up with me. Help me get outta Equestria. Ain’t no secret we didn’t get along very well. Now it’s like you don’t wanna leave my side. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wouldn’t want me to leave at all. I’ll be the first to say I enjoy the change of pace.”

Dahlia’s cheeks have continued to redden the more he speaks until his final sentence is spoken. Her chest puffs up and her ears lay flat on her head, looking away from him with a pout. “Hrh,” she grumbles, “you really know how to say the dumbest shit to embarrass me, you know that?”

“Maybe so. I do it outta love.”

Her already pink cheeks become cherry red at the word.

“Were you holdin’ my arm the whole night?”

“NO!”

Crimson turns his face away from her sudden belting. “Woh, Deedee, quiet down. I’m just askin’.”

“Why!? Who cares!?”

“I care. It felt nice havin’ you at my side like that. Think I slept better cause of it.”

Her lack of composure only worsens, but rather than aggression, it melts into something else. Something she is having trouble understanding. “… You did?”

“Wouldn’t lie to you. Wouldn’t be opposed if you did it more often neither.”

Dahlia takes turns clenching the left side of her jaw and right, again and again in a muse that burns her chest.

Crimson watches her struggle for a few seconds before speaking up again. “… That includes right now, if you wanted to.”

She lifts her magenta orbs to his. As they lock gazes, more words than could ever be spoken come flowing out of her soul. The cruel inability to bring down the walls which have spent years being built. The first and last line of defense that has kept her alive and sane. A biology that has functioned like a fluid machine is now pulling itself apart.

Crimson extends his right arm out to her, offering it directly. Her eyes blink down to it.

…

Be it impulse or a direct order from her mind, she trepidly comes closer and hugs it. She lays down, putting her forehead on his shoulder.

The unrelenting rain outside keeps their silent unison company. Nothing is said for a time neither of them could be bothered to count.

…

“Seriously…” Dahlia suddenly murmurs quietly, barely audible over the rain, “… what the hell did you do to me?”

“A question fer you and you alone.”

Dahlia exhales deeply to decompress, genuinely taking what he said to heart. A question for her and her alone to deal with…

“… You regret stickin’ with me?”

Surprised at the question, she looks up to glance at the side of his face. He does not look back to her and says nothing further, letting the question linger. She sets her head back down with void-gazing eyes. “… I… I guess… not really.”

“That’s good, right?”

“… I don’t know.”

The man lets her response float around them, taking in a deep breath. “… I’d hope it is.”

Dahlia shuffles slightly, bearing a heavier emotional burden than she wants to. “… Just… don’t worry about it. Are you feeling any better?”

“Loads. I appreciate you takin’ care of me.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He smirks at her snide response. He takes his opportunity to test his body out, flexing random muscles all across his body except the arm which Dahlia holds. “Think I’m ripe. How long was I out?"

"Just a day. You're bouncing back pretty quick."

"But that's a whole day we just lost. Likely the Doyens already caught word of Rhye’s death, so we’re on borrowed time. Thinkin’ I’m good enough to get a move on. You wanna pay them Brains a visit together?”

“Yeah, they're waiting for you to show up before they demonstrate a ‘surprise spell’ they're working on. I didn't mention what our next task is gonna be, but... you'll find out soon. I hope you're ready for what we're getting into."

"Are you?"

"Don’t reverse the question on me.”

"Well even if I wasn't, ain't got a choice. Are you sure you wanna risk yerself stickin’ at my side? I can’t stress enough that I’d rather you be safe."

“Then stop stressing, because I’m not going anywhere.” She lets go of his arm and sits up. “Come on.”

She comes off the bed first, with Crimson right behind her, albeit somewhat unsteady. She offers to stabilize him, but he declines with a raised palm. He proceeds to get dressed before they take their leave from the saloon.

‎

~~~<

‎

Crimson holds back the urge to spit onto the ground, the pressure from being teleported pushing in on his weakened and bruised stomach. He stabilizes himself quickly enough to make it look like he just stumbled a bit, lifting his head and eyes to look around at Cosma’s office.

Having teleported first, Dahlia is already here, just barely having oriented herself as well. Her prior assumption was correct, it does not look like the Brains were anticipating their arrival so soon, as Cosma is the only one present in the lab and was intently focusing on her paperwork. Said Brain jumps in a startle, fixes her glasses, then blinks rapidly at her and Crimson.

Cosma gasps in awe. "Wooaah! If it isn't the power couple!" She analyzes Crimson, taking in his form with running eyes. "He looks especially fantastic! How could he be so unscathed after such a brutal undertaking?"

"He's better than you think," Dahlia states simply.

"Obviously so, if he came out looking exactly like he did going in! Let me get Kaleidoscope in here!" She presses a button to the left side of her desk, reaching in and speaking into it. "Kleid?"

"Yes?" his voice announces from the button, somewhat wobbly from the resonating magic.

"You won't guess who's here!"

Silence comes from his end. The faint magic that was shimmering from Cosma's button suddenly fades. The three sit in a strange silence for about six seconds...

... before Cosma's office door opens upwards and in comes a panting Kleid. He hyperventilates with wide dilated eyes, darting his gaze around quickly. "... Hah, wow!" He guffaws heartily. "Up so soon, are we?" He asks to Crimson, where he obviously gets no response before looking to Dahlia. "He looks great! This is perfect! Now our operation may continue!"

"First thing’s first," Dahlia states seriously, getting straight to business, “what’s the situation with Rhye? Is the water hot?”

A serious squint takes Kleid’s front, one that comes with a small smile. “Not… quite yet. Luckily you were able to advise us early enough of his death that we’ve made… ‘special’ accommodations to ensure the fire does not spread so quickly. No pony, not even the boisterous announcer who commentates the fights, knows. Well, one pony knows.”

Dahlia’s throat catches. “W-Who?”

“A pony who is now rich and now lives in her own private domicile far away from the Horseshoes. I understand your human may be selective in who he kills, a beautiful mare possibly being outside of his target range. But we advocate for the elimination of all witnesses. Is this understood?”

“… Yeah,” Dahlia acknowledges, briefly glancing back at Crimson. The man hides the lining of his brows. They both realize that there was indeed one witness – the showmare, who was trembling like jelly and near fainting. "So what was that 'surprise' you had in store for us? Is it even ready?"

"Hohohooo~ Yes, indeed~" Kleid nods repeatedly with sheer glee. "It's been ready since before your last return, but we kept this raveled until your other half returned!"

"Right, well, we're here and the Black Horseshoes won't be looking for him any slower. What say you show us what you've cooked up."

"With pleasure~" He grins wildly, giving an unsettling air to the ambiance around him. Even Cosma looks very... enthusiastic. The stallion trots up to the both of them, his cheeky simper unfailing. "The spell we've created is a blended alteration of the standard clairvoyance spell and the project cognizance spell. This single unified spell will-- eheh~ -- use a... volunteer of ours, to give you the exact locations of the two last relics we need. It will be unmistakable, undeniable, it will be the most precise data available to you. The only thing you need on your end..."

"... Is to not get caught," Dahlia finishes for him.

"Indeed. It would be most tragic if the Royal Guard caught you sneaking into the Castle~" Crimson's eyes bulge behind his hair. "So this spell will give you the edge you need to ensure that does not happen, the only thing we require from you is your cunning and stealth. Judging from your assignment against Keeper, I'm confident in your cooperative abilities. It will be just as before - Wisp, you will ensure the wards around the Castle do not detect your human as he prowls. Unfortunately this time, you will not have access to the earpieces as the communicative distance is limited and you will be a fair distance apart during the endeavor."

Dahlia acknowledges the recap in stride while Crimson is frozen in contemplation. "You gonna show me how to jam the wards with the throwing thing?"

"Indeed, indeed. Cosma?" he looks towards his lab mate. Even though she was paying attention, she stills perks up at her name being called. "Please bring the throw-projector."

"On the double!~" she merrily calls before hopping from her desk and exiting her lab.

Kleid refocuses on the duo, his sinister smile retakes his lips. "While our lovely Cosma retrieves the required device, allow me to cast the spell upon you both. It's effects will only last roughly six second, but to you, it will seem like much longer."

Dahlia nods firmly. "Do it."

"Brace yourselves~" he advises while his horn charges its light cyan color. His smile becomes even more wicked. The tip of his horn begins to spark and fizzle, as if the magic was spewing out of a tiny crack. He bows his head and presents his horn, shooting the magic into Dahlia's forehead first. Her jaw drops and her eyes begin to glow pure white as they look blankly forward.

Witnessing this drives concern into Crimson. The stallion aims to him next, he has half a mind to stop him, but the magic hits his forehead before he has any time to back out of this situation...

‎

Like peering through a spyglass, the world contorts at the edges, unclear and difficult to gage except for the center of focus. Everything takes a blue hue, the colors are saturated, and it feels like a hazy dream.

Crimson begins to experience the perspective of another being, a pony possibly, one that resides inside the Canterlot Castle. All of the senses are present, touch, taste, smell, hearing, and sight, making this experience easily overwhelming.

The eyes he watches through act casually to its surroundings, if maybe a little inquisitive. The vision starts at the Royal Gardens behind the Castle before traversing in. The halls of the Castle are navigated, the libraries, the lobbies, the towers, the training yard, and more. Much of it is familiar to Crimson, but only now notices the small magical orbs that tack the corners of the tall ceilings and walls - the wards which see the unseen and alert of trespassers. If the sheer amount of guards patrolling around were not enough, the wards overcompensate.

It becomes clear to Crimson why Dahlia had been caught. Even the most seasoned temple raider would pale against the security imposed on the Castle.

This guiding camera-pony appears to be heading to the Royal Research Labs, telling from the major archways that lead up to it. At taking the last turn into the lab, the first thing beheld is the massive gyroscope which continues to spin endlessly, just as he saw long before.

The eyes walk into this lab and casually glance around – whoever this pony is, they are obviously very comfortable with their surroundings and know where things are. As they continue further in, they approach the farthest right archway that leads into the general office, located right next to the gyroscope.

Stepping into the office, the eyes scan the room slowly. Crimson is able to take in every detail.

There it is. A violet rhombus gem attached to a thick black string, the Amulet of Mariki, hung inside a metal box secured to the far wall, one shut with a combination lock.

The eyes approach this lock, looking down closely to it. Magic is channeled, a teal-ish silver, and the lock is held closer. Four dials which turn up and down are clicked several times, each symbol possibly being a number. Crimson does not understand the symbols, but keeps a mental record of the actual shape and design of them.

The lock clicks when the correct combination is found. The man takes a snapshot with is mind – keeping the pattern memorized: fish thing, fish thing, flower pedal, and arrow pointing up.

This pony uses their magic to scramble the combination and click the lock back into place. They take their leave from the lab, without anypony else the wiser.

The guiding eyes return to the great halls of the Castle. Coordinated turns and paces are had. Guards acknowledge this pony’s presence and appear to not question them.

Soon enough, the turns begin to roam through too-familiar sections of the grand halls now. He does not want to think too hard on it, but the path becomes undeniable. All the correct turns are taken, the ones which eventually lead up to two heavy cobalt doors that are seated at the base of the Eastern Tower…

… Moonlight’s room.

This brings prodding consternation into the man. He begins to question who the guinea pig he is watching the world through actually is. This pony bypasses the two guards posted before the heavy doors, knocks on them, and patiently waits for a response. They eventually open when a small easy-blue unicorn mare answers the door, her large pink irises staring right up into Crimson’s eyes…

… he means the pony’s eyes. Whoever this may be.

“Oh, um,” she begins, “good morning again, Magnifying.”

He did not want to admit it. The undeniable fact now causes Crimson’s heart to crack.

“Good morning, Moonlight!” his voice is loud and echoing through the spell’s vision. “Raspberry whipped crepes, at your service!” He presents something that was outside of peripheral, two styrofoam boxes.

Moonlight gives an excited smile. “Ooh, thank you, thank you, Magnifying! Please, come in!”

The stallion enters, feeling the absolute joy radiating from Magnifying. Only now does Crimson truly comprehend what goes on inside this stallion’s inner workings, and it is amounting to be more than a little concerning. He begins to understand this may not just be a mask he wears for the Horseshoes, but a genuine and unadulterated infatuation with the Head Researcher.

The stallion slyly glances to the left once he enters, giving but a second of focus to the entire purpose of their mission. A relic sits at the very far left lab table against the wall, presented atop a lavender pillow which rests on a marble block.

There it is – the final culmination of his work, the Belt of Uru. He did not think he would have to get back in the saddle for these two pieces of history ever again.

As Magnifying looks back to Moonlight with what Crimson feels is a wide smile.

“I like your new glasses, Magnifying,” Moonlight suddenly comments. “Are they prescription?”

“These?” His hoof blocks the right ocular of the magical vision. “Oh no, I was outside for a while and wanted something to block out the sun!”

The ‘glasses’ are pulled off his head, and with their removal, the vision distorts and crumbles, then fades away. From one moment to the next, the man gains responsibility over his conscious again.

‎

Crimson and Dahlia both blink rapidly to reacclimatize to their worlds. They glare dilated orbs to Kleid, who stares back at them with bursting joy.

“So? So?” he asks excitedly on his and Cosma’s behalf.

“We saw what we needed to see,” Dahlia affirms casually. Cosma levitates the throw-projector to her, she reaches out to take it with her hoof.

“Good, good, good! Excellent! That vision was from yesterday, so you’re completely up to date! The spell was a grand success, hohoha!”

“I’ll say!” Cosma adds.

“Now, before we continue in any way, we need to appropriately fit your human so that he may sneak around the Castle effectively. I understand that style is important,” he states, looking down at Crimson’s boots, “but utility overrules aesthetic. Cosma?”

Already aware of her cue, Cosma hops off her desk and moves to the metal storage cabinets to the left of the transponder. She reaches into the largest cabinet door and pulls out a folded bundle of clothing. She levitates it in her magic over to Crimson, who takes it with both hands.

“Have your human dress in this attire, the soft yet durable material of that jumpsuit will not only muffle his steps, but slim his frame. No extra bits and bobs to work against him. The location Cosma is programming the transponder to send you two is directly into the heart of Canterlot Castle. You may be familiar with the two waterfalls on the mountain, one on the southern face just outside the kingdom, and one on the western face, the waterfall that flows into a river through the Royal Gardens. The mountain has been carved into to fit another of our cubicles behind the western waterfall. In essence, you will be right inside Castle grounds from the start, and you will infiltrate through the Gardens."

"Damn, you guys even have one there? Since when?"

"Since before any of our times, that's for sure," Kleid winks. "Remember, all of these were built many many years ago. But now they serve to aid us! The Gardens are the optimal point of entry since your window of opportunity is so small. Remember, you only have half an hour to run in and come out before your success is severely hampered. I don’t need to state the obvious, but do not get caught trying to enter the hideaway. It would be disastrous if you were.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dahlia declares her understanding. “So we start at exactly eleven-thirty?”

“Precisely. Your half-hour window comes at eleven thirty PM every night, when the nightguard in the Gardens briefly leaves post for their lunch break, with nopony else to replace them during that time. If your human is able to penetrate the Castle, acquire the relics, and exit during this intermission, it is your best chance at a clean escape. The inner Castle guard placement is exactly the same as the daytime, and should be treated accordingly. Remember, there are no casualties allowed in this mission. If your human is caught, he must flee.”

“Right.”

“I heavily recommend taking one relic at a time to broaden your timeframe for escape. Because of my aforementioned accommodations stifling the flow of information, Rhye’s death will travel like molasses. There is no time limit for this, so don’t feel like you need to rush. The sooner the better, but worse the blunder. Take a few days to really scour the scene if need be. If you are able to obtain one relic, return and ensure its safety before venturing for the other.”

“No rush, huh? That’s helpful, thanks.”

“Of course! Your success is our success. I would also like to remind you that you are free to wander the exterior of Canterlot Castle during visiting hours. As long as you are cautious when leaving the hidden enclosure, you can stretch your legs and gather information. Visiting hours are from seven in the morning to eleven in the evening. Any time outside this period will cause you to be stopped and arrested.”

Dahlia glances away in distaste, remembering a certain sour event.

“Any other questions or concerns before your undertaking? I will repeat this as many times as I have to, our resources are yours to use.”

Dahlia bites her lower lip in thought, briefly turning to Crimson. His expression is completely unreadable. Without much else to think of, she looks back to Kleid. “I think we’re ready.”

“Good. The cubical you will be teleported into has sleeping and nutrition accommodations so that you may rest there and begin as soon as the clock strikes time. I cannot stress this enough – do not get caught. If somehow word spreads that you are connected to me or my associates, we will have to cut you off completely. The allies you have here will become your enemies. Remember this.”

Without prompting, Cosma presses a button and flips a few dials on the transponder before pulling the heavy lever down. The machine bellows to life behind the duo, who turn around and allow its magic to illuminate their faces.

Both Dahlia and Crimson attempt to mentally prepare themselves for what is to come… then step through one after the other.

‎

~~~<

‎

The two step out onto the other side of the transponder, surefooted and mostly used to the sensation now.

A look around this concrete square shows that it is no different from the others with the same single amber bulb lighting the place, but does indeed come in a bunk bed exactly like the one in Kleid’s sleeping quarters, an electrically powered fridge, a wall clock, and a latrine. Absolutely zero privacy if one were to use it, but at least it is there.

“Homey,” Dahlia comments.

“Very,” the man sarcastically agrees. He steps towards the bunk and sets down his provided clothing, immediately beginning to undress himself.

“… So, that was her, huh.”

He does not look over to her, but continues taking off his clothes. “Yeah.”

"I'll be honest, she wasn't much to look at."

"You're focused on her, I'm more bought in by the fact that Magnifyin' lied to her face. That rat bastard was a Horseshoe all along."

"Who cares about some Horseshoe squeal? Moonlight is the big cheese and she looks nothing like a researcher. She looks like a kindergarten teacher.”

Crimson pouts his lips in muse, getting his shirt over his head and his belt undone. “Funny you say that. That’s what she wanted to be.”

“Huh, no kidding?”

He nods once.

“Why’d she become an egghead if she wanted to be a teacher?”

“… Dunno.”

The conversation dries up quickly. Dahlia can feel the tension radiating from the man who fearlessly gets into his underwear. He folds his clothes and sets them at the foot end of the bunk bed before getting the cotton jumpsuit on.

Crimson realizes that the suit did not come with shoes, but once he extends it out and analyzes it, he sees why. It comes with its own feetsies like pajamas. If it was not pure black and had a neat stitching pattern, he would be embarrassed getting something like this on. Nevertheless, he steps into it and gets it around his body. It is a bit small but it stretches to conform to him.

Dahlia tilts her head at him once he gets it on, judging its appearance. “… Looks cute on you.”

“Thanks.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “I was being sarcastic. Why don’t you get all weirded out by compliments like that?”

“Was I supposed to be?”

“Uh, yeah. That was the point. You can’t tell me you’re fine with me calling you cute.”

“And if I said I am?”

“I’d throw up.”

“Toilet’s right there.”

Dahlia groans her frustration at being unable to win the litmus competition. She walks over to the lower bunk with Crimson and sets the throw-projector on the ground before sitting down on the edge of the bed, keeping her pouting face forward at the wall. The man sits down next to her and lays back, crossing his fingers behind his head as he gazes at the bottom of the second bunk.

“We have like ten hours before our first run-in,” Dahlia states. “Did you wanna wait, gather more info tomorrow?”

“Nah, get this over with. Already know the layout.”

Dahlia understands what he says but fails to find confidence in his words. “… You nervous?”

“Like fuckin’ crazy.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Nervous looks different on everyone. I've only got half an hour to break into Moonlight’s room. With her there no less. Nervous is an understatement.”

“The time crunch is rough, but prioritize your safety before anything else. Even if the thirty minutes are up, as long as you don’t get caught, you don’t have anything to worry about. You've been there, you should already know there's other ways to get out of the Castle grounds if you can't use the Gardens.”

“Yeah. Yer right. Get the relics, then get the hell outta there.”

“That's the spirit, Crim. And when we get the relics to Kleid, he’ll give us the other half of the documents we need for your little human project.”

Crimson feels a rising satisfaction building inside him. He can finally put his curiosities to rest. He is so close. It becomes increasingly tangible. “To what Kleid said. Thinkin’ we should get the relics one at a time.”

“Oh yeah, no doubt about that. Don’t need the added risk. Glad he was able to do something about Rhye. Not being on a crunch is a whole weight off my back. Which relic did you wanna take first?” she asks, looking to Crimson. She immediately notes tension building across his forehead and cheeks. “… I’d say the one in the lab.”

“Eh-- Yeah,” Crimson concedes. “That’s a plan to me.”

Dahlia tilts her head at him, delivering a raised left brow. “The whole Moonlight thing is really stressing you out, huh?"

"Just doesn’t feel right. I worked with her, now I’m workin’ against her. Now I know what it’s like to be in the boots of a snake.”

“That’s what’s got you tense? Hah. Nah, man. Think of it like this, you’re not backstabbing them if the stuff you helped them to get wasn’t theirs to begin with. Those relics? Taken from dead folk. Just like you said, right?”

“… Hm. Suppose.”

“Don’t let it freak you out. Hey, how about this. We’ll get that first relic from the lab, then take a day off to let your nerves settle. Should be up and rolling after that, right?”

“… Don’t sound like a bad idea.”

“Cool! Just leave it to me!”

Crimson nods to her when she looks over for confirmation, and they both exchange a smile. The man sighs tensely and looks forward again. Dahlia does the same in growing contemplation.

Some silence invades the air before Dahlia speaks up again. “… Can I ask you something?”

“Mm?”

“Are you trying to figure out what happened to the humans here so you can get home?”

“They ain’t related.”

“It’s hard to believe that.”

“Nothin’ more to it.”

“Then I don’t get why you’re so into the humans here. What business do you have with them if not for getting home?”

“What’s with the third-degree?”

“What? I can’t ask questions now?”

“Not sayin’ you can’t.”

“Then why are you getting defensive?”

Crimson sighs, forcing himself to remember that her social skills may be causing the confusion. He vaults over the aggression in her tone and continues. “Because I know for a fact they aren’t related. I know how I got to Equestria, and I’ll figure out a way to get back on my own.”

“Wait, what do you mean you know how? Since when?”

“Since a while ago.”

“Well what the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked.”

“So now you’re saying you don’t even need my help?”

“I never said that. I still need yer help for the humans here.”

She delivers a fierce glare. “What, so after this you’re just gonna ditch me and figure out how to get yourself home?”

“Why do you keep sayin’ I’m gonna ditch you? Second time today you’ve said this.”

“Because that’s exactly what you’re doing! You’re using me to get what you want before you leave Equestria forever!”

“Didn’t we both come to an understandin' that’s precisely what’s going on? The annoyin’ human you hate so much goes home, and you get to keep the money from selling his clothes?”

Dahlia is ready to bite back at him, but finds herself stumped at his words. Even though she does not want to admit it, he is right. She knew since the beginning that the end goal was for him to go home, but it does not stop her from… whatever it is she is feeling. She cannot understand it and it is making her even more upset.

“… You don’t want me to leave, do you?”

Dahlia’s jaw clenches and the weight of the question makes her ears drop to her head. She averts her gaze, squinting to the ground. “… Of course I want you to leave. You don’t belong here. Your sister misses you and whatever.”

Crimson is impressed that she remembers he told her that, given the fact that she seems to forget everything she says to him. Maybe it does make sense, now that he puts his mind to it. “Dahlia, I ain’t tryin’a play 'gotcha' when sayin’ this, but you can’t be upset at me fer leavin’ and want me to leave at the same time.”

“Who said I was upset that you’re leaving? I couldn’t be happier.”

Crimson smiles slightly at the side of her face, finding her obvious front very endearing. “… Well just know that I ain’t big on abandonin’ you either. If I was able to come to your world, I’m sure there’s a way you can come to mine. Or maybe I can come back, visit from time to time.” Her ears immediately perk up, her act shatters into dust. The man’s smile widens a little further. “If I can figure out a way, I’ll let you know.”

Dahlia looks over to him, her orbs shimmering under the dull light of the single amber bulb that illuminates the room. “… You think it’s possible?”

“I’m sayin’ it’s likely, but don’t hold me to it. There’s somethin’—someone, I need to find again so I can figure all this out. Let’s just try to focus on what’s ahead of us first."

Dahlia looks away again, silently internalizing his words. With a gentle sigh, she lays down next to Crimson and joins him with staring up at the second bunk.

“… Think I can ask you somethin’ next?” he asks without looking to her.

“… Sure, I guess.”

“It’s actually somethin’ that I asked you when we first met, and I’ve been hopin’ fer an answer ever since.”

Dahlia’s face sours, dreading what is to come.

“You don’t gotta answer if you don’t wanna, same as before. No pressure.”

“Just ask it.”

Crimson simpers wryly, feeling honored that she finally has some sort of confidence in him. “What was growin’ up like fer you?”

The taste of metal invades Dahlia’s mouth. “… One huge ass train of back to back problems.”

“If it ain’t any trouble… what was the first one you remember?”

“If that’s what we’re going off of…” Despondency grows in the deep reaches of her pupils. “… Then before I was born. The first problem happened even before I existed.”

Crimson turns his head to look at the mare who still keeps her eyes to the upper bunk. He gives her the air to speak by remaining silent and watching her.

“… It started with my mom,” she continues. “She was… amazing. A loving, hardworking mare. I basically got all my looks from her. She’d like to stay home as much as possible, working from there by knitting, making clothes and stuff. She ran her own shop, kinda. She was always single. She never got into a relationship with anypony. I never found out why. See, back before Dodge was even Dodge, there were staggered settlements all around Equestria, and where the Junction is now, it was also one of those settlements. They were called the Communities.”

A spark triggers in Crimson’s mind. “Moobs told me ‘bout ‘em. Axel came from them too.”

“Did gramps mention me and Axel knew each other there?”

“He didn’t. Hmh. To think you two went back that far.”

"It's crazy alright. He wasn’t even in my community, he was in a neighboring one. He liked to trade with my mom. His family had a chicken farm and gave eggs to her while she made custom knits for his daughter. Every community traded with one-another and got along pretty well, foals from other communities would all hang out.”

“Did you ever play with Axel’s daughter?”

“Oh, no, I was way too old when she was born. Even if we were the same age, you’ll figure out why we wouldn’t have. But, anyways, back to the Communities. Some were bigger than others, the one where Dodge is now was one of the bigger ones. That’s where my mom lived, and I think it’s safe to say everypony loved her. Like I said, she was an amazing pony. She was always helpful and nice to strangers, helped new settlers, liked to open a soup kitchen with her best friend for the less fortunate. They called her a beacon of hope in the grim, untamed land of Post Great War Equestria. Even though she didn’t have any children of her own, everypony considered her the town mom. She made everyone feel welcomed.”

“She sounds like a sweet woman.”

“She was. Then one day some piece of disgusting trash took advantage of her kindness. A pegasus stallion traveler, constantly roaming around the land. He arrived at the community one day. My mom told me he looked tired, exhausted, and nearly about to pass out. She invited him in and gave him dinner, and was looking to give him a few bits after so he could stay at the local saloon for the night. They had supper, everything was normal… then the piece of shit jumped on my mom and raped her. He was just pretending to be tired so he could... you know... but... yeah. The way my mom explained it, it makes me doubt she even tried to stop him. Maybe she was too scared to, but... it happened. She stayed silent about it for days. The friendly, joyful mare everypony enjoyed being around was gloomy and depressed, and nopony knew why. It took my mom’s best friend days of constant insisting so she could spill what happened.”

Crimson’s brows furrow, already feeling himself becoming heated.

“My mom’s community caught wind very quickly about what happened. Luckily, the shithead that did my mom in wasn’t very bright. He stayed in the saloon with the bits he got from my mom, just to see what else he could get away with before hitting the roads again. The town militia caught him and tied him up to the center post. He was stoned to death in the middle of town. ... I was told that my mom didn't even throw the rock she was given. She just held it, and watched. A while went by and, lo and behold, my mom found out she was pregnant. She stayed completely silent about that too. Time went on, and she couldn’t hide her belly. The excuse that she was just gaining weight didn’t fit the bill after a while.”

Crimson actively contains his grim frown to keep a stern front up.

“Ponies were telling her to get rid of it, to get rid of the baby and relieve herself of the burden. For whatever reason, she didn’t want to. The incident haunted my mom, but she still decided to keep me. So, I was born. She raised me, and she was the best mom anypony could ever ask for. I would come home from school sad and depressed because no one wanted to be friends with the rape-victim’s child. All that compassion and love everypony once had for my mom was dead when she allowed me to live.”

Crimson furrows his brows, now understanding what Dahlia meant.

“But my mom was always there for me, she was my best friend. I spent most of my childhood with her, but… she was taken from me.”

Her eyes lazily swash left and right, almost as if seeing a picture of her life painted at the bottom of the bunk. Crimson nods in acknowledgement and stays silent, seeing that she is getting everything off her chest.

“When I was thirteen, the Communities were raided by the Wild Manes. I’m sure Moobs told you about them.”

“I’ve had the displeasure of meeting 'em.”

“Then you know what they’re like. A gang that thrives off raiding, raping, and burning anything they want. The stallion that raped my mom and was publicly executed probably had some sort of ties to them. The fight was tiresome and bloody. And strangely coordinated. The Communities’ militia barely drove them off. … My mom was killed in the raid. She held me in her arms when some Wild Mane busted through our door. He told my mom to give me over to him so I could be sold into slavery. She refused, so he stabbed her a bunch of times in the back while she tried protecting me. The militia showed up, they killed him before he got to me, but by then my mom was already dead. I still remember her eyes… her beautiful red eyes… drying up from all the blood she lost.”

Crimson turns on his side to give the emotionless mare his fully apparent attention. She silently appreciates the gesture, but she already knows he is listening.

“After that raid, the Communities were shambled pretty bad. A lot of survivors migrated out, trying to find other family or start again. The remaining ponies got together to salvage the rest of the scraps they had. They decided to all join together as one large community in case something like this ever happened again. Strength in numbers and all that. Dodge was founded. Some of those ponies found purpose again, but I was lost. After my mom died, I was so lost. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to defend myself, how to work, and I didn’t know anypony since everyone avoided me. I moved into the orphanage and kept going to school. … That's where I finally made one friend.”

Crimson lets his anger relent for a weak smile.

“She was sweet. She was an orphan from the raid like me. Her mother had passed away from illness and her father died in the raid. I still remember her face after all of these years. I had no social skills, and I never was the smartest in class. I spent all of my free time just practicing my flying, and she would just watch me since she was an earth pony. We were both outcasts, but that made our friendship stronger. We spent every minute we had together. We shared our food, our clothes, and the headmistress even got angry at us because we kept sharing one bed. ... I was becoming so attached to her, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. My life circulated around her. … She told me she was my best friend, that we would be best friends forever. I put my hopes in her. Together, we’d get our lives back on track. We'd grow up, move to Las Pegasus, and get an apartment together. Those happy feelings lasted longer than they should have. ... One day, I couldn’t find her. I looked everywhere for her. I ended up asking the headmistress of the orphanage if she knew where she went. … She got adopted.”

The slight smile Crimson had falls into the void.

“She didn’t even say goodbye. She disappeared from my life and never came back, without wind or tale of what happened to her. It crushed me into the ground. I don’t know where she is or what became of her. Heck, I don’t even remember her name, but I still remember her face.”

“… I’m sorry, Dahlia.”

“Don’t stress it, dude. None of this is your fault... yet. Anyways, it only gets better from here.”

“Ah, well that’s a good change of pace.”

“I’m kidding. It gets worse. Much worse.”

Crimson squints.

“Once I was fifteen, some rich stallion named Pockets came down from Manehattan, visiting Dodge to see if there were any potential thriving business partners to be made. He found me at the orphanage that I had been in for the past two years. I guess he liked the look of me. He offered me a job as a maidmare for their household, I took it faster than you could blink. The same day, I was taken on their air balloon to Pocket’s home in Manehattan. I had hope, I heard stories that maidmares have it so easy. I got there, started working the next day… it was everything I could of hoped for.”

Crimson furrows his brow, reluctant to take hope in from her words.

“Free food, free shelter, a comfy bed to sleep on, a beautiful house three floors tall, a big yard and plenty of free time. Me and three other mares tended to the place with smiles. Those maids pretty much taught me how to clean and do everything. Pocket and his wife were also such nice ponies. They were really kind and helpful. … Except the son. His name was Zest. He was a piece of shit. He was everything I hated embodied into one pony. He was ignorant, cocky, irresponsible, and worst of all, thickheaded. More thickheaded than you.”

“There goes my number one spot.”

“Yeah, it’s insane. His parents were such nice ponies! But that was their downfall. Zest was such a fucking shithead and they didn’t discipline him at all. They would let him throw his temper tantrums and walk over them. Then he started hitting on me. I kindly told him I wasn’t interested, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. Like, the other maidmares working with me were cute too. I don’t know what that lunatic saw in me.”

“You were the cutest.”

“Shh! Just listen. Then this guy started saying the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. He was gonna ‘conquer me like he had every mare before me.’”

Crimson shakes his head. “What a prick.”

“Yeah, it gets better. After repeatedly telling him to kindly piss off, he went to his parents about it! Then they pulled me aside and talked to me about him. They pleaded for me to accept him as my coltfriend. How fucking pathetic is that? They also told me that they would raise my pay and be strict about how he treats me. They’d ‘take care of me and keep me safe’ from anything he might try.” Dahlia sighs her returning frustration. “The fact they needed to say that they'd keep me safe really concerned me, but… they were such nice ponies, I didn’t want to disappoint them. So I caved in and told them I’d superficially date their snobby son. Just for them. … I put my hopes in them that they’d honor their word and keep their shitty kid under control. It was the worst decision I have made in my entire life. He was always so pushy and arrogant. He constantly tried to make moves on me. He even got a custom maid outfit tailored for me that exposed me in such an embarrassing way. And I had to wear it!”

“What the hell? Did you tell his parents?”

“Yeah! His parents literally told me to wear it! It made that clown’s lust even worse. He kept trying and trying to push himself on me, but I didn’t let him get his way. This crap went on for like a year.”

“Figure the tides became too unstable?”

“Oh, you have no idea. One night Zest reaaally went off the deep end. On my sixteenth birthday, he threw a little dinner date for me after his parents had ALREADY threw me a birthday party. His parents were asleep for the night and it was late, but I figured ‘what the hell’ since they were planning on giving me vacation for a week, and Zest was getting ready to move out of his parents house finally. At twenty-seven years.”

“Christ on a carriage, a twenty-seven year old dating a sixteen year old?”

“Yup.”

“AND made you wear skimpy clothing?”

“Yup.”

“The fuck.”

“It haunts me when I think back on this stuff too much. That’s why I try not to. But now I am, and it’s haunting me again.”

“You don’t have to talk about it anymore, Dahlia, I appreciate everything you’ve shared with me.”

“Nope, I’m in too deep. I need to keep telling you or I’ll actually go insane.”

Crimson purses his lips and nods twice.

“The date was in his room. His room was really big and fancy and had a super tall ceiling, blah blah blah. He was stupid spoiled. He had a round table set up with candles and moody music playing. I had a super expensive gown that he forced me to wear. He wore a really nice suit. If I’m being honest, he wasn’t a bad looking stallion. He was repulsive in every other way though. We went through this little date of his and it was alright. The food he had another maid cook for us was nice. The ambiance was well done too. I still give him props to this day… but then, the freak did the unthinkable. He proposed to me.”

“… Oo,” Crimson cringes with a wince.

“Yeah. He proposed to me. He went through a lot of effort to keep it all hidden from me and set all of this up, considering I was the one assigned to clean the bastard’s room every day. … I wasn’t about to spend the rest of my life with a mentally unstable freak, so I told him no. … ‘No’, the one word he hated to hear the most. That night, it hurt him more than it ever had before. That word broke his brain. He got up from the table really pissed. His face was so veiny, I thought a blood vessel was gonna pop. Then he started to hit me. He started pushing me around and hitting me while yelling at me and calling me names. Then... he pinned me down and tried to rape me.”

“Man, fuck.” Crimson’s cups his hands into fists as his eyes begin to emanate golden light.

“Easy there, big guy,” she turns herself onto her side to face him. She reaches out and pats his shoulder. “Remember, this all happened already. I tend to get in bad situations, it happens. I’m honestly impressed I haven’t actually got raped yet. Might be destined to happen, all things considered."

“Don’t fuckin’ say that, now! C’mon!”

“Juuust joooking, Crim, eaaasy,” She simpers warmly and strokes his shoulder a few times. “Not looking to make it a family curse. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

"Yr-- ... Yeah. Sorry." His fists stop clenching. “… You goin’ through that shit with Rhye makes me happy I got to kill him. Shame I wasn’t awake for it.”

"I’ve been attempted on so many times, I've lost count. Trust me Crim, it’s alright. I’m just… I’m glad that you care about me, so... don’t worry.” They share a silent moment, staring into each other’s eyes as they both rest on their side. Once self-realization hits, Dahlia’s cheeks flush and she turns onto her back again. “Uh, a-anyway, back to what I was saying. I didn’t know how to defend myself, I only knew how to fly away. He had me pinned next to the bed on the floor. I thrashed around as much as I could, and I was lucky enough to get his expensive lamp to fall on him from his nightstand. I got him off of me and started flying around his room, crying for help while avoiding that maniac. No one came to help. We were there for like... an hour. It got to a point where he was so fucking angry he actually tried to kill me.”

Her ears drop to her head, but her eyes retain the lazy, unenthusiastic look. Witnessing this drives Crimson to frown.

“I feared for my life... I didn’t mean to kill him. I only wanted to scare him off. At some point, I got too tired to keep flying around to avoid him, so being stuck on the ground... I got one of the candles from the dinner table he set up. It was a magical candle that burned forever until you blew on it with your breath. I didn’t even know magical candles existed. I waved it at him and hoped he’d back off. He completely ignored it, and charged at me again. So I threw the candle at him. … He was on fire from mane to tail in less than a second. A blow of your breath wasn’t gonna stop that shit. His fancy suit burned like oil. … I still remember the smell, and the way he screamed. … Death doesn’t bother me anymore, but back then I was so young and naïve, I threw up everything I ate that night. Even my mom didn’t make such awful sounds when she was stabbed to death.”

The bridge connects in the man’s mind – something she said in passing that stuck with him. She had only killed two ponies in her time. Axel was the second life she had ever taken.

“Once I knew he wasn’t going to chase me and grab me, I ran for the door. There, standing on the other side… were his parents. They were just standing there. The door wasn’t locked, Zest was just guarding it so I wouldn’t leave. They could have walked right in and helped me. But they didn’t. They stood there and waited. They waited and hoped their son would subdue or kill me. It would have been easier to say I died in a work-related accident, or that I committed suicide. … Their faces, the way they looked at me and at their burnt son. … My heart sank. My hope vanished. These ponies really didn't care about me... they would have rather let me die.”

Crimson processes the events revealed to him. He stares at her, at her adorable features. The fact that such a lovable thing, this little pony, had to endure what she had to. A stark contrast between appearance boggles his mind.

“… Don’t know what happened to Pocket and his wife. Not sure if they’re in Manehattan anymore. But that was the day I decided that hope wasn’t a thing I’d put in anyone anymore. From that day on, I never made any friends. I kept everyone distant. I landed a job at United Equestria Postal as a courier for the connecting major cities, it was the only job that fit my lackluster skillset. I delivered mail across Equestria for a few years, until I was… I think twenty? Three years. I didn’t really keep track of time then. I had no one celebrate my birthday and I couldn’t care about it either.”

“… But you know how old you are now, right?”

“Duh. I figured it all out after a while. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy where I was. I didn’t have to talk to ponies for most of my time working. Years of trips alone across Equestria gave me the isolation I learned to love, and it helped me get familiar with the land.”

“What caused you to stop deliverin’ mail?”

“A package that nearly cost me my life. I had no idea that the Horseshoes were using the UEP to send packages to each other. I didn’t know a thing about them except that they were a gang everyone was afraid of. Turns out just after my twentieth birthday, a package I was delivering from Las Pegasus to Fillydelphia had an ancient artifact in it. I just carried the packages on my back and the envelopes in my bags, no clue what any of them said or what was in them. That’s what my job always told me to do. So when I was taking the forest pass through the Foal Mountains, I was surprised to get jumped by some ponies wearing black suits.”

“Horseshoe bastards.”

“’Just business’ they said. ‘No hard feelings’ they said. Fuck that, I wasn’t about to let them kill me or take my mail. They were all pegasi too, so they chased me around trying to nab my shit. I flew up the mountains to try and shake them, we spent literally HOURS going in circles. If I wasn't in good shape, like I was back with Pockets, they would have gotten me. But I kept flying, and after a stupidly long time, I thought I lost them. I got too tired to keep flying around and landed on a cliff, I was hoping they didn’t see me. Surprise, surprise, they did. They jumped me from the cliff above. I couldn’t fly anymore, but neither could they. I just... leaped off the cliff into the forest below, hoping I’d live and they’d give up. The desperate fucks did the same thing. To this day, I don’t know how I survived. I broke my left wing but that was it. The stallions following me died in the plummet.”

“Just desserts fer tryin’a jump an innocent girl.”

“Hmh, ‘innocent.’ Maybe then, but definitely not after. That innocent 'girl' you’re talking about decided she was fed up with everything in her life going fucking wrong. I limped my sorry ass away and tried figuring out what was so special in my mailbag that I nearly got murdered over it. Broke more than a few laws going through the packages, but yup… there it was. An enchanted diamond spear-head. I figured it was worth a lot, so I took the fucking thing and ran, hoping to sell it for way more than my job could ever earn me. All of my aimless wandering and vague questions led me to the Slums.”

Crimson feels a breath of satisfaction run through his body at the puzzle completed. All of her misfortunate finally led her to the motel of destiny. “And you found ol’ Moobs there.”

“Mmmhm,” she hums. “Found Axel there too, he remembered me and my mom. We kinda trauma bonded for a bit, and he was nice enough to point me in the right direction, and I sold that relic for thousands of bits. Axel took me under his wing, and from that day on, I started stealing things to make a living, from dead and living folks equally.“ She finally puts up an emotion, a devious smile, “I found out I was pretty good at it. Time went on, I got older, more carefree, more clever. My already great flying abilities mixed with my knack of stealing, it was the perfect blend of ingredients that made me Equestria’s best treasure hunter. I always had enough money to survive and plenty left to enjoy myself, and it was fun. Living on my own accord and not letting myself get grounded by anypony. I left myself detached from everypony, and I was happy… until you showed up.”

“Well I beg yer pardon.”

“Oh stop it. Apologizing about the things you actively do isn’t worth anything.”

“What m’I ‘actively doing’ then?”

“Well, you know!” she stumbles.

“I know what?”

“Don’t act dumb. You know what you do.”

“I wouldn’t be askin’ if I did. Just spit it out, girly, we’re already this far.”

“… I don’t know how to word it.”

“Try yer best.”

She silently contemplates what she actually wants to say. Better yet, she already knows what she wants to say, but keeps trying to push it down. “… Promise me you won’t laugh or judge me!”

Crimson leans back slightly at her sudden aggressive loom towards him. “I ain’t even need to promise, I’m not gonna do any of those things.”

“Promise!”

“Alright, fine, I promise.”

Dahlia settles down and lays on her back again. She puts her hooves to her chest, completely regretting getting put into this position. “… You do stuff and say stuff that… makes me feel weird. Like you… care. And stuff. I can tell you’re not just bullshitting me, and it… I don’t know, it just makes me feel things. I’ve gotten really good at knowing when someone is trying to blindside me, but… the first day you woke up in the lodge at the Everfree… my bullshit gauge didn’t work on you. It just kinda felt like you were an open book from the start. It was really confusing.”

Crimson’s small smile progressively gets wider as she finishes speaking. “Y’know, I kinda had a feelin’ you liked me from the start. As it is, I’m honored now you’ve put faith in me. Time enough in Equestria made me realize you don’t ever use yer real name. For anythin’. You tellin’ me who you actually were from the start has always been special t’me. I still wonder why you did that, 'n also why 'Wisp' was the name you chose to hide behind.”

"Ah, yeah. I never did tell you, huh?"

"Nope. By your own words, was none of my business."

"... It's not an interesting story."

"But I'm interested regardless, girly."

She shifts her eyes to the left, as if trying to get input from the wall. "... My mom was the only pony who ever loved my name. She was also the only pony I could be myself around. Everypony else from the Communities thought my name was the equivalent of putting a flower on a grave. They always called me 'Wilted.' So I started lying. Told everypony I changed my name to Wisp. Sort of a play on the insult they used against my name. I liked the word wisp. Wispy. Something that moves gracefully and is tough to see."

"Just like you."

"... Yeah. I spite the world with that name now... but Dahlia Do will always mean more to me. Nopony deserves to know my name. They don't deserve to know that part of me."

"... But from the beginnin', you thought I did."

“… Glad that you noticed.”

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

“Didn’t think you’d be alive long enough to let my name matter to you or anypony.”

“That the reason? Sheesh, you really didn’t have confidence in me.”

“Well, not just that. It’s that I-- … well, I…” she stops herself, letting her eyes wander, “… never mind.”

“Never mind, huh? Well, in the event I fuck somethin’ up and get caught by the Royal Guard, I’ll never know what that never mind was about.”

Dahlia sits up and growls at him. “Shut up! Don’t say shit like that!”

“Probably get kept in the Dungeon forever… maybe they’ll kill me…”

“Crimson, what the fuck? Stop!”

“They’ll cut my head clean off…”

“Okay, okay! Just stop!” Crimson smirks at her adorable desperation. “You better not get fucking caught, or else. I don’t wanna relive what we already went through.”

“I won’t. Not if I can help it.”

Dahlia huffs a frustrated breath onto his face before she backs away again. “… I told you my name from the start not just cuz I thought you’d die, I… liked… you.”

Crimson looks towards the trepid mare who keeps her face away, feeling his face heat up lightly. “… You liked me?”

“Right! Okay, anyways!” Dahlia puts her hooves together and smiles to Crimson unnervingly. “You interrupted me at the part where I was saying you screwed everything up for me. I’ll have you know I had a great six years of tomb raiding and adventure-finding before you showed up, thank you very much.”

“Hm,” Crimson hums, knowing not to push her buttons farther than he already has. “Six whole years. You’re twenty-six now?”

“Ding-ding-ding, we have a winner.”

The man smiles with satisfaction. “A year younger than I am.”

“Twenty-seven, huh? Thought you were older, honestly.”

“I give off that look?”

“Kinda. You’re fucking huge. Well, your face matches your age, but your body makes you look… thirty? I guess. I don’t know humans or whatever.”

“You ain’t too far off. I’ve even gotten that from other folks back on Earth.”

“Hey, speaking of Earth. I’ve told you about ME. It’s only fair that you spill the beans about yourself now. I remember what you told me back then, but now I want everything.”

The man chuckles. “Everything?”

“We have time to kill,” she points to the clock. “Everything.”

The man looks towards the wall clock and does indeed see they still have about nine hours before show-time. He brings his thumb-knuckle to his left brow, sighing deeply. “… Alright. Fair. But, not until I address what you said earlier.”

"What'd I say?" Crimson reaches his arm over Dahlia's head and puts it around her. He holds her close and pulls her in, receiving a shiver and a "Huh?" from her in response.

"... I like you too." Red overrides the tan coat upon her cheeks and muzzle. Before she has a chance to speak a protest, the man starts up first, "Long story, not as interestin' as yers... but... I guess it started with my pa'."

Dahlia's blushing trepidation remains on her face as she is held close, but fails to deter a smile which forms on her lips. She nestles in comfortably at his side and listens just as intently as he did.

Peering Through Broken Glass

~ Canterlot Castle, The Gardens ~<
April 6th, Thursday, 11:29

‎

Night has fallen, the clock's hands strike time.

With a weary yawn, a guard who dons golden armor puts his hoof to his mouth. His unenthused attention scans the Royal Gardens. To his unsurprise, nothing has changed, just like the hundred other nights he has had to remain posted here. At this point, he is used to the shivers he gets from astray droplets tacking him that come from the waterfall a few meters from his side. The humidity is still something he dreads. Good thing summer still has a way to go before it arrives.

One of his colleagues, who stands at the far end of the Gardens, lifts his hoof to waive him over. "Huh, lunchtime already,” he whispers to himself. “Night's going by fast." He smiles at the prospect of food and walks towards his companion. They proceed into the Castle through the enormous archway at the very back.

Their turned backs completely miss the shadow that dashes out of the brush behind them.

Crimson's silent steps tuft the grass under him as he sprints at full speed towards one of the trees grown right next to the Castle. The perfect size to be scaled, he jumps onto the trunk and latches both hands around it while the balls of his feet press against it. He shimmies up quickly until he reaches untrimmed branches to give himself better leverage. He continues to nearly the pinnacle of the tree, stopping once he is leveled with a sectioned window pane on the second floor.

He peers through the glass, seeing no bodies on the other side. Perfect timing. He winds up to push off the tree, perhaps a little harder than intended as the tree rocks wildly for a handful of seconds. He lands on a marble railing before the window sill, looking back and waiting until the tree stabilizes. Relief comes through his nostrils when it does and no one is the wiser.

He clambers up the railing and peeks his head over the sill, seeing a pair of guards traversing the halls at the far end. He keeps low and continues eyeing them, waiting for them to take their predicted turn...

... and they do. Crimson rushes to get onto the sill and pinch the window clamp to open it up and hop in. He lands onto the polished floor of the Castle with the lightest thump, turning about-face to close the window before crouching low to the ground. It is at this point that he has to rely on his partner to keep the unblinking eyes that are the wards from spotting him and alerting the royalty.

He waits ten seconds before continuing forward, assuming Dahlia is protecting him already. He dashes to the giant half-pillars found along the walls, bouncing and hiding between them as he takes precaution against the guards. Said guards stick to their usual routines, and avoiding them is only made easier as they are not paying very much attention to their surroundings. He had already snuck past the night-watch when he unexpectedly visited Luna, he supposes the wards intentionally did not report him then. As long as Dahlia is duping them as she should be, it will be just as simple as before.

It proves to be elementary. The dozing guards are completely clueless and he successfully rounds the grand halls of the second floor. From here, it is as simple as waiting for the occasional guard to walk up, turn their back, and walk off, all while he bounces between each pillar until the great arches are found.

He repeats this tedious cycle for the final time - a gold-clad guard walks along the middle of the hall until he reaches a certain point. He stops. His eyes are lazily glued forward. He yawns and smacks his lips. He turns, walking off towards the opposite end of the hall. Once his back is turned, the ghost slips out from the shadows and sprints silently towards the Royal Research Labs.

Crimson slides on his feet until his shoulder hits the archway which leads into the labs. He stops, slows his breathing, and peeks in. The gyroscope spins even now in the middle of the night, producing a soft blue light from the very center. He focuses his hearing for any sounds that may come from any of six lab rooms. None do.

Confident that no one is performing a midnight experiment, he slips in. He keeps his form low, hunched, and constantly glancing around as he crouch-runs to the farthest right room in the lab. Everything is just as Magnifying's vision illustrated, only now coated in the dark of night. He approaches the metal box which contains his objective.

He comes down on one knee to level his face with it. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table just before it. Taking the lock into his hand, he presents the bottom side of it to himself, seeing four dials with symbols. Recalling the combination, he uses his right thumb to tick each dial and offer the correct combination.

"Fish thing, fish thing, uh... flower. Flower petal, and arrow goin' up."

Cl-click-chk...

The lock gives in with a satisfying sound, one not loud enough to give him worry. He twists the lock and pulls it up from the latch. He then pinches the clamp that held the metal box shut and opens it. Carefully, he retrieves the amulet with his right hand.

Half expecting some sort of alarm or giveaway that the relic was abducted, he breathes out some tension from his nose when nothing happens. He figures Kleid would have told him if there was a security system, or Magnifying may have included it in the vision. Still, he cannot let his nerves rest.

Nicking the amulet safely in one of many pockets his suit has, he closes the metal box and hitches the lock back into place. He takes his thumb to scramble the combination and secures it once again. Wasting no more time, he turns and books it out of the lab.

The procedure of escaping the Castle follows the same song and dance, with slightly more stress clamping his back and shoulders since he now carries his objective. Ever yet, the sleepy guards are ignorant to his swift passing.

Returning to the window in which he first infiltrated, he pinches open the latch and gets the window open. A cool gust of wind blows from the outside. He clambers out quickly and turns to close the window without further incident.

The same tree which assisted his infiltration serves him again as he jumps from the window sill. He catches himself with the upper bark of the tree, thin enough to wrap his arms and legs around. The tree jostles slightly from the force, luckily enough to not be seen by any wayward eyes. He uses the branches to aid his descent until he is about one floor off the ground and clear to leap off. With a gentle kickoff from the bark, he descends onto the grass below and rolls across his shoulder and back to seamlessly return to his feet and crouch sprint back towards the waterfall.

"You drink WAAAY too much of that stuff."

Crimson's chest tightens. The unruly bicker of a stallion coming from the rear Castle archway exit sounds off just before he and his partner emerge. In a panic, the man throws himself left, behind one of many two-foot tall bush hedges that are grown as aesthetic walls all around the gardens.

"Let me live my life the way I want," the second stallion harps in return.

"You should visit the doctor, see if they find blood inside your coffee stream."

"And you should join the Sunday night comedy club. Your jokes are killing me to death."

"Not any faster than your sixth mug of coffee."

Crimson slowly peeks over the hedge he lays behind. His trembling hazel orbs are but six feet away from the two stallions which stand with backs turned to him. He witnesses the stallions smack each other playfully on their helmets.

"Get to your damn post, joker."

"Don’t miss me too much."

They break off, one heading to the left with a mug of coffee in his blue magic, closer to the waterfall. The other branches off to the right closer to the edge of the city. Crimson watches them separate, which gives him a little more room to breathe, but he quickly realizes now he may have another predicament. He waits for the stallion to stop moving.

...

It is just as he feared. This stallion is very close by to the waterfall. He will undoubtedly catch him if he tried passing through it to enter the bunker. He clenches his jaw for an idea to strike him. He glances around where he lays, trying to find something useful. He notices the waterfall creates a river which is not too far off from him, maybe ten meters away just over another hedge. Beyond the river is an orchard of fruit-bearing trees.

He glances towards the guards. Their attention is fixed contrary to the river.

...

Crimson scampers onto his fours and leaps over the hedge between him and the river. He continues his mad crawl until he reaches the bank of the river. As soon as he reaches it, he comes onto his feet for a tense crouch, one which springs him over the chasm of the river safely.

He lands on the other end and immediately continues to crouch-sprint until he reaches the nearest tree. Just as he hoped, there are some fruits resting on the ground around it, having fallen from the tree itself. He picks one up, noting that it is a healthy-looking pear. It sure looks pretty damn tasty.

Against his better judgment, he picks up two more and shoves them in his left pocket, opposite to the amulet. The third pear he holds and runs closer to the waterfall. The closer he gets to the guard, the more he slows down and lowers himself to the grass. He eyeballs the guard for a moment, curious if to whether he will move eventually.

Roughly a minute of nothing happening, he clenches the pear. He looks up to the night sky and pitches the pear directly upwards. It soars into the sky, hangs high, then falls onto the grass with a splat a few meters in front of the guard.

This visibly confuses the guard. He breaks his post to slowly creep towards the suddenly fallen fruit.

Crimson dashes like an animal towards the waterfall. He leaps from the grass into the waterfall's side, popping out behind it while getting only a tad bit wet. He moves to the hidden latch, one perfectly blended with the rocky ground and walls this hidden pocket is made from. Had he not known where it already was, it would be nearly impossible to find.

He opens it and comes down, sliding the hatch back into place until it is flushed. He leaps off the ladder and lands gracefully, closing his eyes and huffing out several pounds of anxiety. Once he reopens his eyes, he looks over towards the lower bunk bed, to where a tan pegasus mare is already smiling at him very adorably.

"... Hey," Crimson smirks wryly, putting his left hand behind his neck.

"... That... was... AWESOME!" Dahlia's eyes twinkle as she flies off the bed to hover in front of him. "I didn't even think of using that tree! Skipped the whole first floor in a breeze! And the pattern you did with the pillars, the cool swerve you were doing? Hah! And don't even get me started on how you used the pear at the end!"

The man feels his face heating up slightly at the barrage of compliments coming from such a taut mare. "Appreciate you thinkin' so. Didn't know you could see that, thought the magic eyes don't stretch out that far."

"The Gardens’ ward doesn't catch the orchard, but I saw that! I saw that pear fall from the sky! Dirty little trick, and that doofus wasn't any wiser!"

"Heh, heck no he wasn't. Speakin' of that." Crimson fishes into both pockets, getting something out from each before offering them to Dahlia.

A pear and the relic. Her eyes glimmer again at their sight. She takes both of them and takes a bite out of the pear. She moans her satisfaction. Crimson opts to join her and takes out the second one he stowed away, biting a sizable chunk out of the delicious fruit. As the two chew their snack, they silently agree to return to the bunk bed and sit down. Crimson is the first to finish, eating everything including the stem. Dahlia does the same shortly after, sighing happily and setting the amulet down atop a stack of clothing at the foot-end of the bunk bed.

The two share eye contact. The man sees that there's still some bottled-up giddiness in the little pegasus, and her happiness is rubbing off on him.

Once she realizes they're simply staring at each other with nothing being said, she looks away with rising embarrassment. "You did a really good job out there, Crim."

"Thanks, girly. It went off smoother than I thought it would. Guess some things don't change, especially not in the Guard. Makes me realize their security arrangements need some work. Couldn't dream of pullin' somethin' like this off against the Horseshoes."

"You're right about that, Horseshoes got every inch of their hides covered. I think the Consortium's been getting soft over the years, probably because they're being babied by the gang so hard."

"Makes our job easier. Say, you figure out what we're gonna do tomorrow?"

"Nope, not yet, but I have figured out where I'm gonna get some ideas. Now that you're back, I'll sneak out of here and fly into the city. There's some public booths scattered across Canterlot that have tourism pamphlets. They're pretty much dotted calendars that let you know about interesting stuff happening for the month."

"You sure showin' yer face in public's a good idea?"

"Don't worry about it, Crim. Common ponies don't even know I exist."

"What about our friends in the Gardens?"

Dahlia shoots him a bored look, one which speaks 'really?'

"Right, pardon me, Equestria's best treasure hunner."

"Apology accepted! Now sit tight, I'll be back before you know it."

Crimson nods to her, prompting the mare to hop off the bed and hover to the stone hatch. With only a small struggle does she lift the heavy stone - the sound of rushing water invading the bunker. She takes her leave and closes the latch carefully, leaving the man to his lonesome.

He sighs as his eyes drift into the void. He cannot stop himself from being just a bit worried for her, even though he likely has nothing to worry about.

"Likely."

He tries to keep his mind off her potential endangerment, instead looking at the collection of items set on the bed next to him. The throw-projector is first to take his attention. It appears that Dahlia powered it off, it looks the same as it did before he left. He wonders how it works, how it taps into wards, how it does... anything, really. He accepts the fact that there are people, or ponies, out there who are smarter and always will be smarter than him.

He then turns his attention to the amulet, but only briefly. Dahlia set it down atop of his duster coat, which is the true item of his interest. He moves the relic next to the throw-projector and picks up his duster, extending it out from its neatly folded state. He fishes into one of the inner chest pockets, retrieving the stuffed plush from inside. He rests his duster on his lap while taking the bunny into both hands.

Poor little thing is a bit compressed, appearing now as an oval rather than a circle. He tries to mend this by squeezing it at the farthest oblongs. The first few attempts do not result in much of a fix, the little red bunny ends up fluffing back out to a distorted shape. He opts to squeeze it again a bit harder this time, and keeping the clamp on it down for a minute.

His fingers ease up on the pressure and the bunny pops back out... into a perfect circle. The man smiles while rotating it around, admiring its restored state. Satisfied, he lets his arms and hands fall atop of his duster, still holding the bunny. He makes eye-contact with its little black beads. His mind begins to wander again.

He hopes Autumn is doing well. Maybe one day he can visit her again once this is all over. Just to show her that he still cares. Or maybe he should not. He could be intruding into the new life she made for herself, one that very clearly does not include him. Perhaps its best to let sleeping dogs lie. An unfolding completely due to happenstance. He does not regret his decision, but he cannot bring himself to unstaple the wound.

Maybe he does not have to. He was meant to move on, and this little plush might be the representation of that. The hell he parted from gave him a new beginning and a new mask. He supposes he is not meant to take this bunny back to that hell, instead take it with him as life ushers him forward.

Crimson picks his duster back up and returns the bunny to its home. He folds the duster up again, this time being mindful of the chest region and folding everything around it. He sets it back down on the pile of his clothes and returns the amulet to the top, leaving Dahlia's organization undisturbed.

His eyes dilate when the sound of scraping stone startles him. He throws his attention to the latch, it opens up and a tan pegasus comes hovering down. She closes the latch with a grunt, one muffled from having something in her mouth.

"Welcome back," the man greets.

Dahlia hovers over to the bed and sits back down, her breath slightly elevated from her recent activity. She takes the thing from her mouth into her hoof, something which looks to be a magazine. "Behold!" she holds it in front of Crimson's face, "the Canterlot Manifest! This bad boy has all the news and insights we need to find a sweet activity to spend tomorrow with!"

"Hell of a job gettin' this, Deedee. Didn't run into any trouble, did'ya?"

"Ppft, not even. Flew in and outta here while those dumb mugs out there were dozing off. Let me tell ya', zero flight control at night in Canterlot. Airspace up for grabs for any runaway thieves. Besides, I didn't have to steal this pamphlet. They're public. I just found a booth, asked the annoyingly peppy mare there to give me one, and that was that."

"Surprised them community clerks are still open at midnight."

"You should be surprised if they're closed. Canterlot's still brimming with life at night, which is prime time for most of the shit going on around here. But come on! We won't be able to pick out anything good if we take too long."

"Righty-o. Take a look-see."

"Hmm..." Dahlia flips the pages of the magazine, seeing plenty of adverts, happenings of famous ponies, and other presentations completely uninteresting to her. She finds the calendar inside the very last page, sounding an, "Ah, here we go." Her magenta orbs scan the page quickly. "So according to the mare I asked, an hour ago was April sixth, midnight now is April seventh. So we can pick anything that's happening on the seventh. Huh, lucky us. Today's a Friday."

"Lucky’s right. Got me thinkin’ how coincidental it is that y'all have the same names fer months like I do back home. Been so caught up with shit happenin’, I hadn't even come to consider that, much less what day we're actually in."

"Well we speak the same language, so it shouldn't be that surprising. But what do I know, I'm not a Ponish major or something stupid like that."

"That makes two of us. What do they got in terms of food ‘round here? My treat."

“I’ll look, but probably nothing you’d like.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Dahlia shrugs, scanning the list again. “Ignoring the ones that strictly deny pets or human entry, they’ve got… mm… huh. They've actually got lots of options for restaurants. Wow. Way too many. Live shows, mellow, hookah, all you can eat, eastern banquet.”

“Anythin’ you prefer?”

“Nah, not really. It's all the same to me.”

“What about a place that’s got some good beer?”

“Blegh,” Dahlia gags exaggeratedly. “Crim, this is Canterlot, the city of the rich. They’re not known for beer here. Just wines and spirits.”

“Hell, I could go for wine. Been years since I’ve had it.”

Dahlia purses her lips, now using his sought beverage as a method to thin down the list. “Hmm… looks like we have two options for good wine. Diamond Chisel and Maroon’s Exquisite Platters.”

“Mm. One sounds pretentious, the other sounds conceited.”

“And those aren’t even the worst. All of the restaurant names are unbearable, just like anything the wealthy does.”

“Considerin’ the hauls we’ve made, I’d watch how we talk about ourselves.”

Dahlia cannot help but smirk at him, finding joy in him being quite right about their current payroll.

“How ‘bout we take a leap’a faith on the Diamonds place. Only folk I’ve met who put their name on their product are snake oil peddlers.”

“If that’s what you want, sure. Looks like you picked right, they don’t require reservations ahead of time or anything dumb like that. Only thing we might have to worry about is the wait time for a table.”

“Not a big deal if we show up in the early afternoon. Now how ‘bout somethin’ to end the night with? They got any entertainment? Theater 'n such?”

Dahlia’s tongue comes out between her lips as she looks over the page again. “A few things, from the looks of it. Sucks most of it needs tickets that are sold out or a reservation months in advance. We've got… more live shows. Local musicians,” she chuckles, “including some band named Tu-Tu Du-Du. The Miss Canterlot pony pageant, tickets available for that. The Vox Humana Runway. Nope, that’s sold out. Oh! This one sounds promising," she smacks the paper twice with her hoof, "Superplex Cinema just opened a week ago, so they’ve probably got loads of stuff there. Huh, a roaming stallion magician named the Great and Powerful Tirade—”

“Hold up,” he suddenly stops her. “… What was that one you said earlier?”

“The Superplex Theater?”

“Nah, nah, before that.”

“The Runway?”

“That. … That ain’t what I think it is, is it?”

Now understanding his sudden caution, she puts the magazine on her lap and gazes over to him. His eyes are still fixed on the magazine. “Yeah. It is. But like I said, Crim, it's sold out.”

“C'mon, ain’t there no way we can get in there? There’s gotta be a way.”

“Why do you wanna go to a human fashion show so bad? It doesn’t seem like your style.”

“It’s… it…” He lines his brows, finding no way to sugar coat it. “… I… just wanna see ‘em. What they’re like. Other than the wild humans ‘n a… few experiences I’ve had with ‘em, that’s just it. I want'a see more of 'em. I just... can’t help myself.”

“It’s a full show, Crimson. They literally don’t have any more spots left. We should just pick something else.”

He squints and clenches his fists. “… You can pick.”

“What? No, come on, I wanted to take this day off for you. It wouldn't make sense if I picked.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but… I ain’t up fer makin’ a decision. I’ll just… go wherever you take me.”

“That’s no fun, man, come on. Stop being like this.”

Crimson sighs and finally lifts his eyes to her. She can see it, a depressive void deep within his pupils - suppressed sadness emerging. The man smiles, contrasting this sight. “As long as we do it together, I don’t care what it is. I’ll enjoy it either way.”

The tan mare blushes lightly at his turn of mind. She lines her lips and picks the magazine back up. She looks at it again, her eyes scan words, but none of them are registered in her head. Her broken focus only puts attention to Crimson.

After a few seconds of looking at words but not actually reading them, Dahlia takes in a deep, quiet breath through her nose. She sets the magazine back down and looks to the man again. “Already got it planned out. You’ll like it, just you wait.”

“Lookin’ forward to it. ‘Bout time we get some shuteye.”

“You get a head start, I wanna give Kleid the relic before anything else. Least he’ll have something that shows our progress."

"Sounds good.”

Dahlia takes the initiative to flap her wings and hover to Crimson’s other side. She takes his clothes, the throw-projector, and the amulet between her chest and arms. She sets them on the second bunk so they are out of the way. Bringing just the relic with her, she hovers over to the transponder machine.

Landing next to the lever, she glances over to Crimson, who still sits idly and in thought at the edge of the bed. “Don’t mind the noise,” she comments light-heartedly.

Crimson lifts his palm to her and smiles wryly.

With that, she pulls the lever to activate the machine. Once charged, she walks onto the platform, allowing her body to become enveloped by the blue magic before it sends her away with a zoom.

‎ ‎ ‎

~~~<

‎ ‎

The transponder in Cosma’s lab spits her out, the mare herself braces and lands gracefully. She lifts her eyes and looks around the lab, somewhat surprised to see nopony around. It is late, it is to be expected that the Brains sleep at some point, but she still finds it strange not to see them waiting for her return.

She walks further into Cosma’s lab, letting her eyes dance about as if something were to sneak up on her otherwise. When no one shows, she resorts to the memory of Cosma pressing a button to call the attention of a certain somepony. She meanders to the desk, glazing the left over paperwork that was left scattered about. The button sits on the inner left corner, she reaches in and presses it in with a satisfying ‘click.’

“… Uh… hello?” she asks into the empty office.

Static comes from the little speaker next to the button, awaiting the receiver’s end of the transmission. Nothing happens for a few seconds, so she lets go of it and presses it again.

“Hel—?"

“What, what!? Hello!?”

Finally, someone picks up on the other end. It is Kleid, sounding slightly out of breath and very frantic. This takes Dahlia for a mild surprise. “Uh… hey. It’s me.”

“Who...? -- Oh!”

“Who is it, honey bee?” A faint voice speaks in the background, one also mildly tired and breathy. It sounds awfully like… Cosma. Dahlia’s muzzle scrunches.

“Wisp!” Kleid exclaims, “I wasn’t expecting you to return so quickly!”

“I can tell,” she replies, attempting to push down her disgust. “I, uh… I have one of the relics.”

Two gasps come from the other end. “Wohah! Really? You aren’t pulling my leg, are you?”

“Nope, come see it for yourself.”

Some silence comes from the speaker. “… Sorry, honey comb,” his voice is further away, but comes back at full volume just after. “A few seconds, Wisp!”

The transmission dies on Kleid’s end. Dahlia lets go of the button, feeling somewhat repulsed. She steps away from the desk, remaining still as to not touch something potentially defiled.

Not long after, the mechanical door to the lab rises, and in comes a frazzled stallion wearing a white bathrobe. Donning a unnaturally large smile, he trots right up to Dahlia. She reaches into her shirt pocket and pulls out the amulet.

“Hoaaah! Hahaha!” Kleid relishes as his pupils expand. “You weren’t kidding!”

“Can’t believe you thought I was.”

“The level of your proficiency is to be praised, Wisp! I’ve never contracted outside help with as much efficiency and professionalism as you!”

“It's not just me.”

“But of course! You and your human receive credit equally! You’ve made this Brain as happy as can be! The unstoppable duo we’ve been looking for! Many years of failure, but you’ve come and completely turned the tables in our favor! As agreed upon, your payment will be deposited directly into your treasury!”

Dahlia cracks an awkward smile, somehow not finding grand stacks of bits all that rewarding. “Yeah, thanks. … Uh…” She contemplates whether she should speak her mind.

Kleid catches this internal dilemma quickly, causing him to lean closer with one popped eye.

“… Nevermind, I’ve gotta get going,” she says as she begins to turn towards the transponder.

“That which is not spoken will never be heard.” She stops, the inner debate flares up again at his instigation. “Release the inner tension through your words, Wisp.”

Dahlia caves in and lets her ears drop, not quite understanding herself for being so influenced by somepony who is just her headhunter. It passes by her mind briefly that maybe it is not Kleid himself causing her to get soft, that perhaps another force is urging her to shoot in the darkness. Worth it or not, she turns around and faces the stallion, but keeps her eyes on the ground. “Listen… me and Sky are gonna take the day off tomorrow to blow off some steam. We’ll be after the last relic the next day.”

“Well no complaints here! The Rhye situation is still under wraps. I think you two deserve a little r-n-r after all you’ve done in such little time!”

“Yeah, so, the thing is… we kinda… well, there’s this thing we wanna do, but because we’ve been caught up with work, we missed the chance to fetch tickets for it. You can take it outta my pay or whatever, but... I was hoping maybe you can work your magic and get us into a full event.”

“Hmm. What would this particular event happen to be?”

“… A human fashion show.”

Kleid raises his left brow, looking very interested in this revelation. “And I assume this event is being held in… Canterlot?”

“Yeah.”

“The Vox Humana Runway, per chance?"

Dahlia’s ears stand back up to their full height. “Wh-- Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Not only is it a staple attraction in Canterlot, it’s owned by yours truly~” he raises his brows up and down repeatedly. “Well, more specifically, owned by Ruby, but subsidized by me. Did the tickets already sell out?” Still taken aback by this information, she barely delivers a nod. “Wow, that was fast. Ruby’s P.R team put the advertisement out four days ago.”

“I guess watching humans walk in dumb dresses is popular?”

"More-so than you think!"

"So... can you, uh... get us in?"

Kleid's eyes look to the ceiling and he smiles, as if planning something sinister. "... Get you in? Hmhm. I can do more than just 'get you in,' my dear friend." Dahlia's lips forms an 'o,' her impressed delight showing itself on her face. "Consider it a favor from me, Wisp. I'll get word to Ruby and her kin by seven AM. Feel free to... cut the line. Just give our muscle your name, and you'll be in the VIP lounge before you know it. Full access, behind the stage permissions too, if you are so inclined~"

Dahlia's mouth falls for an open smile. "You serious? And you're not taking it outta my pay?" The stallion cockily shakes his head. "Haha, thanks, Kleid! Y’know, for a Horseshoe, you're pretty sick."

"Only in the head, by most physicians' standards! Now you get out and enjoy your time off! We expect great results the following day!"

She nods to him with a firm smile. She leaves the amulet in Kleid's care, turning to take her leave using the transponder again. Kleid pulls the lever down with his magic for her, smiling at her the whole way until she is teleported out.

‎

~~~<

‎

The tan mare emerges from the magical machine inside the cement bunker behind the waterfall in Canterlot. She orients quickly, seeing that Crimson is laying down on the bed, noticing that he has changed into his original clothes, save for his duster and boots.

The man raises his brows wonderingly. "What's got you so smiley?"

Only then does Dahlia realize she is still smiling from her interaction with Kleid. Her simper drops immediately and tries to play it cool. "Uh, well, y'know... just got paid thousands of bits. Why wouldn't I be happy?"

"Hm. True." He returns his eyes to the bottom of the upper bunk without further questioning.

Dahlia trots to him and hops up onto the edge of the bed, sitting down and giving him her back. "... One more relic."

"One more 'n we're done. We get what we need 'n get the hell outta this nightmare."

"Let's hope it's as easy at it sounds."

“Best to brace fer the worst. Can’t be let down if things don’t go smoothly.”

“You’re not really an optimistic type, are you?”

“Don’t like keepin’ my hopes high.”

“But you’re not pessimistic.”

“I wouldn’t say so.”

“Which is good, I hate pessimists. Being around those types of ponies kills my flow. I’d say you’re more of a realist.”

“Folks with degrees in the human mind would often call me that. Never meant much to me.”

“Because it’s true, you take things as you see them.”

“A word that describes what people should already be doin’ sounds a little pointless, don’tcha think?”

“Not really. All types of minds think differently. There’s no ‘normal’ way to think.”

“Well, what about you? Seem to know a lot about this kinda stuff. How’d you describe your purview of philosophy?”

“Me? An optimist for sure. I’m good at what I do, and I’ll make sure I win. Doesn’t mean I’ll always win, but I like to believe my chances go down when I’m doubting myself or the situation.”

“Hmh, some sort of supernatural force judging yer success based on if you believe hard enough?”

“Heh, yeah, something like that. Shit goes bad when you think it will.”

Crimson purses his lips and tilts his head in acknowledgement. He scoots himself further to the side of the bed, creating more space between him and the mare who sits at the edge.

Dahlia raises her left brow questioning and glances back at him. “What? You move away because I smell bad or something?” He extends his arm out in a gesture of invitation. Her front hardens when she understands it. “Are you seriously asking me to lay down next to you? There’s two beds, dude.”

Crimson shrugs, bringing his arm back in. He locks his fingers behind his head and closes his eyes, saying nothing further.

Dahlia watches him sourly, as if he just insulted her then blew her off. She holds this glare for a few seconds. He does not seem keen on giving her any more attention, she thinks. This thought alone is making her upset.

Eyes closed, he cannot see what she is doing. He hears her huff before a weight comes down just beside him. A warm, soft, firm weight that has feathers. A smile creeps onto his face.

Silence engulfs the room, the depravation of sleep is pushing both parties into the dreamscape. Dahlia falls asleep within minutes. To his satisfaction, he follows behind not long after.

‎

~~~<

‎

By the time Dahlia returns from slumber, Crimson is already awake and sitting at the edge of the bed. He dons his duster and boots, giving the impression he is already prepared for today’s venture. With a silent yawn and a grunt to clear her throat, she says to him, “Didn’t even feel you get up.”

“Glad you didn’t.”

“… You been awake long?”

“Nah, few minutes at most.”

Dahlia yawns again and stretches her body, rolling onto her tummy as to spread her wings and flap them. Crimson feels the cool breeze of the wind they produce tickling the back of his head. She rolls over and throws her hindlegs off the side of the bed, sitting next to him. She looks up at the clock, seeing that it is already noon. “Sheesh, we were out for a good while.”

“What happens when you sleep late. Gonna have to do it again fer tomorrow anyway.”

“I know, just hate wasting the day like that.”

“Know how you feel. But that just means we gotta get a move on now rather than later, right?”

“Yuppers. Gimme a sec.” She flies up to the second bunk and retrieves the throw-projector. Coming back down to her original spot, she turns the device on by flipping a small bulb on the right side from down to up.

The device sputters magic in between the two steel rods that are propped up at the top, distorted and incomprehensible until she moves the antenna on the left side. An image is produced, one eerily clear that displays what is currently happening in the Gardens. Crimson watches this device work with intrigue and awe. From what he and Dahlia can tell, there is a sparse few ponies roaming about the back of the Gardens. Surprisingly, two pet humans are seen as well. No one is close to the waterfall.

“Looks like we’re good,” Dahlia affirms. “Wanna head out now?”

“Sure do, hungrier than hell.”

With that, Dahlia powers off the device and they both ready their leave. They replace the stone slab to hide the bunker from the outside world, peek from behind the edge of the waterfall, and step out into the pear orchard without being spotted.

Coming into character, Crimson keeps a listless look while keeping most of his face hidden behind his hair. He hunches to bring down his height and sticks close to Dahlia’s behind, careful not to step on her tail.

She leads him across a stone bridge that passes over the river, officially stepping into the Gardens of the Castle. He notes that she guides him to the far end of the Gardens, where the edge of the city is closest. He quickly realizes why. Walking along this side of the Castle completely avoids the training grounds and fields of the Royal Guard, instead they traverse through miniature mazes of flowers, plants and shrubs, comically small trees and larger ones. The occasional odd pony is passed, still early enough in the afternoon where the jobs and the bustle of life stifle luxury.

It is not long before they cross the length of the Canterlot Castle property, exiting through the massive gold and concrete walls that surround the perimeter. Out in the open span of Canterlot itself, Crimson absorbs the environment. Obviously nothing has changed since he had last been walking its streets with Dahlia, but the energy the city emits feels… different.

He hates it. He hates this city. With a burning fucking passion. Nothing but corruption and lies hidden behind the appearance of beauty. He recalls what Dahlia had said to him months ago on the train ride here. And he comes to realize, she was right about everything she said.

He keeps his inquisitive eyes moving behind his hair. The city has a larger population of moving bodies, which he expected. He pays more attention to the humans which roam along with their pony owners. One small amendment in a rulebook possibly hundreds of pages long completely changed society. Where he was seen as a foreign creature and abducted by the law, here his fellow man wanders free without judgement. Or at least, judgement which does not result in ill action.

Her hooves clop the marble, his boots clack it. After traversing past immensely tall buildings, being flooded by sunlight which reflects on practically every surface of this polished city, the district they enter is very obviously commercial. Stores and restaurants aplenty, his pegasus guide seems to know exactly where she is going.

A structure painted sky blue and white is where Dahlia lays her attention. A restaurant with windows surrounding it on all angles, one with a eloquently painted sign at the front. The sign illustrates a diamond which has been hollowed out at the top, acting as a wine glass with the appropriate dark purple liquid being found inside.

Without hesitation, Dahlia enters and takes Crimson in with her. They enter through a contraption the man has never seen, some kind of assortment of four doors all bound together at a center point, which rotates and allows access by walking between two doors as it spins. The situation is mildly disorientating to Crimson, but he successfully follows Dahlia through it to enter the air conditioned building.

The tan pegasus approaches an attractive, spruced-up unicorn mare standing behind a podium at the front. She, and a gruff-looking stallion with a large white beard wiping down pitchers with a towel, are the only two at the front. “For how many?” the unicorn mare asks with a smile.

“Just two,” Dahlia responds. Both she and the receptionist look towards the man, who silently observes his respectably fancy surroundings. He notes that it is fairly slow at the moment, with a select few others at tables, each party enjoying and savoring wines with overdesigned bottles and labels.

“Of course, ma’am. Please be aware that there is a forty bit servicing fee for humans. You must also provide a veterinarian’s note indicating they are socially acclimated.”

“You serious?” The mare nods with an obviously acted frown. “That wasn't on your advert in the Canterlot Manifest."

"I am very sorry, ma'am, but that is store policy."

"Man," she grunts with furrowing brows. "Listen, I don’t have a note, but he’s well trained. He won’t be causing any issues. I can pay double the fee if that helps any.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, we—"

“Table for two,” the stallion who is wiping pitchers suddenly states, not looking over to them. “Sixty bit service fee. Table available in the rose lounge. Please escort them to their seats.”

The unicorn mare furrows her brows momentarily, almost confused at the demand of the stallion who is very obviously her superior. She looks back to the duo with a forced smile and chuckles airily. “My apologies. Please, follow me.”

Dahlia follows, Crimson tags just behind. As she passes by the burly stallion, she looks over to him and delivers an amicable smile. The stallion does nothing but wink back in return, setting down his pitcher and picking up another to wipe down.

The two are escorted to a booth table at the far right end of the restaurant, a section which is designed with many red flowers, tapestries, paintings, and hanging presentations, all designed with ‘red’ in mind. They are seated across from each other, a menu and a utensil bundle at their fronts.

“May I start you with drinks?” the mare asks.

“Uuuh,” Dahlia shifts her attention between the menu, Crimson, and the unicorn mare. The man sits idly and blankly, the overenthusiastic mare adds nothing but pressure. “… I’ll look through the menu first.”

“Not a problem! Your waitress will be with you shortly!”

“Thanks.”

“Of course!”

The mare trots off. Dahlia watches her go, and once out of sight and mind, she faces Crimson. “So, uh… I guess I gotta read the menu to you, huh.”

Crimson delivers a barely noticeable nod.

“Drinks first or food?”

Crimson does not move at this question.

Dahlia gives him a wondering look. “… Oh, right,” she realizes and drops her expression, acknowledging that she didn’t ask a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question. “Drinks first?”

He nods again in the same manner as before.

“Cool, so…” She takes the menu and looks through it, flipping through the whole thing until she stares at the back page of it. “Ugh, why the hell do they have the drinks all the way in the back of the menu? It’s the first damn thing they ask you to pick, and it’s in the fucking back. How stupid is that.”

Crimson’s lips quiver at her exasperation.

“So they got… a bunch of weird ass wine names I don’t know how to say. Hrh, this is so annoying... mm… okay, so at least these highfalutin morons had the decency to put colors and… ‘flavor profiles.’ So what do you want? Something dry, soft, smooth, woody, nutty, floral, fruity, herb-- … herbaceous? Man, what the fuck.”

Crimson is gradually losing his composure at her expense.

“Do you just… do you want something specific? I have no idea what the hell any of this shit is.”

Crimson discreetly takes a glance at his surroundings. He notices an older couple of ponies a few tables away, smiling lovingly at each other and talking their hearts out quietly. He keeps his eyes on them, ensuring they do not see him as he mouths ‘sweet’ to Dahlia with emphasized phonemes. They are none the wiser.

“Sweet? … Sweet. Hmm. Okay, there’s a few here. I’ll just—”

“Hello! Good afternoon!” Dahlia is suddenly interrupted by a different mare, a teal pegasus with a blonde mane and tail. “My name is Morning, and I’ll be your server today!”

“Morning?” Dahlia asks. “Bet you’ve had lots of ponies crack the best jokes with your name as the punchline,” she states sarcastically.

The waitress mare suddenly drops her peppy attitude for one of genuine annoyance. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Dahlia smirks, taking a small liking into this waitress. “So, uh… about the wines you guys got. What’s the sweetest one?”

“The sweetest one would definitely be the Gala Rosebush. It's the go-to if you're looking to get a little 'happy'~"

Dahlia throws another pursed glance to Crimson, as if hoping to get some sort of input from him. Of course, that does not happen. She looks to the waitress again and delivers a waned smile. "Yeah, we'll get a bottle of that," she accepts, closing her menu as if she was done ordering.

"Splendid! Chilled or at room?"

"... Chilled."

"Of course! Were you ready to order, or did you need more time?"

"Oh, uh... more time, thanks."

"No, thank you! I'll be back with your wine!"

The mare dashes off despite there being no rush to do so. Both Crimson and Dahlia watch her wander off, eventually disappearing into the swinging saloon doors which lead into the kitchen at the far back. "... She seems... nice," Dahlia comments. She looks back to Crimson, who is staring blank-faced at her. Only then does she realize she made a grave social sin: idle small talk. "... Why did I say that."

Crimson cracks a full smile before forcing his lips back to where they were before.

"Hey! Don't make fun of me!" Both of their eyes bulge at the volume of her voice. "-- S-Sorry!" she whisper-shouts, lowering down her voice substantially. "I just... well, I mean, she's nice, right?"

The man remains completely still.

"Yeah, see? Glad you agree."

He still does not move.

Dahlia hunches slightly and puts her hooves on the table, letting her eyes wander.

She lines her lips and begins tapping the table quickly and repeatedly. She glances to the other parts of the restaurant, seeing many little things of interest. She sighs quickly, tapping the table just a bit faster. "Thought she'd be back with our wine by now."

The man tilts his head slightly.

"... Yeah. Kinda like you, I haven't had wine in years. Last time I actually drank it was when I still worked for that prick Pockets. I didn't even wanna drink it, it was more of a courtesy. It was the only drink he wanted served at dinner time every day. I got so sick of it, but I still forced myself to drink with him and the others. One of the other maids cleaned and closed the kitchen by the time dinner was done, and I didn't want her tattling if she caught me going through the fridge at night. So every morning I started hiding cups of water or juice behind some of the pottery around the mansion so I'd have something to drink that wasn't wine. I, uh... ended up getting caught a few weeks in. And that's when Pockets told me I was free to run through his fridge if I wanted to. Felt really stupid after that."

If Crimson could make a face, amused would be it. Yet, it remains stagnant. Dahlia returns to looking around and tapping the table again.

Finally, something to break the tension comes. The waitress appears from a far corner with a chilled bottle balanced on the major feather of her right wing. "Here we are!" She takes something out of her black apron's pocket with her left wing - a cork screw. With a display of dexterity only a pegasus can illustrate, she pokes the cork on the bottle and spins it once. Half of the cork comes out in that twirl. Another spin, and the cork comes right off with a pop. A mist comes from the neck of the bottle and seeps out hypnotically. The waitress sets the wine down in the center of the table, followed by two wine glasses she had hung on her apron. She notes the menu still being closed. "Still need more time to order?"

"Y-Yeah, just a bit more."

"Take your time! If you have any questions or concerns, please let me know!"

"Thanks."

The mare nods with some pep and trots off again post-haste. Once she is out of sight for a second time, a double tap on the table causes Dahlia to jump slightly. She glares over to him, seeing that he is tapping a finger on the closed menu. "Yeah, yeah, I'm getting to it!" she puffs with agitation while picking up the menu and sticking her muzzle in it. "... They don't have any meat, if you're wondering." She flips the page, towards the back end of the menu. Just then, her ears perk up. "... Oh. Oh, shit, wait. Maybe they do. They have one plate exclusively for humans. 'Hushies and Fishies.' Says: 'borrowed from famous griffon chefs - deboned cooked fished, served with a side of deep-fried round balls of cornmeal-based batter and seasoned fries.' That sound good?"

Crimson demonstrates his desire with many slight quick nods.

"Cool." She smiles at him before looking back down at the menu. "... I think I'll go with a house salad."

He tilts his head at her decision.

Dahlia notes this and decides to re-enact it as a gesture of mocking. "Oh, what? I can't have a salad?"

He shrugs his shoulders lightly.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Besides, almost everything else here uses basil for whatever reason. I hate basil." She fixes her attention to the bottle which still emanates a soft cool mist. She reaches with both of her hooves to take the sizable bottle, one with a design of pink flowers printed on the label. "'Gala Rosebush. Eight-teen percent. Aged to perfection, flavored with love.' Huh, tall words. We'll see about that." She proceeds to gracelessly pour the contents into both glasses for herself and the man. Setting the bottle down, she takes her own glass and waits for him to take his.

Catching on, Crimson reaches to take his glass. He holds it in front of him idly, waiting for her call.

"... Cheers," she states softly, feeling somewhat embarrassed to say it alone. Together, they reach their glasses to their lips and sip their drinks. Crimson's is more of an inelegant chug, Dahlia's is a careful quaff. Retracting their glasses, their reactions contrast by a mile. "Ho-woah!" she beams in surprise, throwing her eyes to the liquid in her glass.

Crimson is completely still, save for lifting his left sleeve to wipe his lips.

"Man, this stuff is like candy! I can't even taste the alcohol!" She moves in for another drink, one almost as brutish as Crimson's. She downs three gulps of her fruity drink before pulling it away and sighing. "We need to get more of this stuff!"

Bringing the glass back up to his lips, he nods once and drinks again.

‎

~<

‎

Her lips come off her drinking glass with a kiss. After swallowing more of her poison, she sets the empty glass down with a little more force than necessary, causing an audible clank on the polished wood table. The table is littered with plates of already devoured food, two bottles of wine, with a third being tackled.

Her head hangs for a moment, she burps tactlessly, then throws peircing eyes to the man. "And that's why I don't eat bread after seven, Crim. That's. Fucking. Why."

Crimson's eyes widen and he leans in to loom at her.

This freaks out Dahlia and she recoils, "W-What? What'd I do?"

He ensures his surroundings are clear, which is slightly more difficult since more clientele now populate the restaurant - pony and human alike. Fortunately for him, no one is sitting on the one table behind Dahlia. He mouths, 'CRIM' with stark lip and jaw movement. He leans back and acts casually again, relieved to see the ponies around do not really care about them all that much.

Dahlia squints, wondering what he means... and after three seconds, it clicks. Her eyes widen, she puts both hooves over her mouth and she gasps loudly. "I-Ih'm shorry!" she stammers with her mouth covered.

Crimson glances around again, finding it an appropriate moment to make an exit. He reaches into his duster coat and retrieves a note, the one which jots his treasury number. He leans forward and passes it discreetly to Dahlia.

She leans forward with a mild sway. Her hoof lands atop the note with a bit too much force before she drags it back to herself. She looks at the note with multiple blinks. "... Eight-six-seven-seven-seven-eight-one-two-one? Huh, well happy Hearth's Warming Eve to me!"

Crimson clenches his jaw. He throws his attention around the restaurant again, noticing a few eyes on his little tan partner. He desperately hopes their waitress comes sooner rather than later.

And oh hallelujah, here she comes. She promptly arrives to the table with a smile. "Clean plates and big smiles! I assume everything was satisfactory today?"

"No!" Dahlia calls angrily. "You still haven't brought me my other bottle of... Gala whatever!"

The waitress looks between her and Crimson with confusion. "I'm sorry, but you haven't ordered another bottle yet, ma'am."

"... I swear I did." She throws a squint to the third bottle which has yet to be finished.

Understanding now that Dahlia has lost nearly all social aptitude, Crimson takes a flying leap of faith by reaching forward and pulling the note which contains his information. He drags it across the table and leaves it directly in front of the waitress.

She looks to it, realizes what it is, and chuckles lightheartedly. "Eight-six-seven - this would be a Baltimare account, correct?" The man delivers one simple nod, hoping nothing comes of it that would not be any worse than what his intoxicated partner could potentially achieve. "Perfect! I'll be back with your receipt!" She takes the note and trots off gleefully.

Crimson cranes his neck as she leaves... and once she does, he pins his eyes on Dahlia who smirks back at him lazily. He hopes she is well enough to end the night with... whatever the hell she had planned. He glances to the wine bottle which is still half full, and deciding it is best that this little mare does not hamper herself any further, he takes it and begins to chug the rest of it down.

"Hey!"

He ignores her fussy calling.

‎

~~~<

‎

After a fairly pleasant dinner, despite the end, and a rather unreasonable bill to pay, the two head back out into the streets of Canterlot. Dahlia is surprisingly good on her hooves even though she has had a bit more to drink than her little body is conditioned to handle. She guides him well enough, even if she mumbles randomly into the air. He tries to catch what she is saying, if to hold onto it and cherish it for what it is worth, but it seems to be mostly her talking to... herself.

Evening has struck, the sun recedes as the moon shines high above the city, partially hidden behind dense clouds. The marble roads are lit by golden streetlamps. The man lifts his face to the sky, the buzz of the wine setting in comfortably. He watches the peeking moon, it provides little to no light tonight. As if it were too tired to shine brightly, or some outside force is causing the moon to take on this depressed, it takes on a melancholic nature. A very odd sensation acquired from staring at the moon gives this inexplicable feeling, and he is unsure why. He begins to think he is being too cynical, that there is really no way the moon could display emotions like this. If the moon could, it definitely would not be sad, more like ‘calm’ and ‘comforting.’ He feels that he is selfishly projecting his own emotions onto the poor moon. She never did anything to deserve being called a depressive ball of light.

He feels his thigh nudged on by Dahlia, “Cr-- ... Sky?”

Crimson snaps out of his 'nightdreaming' state and stares forward. He sees that they are approaching a large, asymmetrical building that is strobing with all sorts of lights. The entire building is watched by a plethora of pony security guards, so many they could form a small army. One unicorn guard is letting everyone in after taking their ticket, analyzing it, and tearing it in half. Judging from the posters scattered all around the building and the strobing of lights, this edifice is backed by quite a powerful being. One which is making lucrative money on...

His chest feels heavier. "Could this be...?"

"Feast..." Dahlia starts with a snarky smile, "... your eyes... on the Humana Runway~"

"... It is." Crimson can't believe it, but physically cannot question her. "Is she too drunk to realize she might be taking us to the wrong place?"

She continues toward it, and by default, he does as well. By the time they arrive to the massive unicorn stallion bouncer who guards the double doors, all eyes from the hundreds of waiting ponies in line glare spite to them. "Hey," she starts through her buzz.

The stallion says nothing.

"... Wwwisp. Y'know what'm saying?"

The stallions eyes bulge. He bows with great respect before channeling his magic to pull out two glowing neon red strips of plastic from his coat pocket. He levitates one to Dahlia and clamps it around her foreleg, the other on Crimson's wrist. He then steps aside, allowing entry to her and her human. The other ponies in line witness this, and the first to advocate their displeasure is a pegasus stallion who was next in line.

"What the fuck! I was next!" the pegasus stallion cries. "I paid good money for this event, I shan't be--! OUHFH!"

Shock takes the crowd when the bouncer suddenly rears up and clocks the pegasus in the jaw, throwing his immediately unconscious body onto the marble floor of the city.

Dahlia and Crimson see this happen as they walk through the front doors, with the mare cringing a little on the downed pegasus' behalf. Entry resumes like normal after the duo has entered, the unconscious stallion left on the ground without question.

Once inside, the colorful, dimly lit stadium-like room blares some sort of futuristic music. The odd sounds emitted from magical speakers are of the likes at the Gloriosa. The enclosed structure they enter into has a large catwalk-stage in the center. The right side to the stage has comfy-looking seats in ascending rows. The left side, behind the stage and its curtains, is probably where all of the preparation happens. Opposing the stage, metal bleachers line up and climb almost all the way to the high-up ceiling. It seems that many of Canterlot’s citizens, who pack the house to near-full, are waiting for this show to begin. Most of the seats on the bottom rows are already filled, leaving only seats that are higher and farther away from the stage.

Just before Dahlia could orient herself to her surroundings, she is confronted by a short, chubby mare that looks to be taking on some age. She wears glasses and dons very snappy business attire. She has this huge, toothy smile on her face when she first notices the glowing red band on her leg. She then stares directly at her.

She introduces herself as Pennyside, the director of the show tonight. Dahlia acknowledges this, but occasionally glances to Crimson to see if he is fairing well in this new environment. This overweight mare exclaims how happy she is to have a pony of her status attend her show. Then, she suddenly presents Dahlia with an opportunity to be a judge for tonight’s competition. She declines the offer with a somewhat disgusted shaking of her head. The mare gives an unnecessarily hearty laugh and nods with understanding. She offers to guide her to her seat, which Dahlia agrees to.

This round mare takes the lead, Dahlia and Crimson in tow. They walk across the first row of bleachers towards the right side of the stage. At this right end, a small lounge blocked off by over ten built stallions is stationed. It provides an excellent view of the stage being so close up. Arriving at this lounge, the two bouncers guarding the velvet rope move quickly to grant access to Pennyside and her important attendants. It seems that this section exclusively allows ponies and humans, since no humans are to be found in the general bleachers, yet some are seated here with their pony owners.

Pennyside ushers the two in and plants them on isolated cobalt velvet couches facing directly to the stage, much more luxurious and comfortable than the metal stands where the masses sit.

Asking above the boisterous music, Pennyside offers further assistance. Dahlia again declines and the mare takes a polite leave.

Now left to their lonesome, Dahlia and Crimson share a three cushion couch with round tables after both armrests. The tables rest bottles of alcohol, potentially more wine, but neither of them are up for more drinking.

Crimson feels his heart beating a bit faster, having absolutely no idea how Dahlia managed to get them in with little other than her name. He cannot question it now, so it rolls with whatever is going on and presses down his anxiety.

He catches that he is not the only one feeling anxious. Dahlia's hazy self seems to glance around very trepidly, as if hearing her name being called and trying to find the source of it. Brazenly, he reaches in and pulls her close. Her inebriated self does not fight it whatsoever, and as a matter of fact, accepts it. She wraps her arms around his chest and back, resting her head on his inner chest. Crimson finds this consenting of his embrace very endearing and makes sure to keep her tension down as best as he can.

He faces the stage and sighs out some stress of his own. With so much going on, he cannot tell if he's being stared at or not. Probably not, since all of these high-class ponies in extravagant clothing are too full of themselves to really pay mind to one human amongst a crowd. The first noteworthy happening is the switching of ambient colors. He looks at the stage where a mare appears from behind the curtains. The stage itself is ample, pristine, and the floor of it is shiny. The curtains that shadow off the back scenes are what the man focuses on the most, everything happening behind there is what piques his interest. From where he is seated in the VIP lounge, he has a small peek at behind the curtains, where most of it is completely black and shadowed, with occasional silhouettes wearing the same red glowing band he does passing about.

The music begins to pick up in speed and increase in volume, the lights of the room strobe according to the music. Colored lights, weird music, the architecture of this building, it is all feeding him a single energy: Black Horseshoes. More-so than the Gloriosa.

“Fillies and gentlecolts!” calls the youthful mare wearing too much makeup, the one who took the stage earlier. She speaks into a microphone, “We are nearing tonight’s Lovely Lady competition! The four judges tonight will be rating—!”

Crimson ends up blocking out what the mare is saying, focusing on looking around instead. There are still no signs of acting humans anywhere. He sighs sits back in the seat that he hardly fits in, accommodating for Dahlia by taking her back with him. After some more staring around and finding nothing, he returns his attention to the talking pony onstage.

“—And we would like to take this time to give a word to our sponsors tonight!” the mare cheerfully calls.

The music changes in tone, the lights focus on the stage. Several ponies emerge from the curtains, all wearing distinct and obviously branded clothing. Soon after, one single human appears just behind them. She is dressed in awfully ridiculous attire. She looks like a walking circus tent from the waist down. He examines the woman’s face, she too has been prettied up by makeup and fancy combing. The expression she is making seems… exactly how he feels watching this. Unimpressed, bored, half-lidded eyes, the same expression that every human he has seen take on. That emotionless energy.

He recalls being told by Dahlia that humans never make faces, other than angry ones. He knows this to be untrue, yet... he understands why ponies come to this conclusion. He never sees anything but a dull, blank look on the few humans he has encountered. The wild humans he has faced were snarling and savage. The tamed humans back at the Gloriosa were something he could only describe as... uncanny. Abnormal. Those girls working the poles had expressions other than bland, but it was too obvious it was fake, potentially trained into their routines to make such expressions. Nothing felt organic.

He looks at the woman on the stage again. The muscle groups in these humans' faces, those responsible for expression, are very much functional. Each and every human in Equestria is capable of smiling... but never do. This very thought irks him. The only one girl who had been able to illustrate to him something new, something outside of the common mold, was Autumn. Thinking about her again, along with the wine he has drank, it is forcing a feeling to arise which he would rather not feel.

He throws his attention to his surroundings as the uninteresting adverts run their course. He looks down at Dahlia, seeing that she is barely keeping her eyes open. It looks like the food and alcohol she had is catching up to her. He then looks past her and over his right shoulder, into a dark corner where steps enter the back of the stage. His attention fixes on something he just now notices - two ponies and a human attempting to move luggage to the back of the stage. These two ponies, one a pegasus mare and the other a unicorn stallion, seem to be having trouble doing this exact task. The human stands idly behind her owner, uncaring of the struggle the two go through. By the looks of it, the mare is barking at the stallion for being unable to carry the two large luggage cases with his magic.

He hones in on the girl, her features are not very clear in the darkness and sporadic neon lights. Not a rhyme or a reason to her inaction.

The mare shouts something he barely catches over the thumping music. "-- AND WE'LL BE DISQUALIFIED!"

The altercation begins to pique his amusement. What she has stated, along with the fact that the dotted muscle around the stadium isn't bothering to assist them in any way, has him debating a course he probably should not be. He looks down to Dahlia again. At the very least, she looks comfortable now. Her eyes are dancing across the presentations on the stage in a relaxed manner. He then looks up to the debacle happening in the dark. The mare over there looks almost ready to cry.

Crimson takes a moment to look at the glowing red bands that they wear. He then looks down at his left wrist, where he wears this exact piece. An idea congeals, he figures he may be able to confront their issue himself.

He certainly thinks he may have drank more than he should of to keep himself sane, he has coaxed himself to do it. He gently releases his hold on Dahlia, which she looks to him and wonders what he is doing. He throws his chin to the scene in question. She looks to it, does not find it all that fascinating, and looks back to him questioningly. He puts his face closer to hers, their lips but an inch apart. With his and her hair shrouding both their faces, "I'll be back," he speaks his words with enough volume to allow her to hear it, but soft enough to let the music kill it quickly. He rises from his seat, Dahlia watches him do so with an opened mouth and continued wariness.

He uses the dimly lit environment to his advantage as the darkness allows him to travel to the velvet ropes that surround the far end of the VIP section. He passes by couches just like his, where other VIP attendants are seated. They see him, they eyeball him, but they do not question his movement. They watch him pass, then refocus on the stage. He hopes the same can be said about the bouncers. Considering the magical red piece of 'don't fuck with me' plastic his wrist dons, he doubts they will interfere.

He arrives at the bordering rope at the edge of the lounge. He steps over the rope one leg at a time, getting himself in between two bouncers that are guarding this section. They snap their heads at him, gawk at him as he passes them, and watch him approach the two ponies and their human.

As Crimson walks up to the trio, he witnesses the stallion channel his purple magic and fail once again to lift the luggage. After this pathetic display, the mare and stallion shift their defeated attention to him. To his interest, the human stops void-gazing to look his way as well. Their stares are both curious and horribly afraid.

Ignoring them, Crimson looks at the bags of luggage. He struts up to them, extending his hands out to grasp each of them by the handle. He lifts them up effortlessly, holding them at his sides, then faces the mare who nearly has tears of frustration ruining her makeup. Only then does she realize what this man is doing.

"THANK YOU!" the mare squeals over the music. "OH MY GOODNESS, OH MY GOODNESS! THA-HA-HA-HANK YOOOOU!"

The stallion, while skeptical, takes a step back and wipes his forehead in relief.

Crimson turns towards the stage, prompting the mare to lead. Right on cue, she does so with a rejuvenated trot. The stallion and the human follow right behind her. He tags along at the end of the line, noticing that he is being glanced at occasionally by the ecstatic mare. They ascend the wide stairs to enter the backstage.

He harbors a mixture of tension and ease, both that this completely thoughtless stunt netted him the result he wanted, but now he is in this predicament. He uses this opportunity to take in the backstage, seeing a long line of humans standing on the stage behind the curtains, waiting in line for the show to begin. With these humans, their pony owners stand next to them. The faces of these ponies are almost worse than those of their humans, restless and disgruntled. The air they give off makes them look very full of themselves and very stressed out, a stark contrast to the mare he is currently assisting.

To the farthest back of the stage, the polished marble floor gives way to waxed wood, leading into a long hallway that is lit up by white fluorescent bulbs. The hall contains all sorts of doors with names tagged onto them. They enter these halls as a group. Some humans are still preparing for their performance, the wafting of different perfumes emanates from the dressing rooms.

Now that the lighting has improved drastically, Crimson is able to take in the details of the party in front of him. He is not sure why the pegasus mare is so familiar, strikingly so, but it starts to irk him. The stallion for sure is a new face, no issues there. Same for this human. Both ponies are dressed in dark blue suits of matching design, and the girl wears something - a dress, modest and simple - which he is not familiar with. Flora prints, two-inch wide straps that hold the dress from her shoulders, tight and well fitted at the torso while the skirt portion flows down elegantly to her knees. He does not know what type of dress it is, but it sure looks pretty. He comes to consider what a certain someone would look like in it, a girl who is woefully far way.

One of these rooms seems to belong to this mare as she reaches into chest pocket of the dark blue suit she wears, taking a key into her hoof and unlocking the door. She pushes the door in with haste and turns on the lights via a switch, the stallion and girl enter before Crimson does. "There, please!" She points her hoof where she wants the man to set down her belongings. He obliges and moves to set down both cases next to the door. He steps back, trying to ignore the fact that the human girl is staring at him, and has been staring at him constantly.

The uneasiness in this pegasus mare does not relent yet, she trots in place very quickly like if needing to relieve herself. "Thank you, thank you! Uugh, we still need to sign in!" She glares angrily at the stallion, who stands idle like a statue. "Telles, be useful for once and get us signed in! I need to use the little filly's room!"

"Uh-Yh-- Yes! Ma'am! Right away!" He submits easily and aims to dash out of the room.

Before he can exit, the mare extends her wing to stop him in his tracks before the doorway. She glares at him, unapologetically reaches into the inner chest pocket of his dark blue suit, and pulls out a small tied coin purse from inside. The stallion's ears drop just as his expression does. She puts down her wing and throws her head towards the door. He runs out, head hung low.

She shakes her head and attempts to settle her nerves through a deep exhale. She trots towards the man and takes the initiative to place the coin purse into one of his pockets. It slips in harmlessly, makes a peculiar sound at making contact with the ammo boxes. Luckily, she does not mind the sound or questions it, instead she turns and says, "Thank you! If your owner frequents the Castle, please take them to the Royal Tailor's! A personal discount from me awaits them! From yours truly, Yuvia Lace!" She looks towards the girl. "Please get into make up, Clarie! I'll be back!"

As the mare named Yuvia Lace leaves, it hits him like a rock. This mare is one of the Royal Tailors. One of many that lined up to kiss his face after making his new set of clothing. The pit in his gut is satisfied at solving the mystery, and best of all, she was none the wiser to who he really is. Crimson barely realizes that he is alone with the human. She has not taken her eyes off of him once the entire time he has made his presence.

The skin of this woman is light pink, her hair is light blue with white streaks. Her green orbs lock onto him and do not relent. Her expression is callous, almost judgmentally, yet she continues to stare. Crimson eyes her back with equal listlessness.

Without prompting, Claire slowly walks towards him until she stands directly before him. Her eyes level out with his abdomen, making her tilt her head up to continue staring at his face.

He remains still as to possibly avoid agitating her. He is not sure what is causing her to do this, but he relishes the opportunity to study her face, it being so close up to him. No makeup, nothing to bastardize her original form unlike the other humans outside. Her nose is small and shapely, her lower lip is filled while her upper lip is thin. The general shape of her face certainly reminds him of Autumn, but with enough distinctions to tell that this is a completely different girl, colors aside.

Her large, reflective eyes gaze with their bored, unamused nature, but they contain an odd sense of conviction. One that seems to be building every passing second.

Satisfied that he at least got this close to another human, he reckons he should not overstay his welcome. He politely takes one step back from Claire, turns on his heels, and moves to exit--

Clasp...

He stops on a dime. He looks down to his left arm, seeing a pink hand detaining the cuff of his sleeve. He turns himself back around, and only then does the girl stop holding his sleeve. He stares into her eyes once again, finding that conviction stronger than ever. There is a hundred different things she could possibly want... he does not want to risk a wrong guess.

Claire begins to stand on the tippy toes of her dress sandals and extends her hands out towards his face. Too short to actually reach him, he entertains her by coming down enough for her to touch him. She plants her hands on his cheeks and simply holds them.

"Kind... ness..."

His eyes dilate and a breath escapes his mouth. Words. Her words, the voice of a young woman. Furthermore, he feels-- hears... sees something. Upon this girl making contact with him, his Arch begins to burn his blood. A sensation so familiar, he recalls it as clear as day. In the glow after their dance, he was able to 'feel' Autumn in the same way he does Claire at this moment. A gentle contact which streams emotion and intention into his psyche. It is incomprehensible. He quickly understands now that his passive radiation of Arch, which can absorb the tension and stress from the one he holds, is also capturing emotions, foggy memories, and intentions.

He knows this is a bad idea, and he sincerely hopes no one comes back... but he reaches his hands towards her cheeks and cups them as well. His hands feel their warm, smooth fullness - cheeks one would love to pinch and stretch. He simply holds her, mirroring what she does to him.

Like fixing the reception on a satellite, the blurry thoughts and ideas that were scattered in his own mind become readable, barely so but nevertheless. He catches everything that she is thinking, and to his surprise, she is intentionally thinking with him in mind. Small fragments of visions, places, things, the theme she is showing him slowly replaces the pieces of broken glass which illustrate the picture. White dresses, beautiful rings, flower bouquets, chirping doves as they fly past a sunset. A perfect and optimal moment.

Everything he sees in her begins to dispirit him. It becomes obvious what she wants. The projections and pieces of her life she allowed him to see, there is simply no time or opportunity for it. Most other humans she has had to interact with or spend time around were all female - none a contender for that special day that she yearns so deeply for.

"Hap... py."

Her voice echoes in his head again. He blinks once, trying to stave off the building sorrow he feels for this woman. He analyzes her face again. She commits the same expression, but... it speaks a different story now. The twinkle in her eyes cry out that she yearns for more than just... this. Whatever her life is and has become. Yet, she is powerless to stop it. All of her tears and agony are stuffed inside the farthest reaches of her conscious, while her mind and body do as whatever commanding force obligates them to.

Equally so, he is powerless to help in any way. This single thought sets his heart ablaze.

Slowly, he lets go of Claire's cheeks and lets his arms fall to his sides. She refuses to let go, but they both know it is an inevitability. Crimson steadily stands back up to his full height, effectively causing her hands to slip away from his cheeks and onto his chest.

Crimson lines his lips, unable to hide his remorse. Claire's face does not change. The glittering in her eyes only strengthens, until the inner corners of her eyes drop one tear each. An emotional pain he will never be able to shrug off attacks his soul. He takes a step back, excusing himself silently, and takes his leave from the dressing room.

Before he disappears past the doorway, he takes one last look at her. She stands idle, both tears reaching her chin though none further come. That gleam in her eye which speaks her sadness twinkles one last time.

He begins to walk and break line of sight with her. He balls his hands into fists to contain his enflamed emotions. He turns around and walks out to the backstage and returns to the staircase he used to enter it. He directs himself to the VIP lounge he was sitting at before, seeing that a few more ponies and humans have arrived. Judging by the humans already strutting across the stage in absolutely ridiculous attire, the show has already begun. As he approaches the muscle surrounding the VIP area, much to his satisfaction, one of them unhitches the velvet rope to allow him re-entry. He treks past them, actively holding in his instinctual words of appreciation for such a gesture.

He weaves past the curious ponies seated in their couches in the VIP section, catching Dahlia from a distance. She is sitting up straight and focusing on the stage, not aware of his impending return. She looks very much worried, but still watches the show. Once he arrives and props himself up to sit down, she immediately snaps her attention to him like a sentry. He sits and leans back in the sofa. He extends his arm out for her again, which she couples into his embrace once more, as if he were to leave again if she did not.

The man looks down towards her, expression blank. She looks up towards him, brows furrowed in something akin to annoyance. He will definitely have to explain himself later. Now that everything is said and done, what he pulled was possibly the most idiotic thing imaginable, considering who he works for and what he is doing here.

No matter, nothing happened at the end of the day. At least, he hopes so. The evening is still young, and the show has just begun.

He sets his sights on the stage. More females in insane dress-wear strut back and forth, coming in and out of the curtains. He finds himself unable to focus on them. A pressing guilt weighs on his shoulders, an uneasiness in his heart watching the humans as they move. They are not happy. Who knows if they have ever been happy. Just like Claire, they are in a perpetual state of depression. Either pet-slaves to an unmindful pony, or a wild creature that hides in a cave.

Their lives are... pointless. Whatever dreams or aspirations they harbor, something causes them to remain unfulfilled.

Crimson’s eyes widen and he leans forward upon seeing Claire taking the stage. She now wears silly clothing as well, something like a giant cyan snake formed as a dress that slinks around her entire body, but that is seldom the issue. She performs most of her run as well as one would expect from a professional model, save for... the very end. As she strikes several different poses and turns, there is a brief moment where her wandering eyes meet Crimson in the crowd.

She keeps going, as if not even acknowledging him. The pink girl, with her gorgeous hair and thriftless dress, finishes her poses and the crowd cheers for her. She remains still, allowing the judges time to jot down their opinions. As soon as she turns to take her leave, another tear races down her cheek - one which no one seems to catch. It travels quickly, emphasized by her congealing makeup. One single tear.

She disappears past the curtains, never to be seen again.

Act 12: Face of a Stranger

~ Canterlot Castle, The Gardens ~<
April 7th, Friday, 23:08

‎

The night has become dark. No moon visible - the lampposts which illuminate the Gardens of Canterlot Castle are the only beacons in this gloomy dusk. A shadow uses this darkness to traverse the green and approach the waterfall, as well as his own left hand to silence the incoherent sputters of the mare he holds closely against his chest.

Past the grass and away from the view of the patrolling guards, Crimson dives himself and Dahlia behind the waterfall and enters them into the bunker. He descends, replaces the stone hatch, and carefully takes one metal ladder step after the other until he reaches the bottom. He feels his hand wet and warm.

He removes the hand which covered Dahlia's mouth, and the mare sighs, "Haaa~" She licks her lips, getting off the saliva which was plastered on them. She looks up to Crimson and he looks back down to her simultaneously. "... Your hand smells... good," the little mare mumbles. With his left brow raised at her antics, he walks to the bunk bed and sets her down. Being put down seems to cause displeasure as she complains, "Heeey!"

Crimson lets out a breath from his mouth before he kicks off his boots. The day was certainly something to remember, at least for one of them. The other might not even remember it at all. He unbuckles his belt, slips it out of its loops, and lets it fall to the ground as he shrugs off his duster. Both of them hit the cement at the same time.

He lets himself drop down onto the bed, almost rolling over Dahlia. He rests on his back and closes his eyes. The mare seems to get the hint and plops herself down next to him, also resting on her back with eyes closed and mouth slightly hung.

"Huuunnh, woooo..." she hums quietly. "Hnnhh..."

Crimson's eyes come open slightly when he feels her come closer. She rolled onto her side, putting one hoof under his arm and the other extended over his chest. He shifts his eyes down to her, seeing that hers are still shut. He finesses his arm out from her extended arm and pulls her closer, tucking her head and cheek onto his inner pectoral.

"Hmm... soooft~" she mumbles again.

... What a strange feeling. He wants to put a word to it, however difficult it may be. ... Happiness. Maybe. Something sort of like it, but with pieces missing. Happiness with holes in it. Holding Dahlia close like this makes him feel happy, there is no doubt about it. Yet, something feels... incomplete. He reaffirms his hold on her by squeezing her slightly.

"Mmmmh~"

Yup. It is indeed Dahlia that he is holding. The aggressive, bickering mare is now vulnerable in his hold. He is not smiling at the moment, his expression is droopy and drained, but partial happiness is what he feels in this moment.

"Crimmin..."

"Hm?" He asks in return to her calling his 'name.'

"... Why?"

"Mm?"

"Why're you like this... Crimmin..."

"Like what?"

"Why... why're... you like this..." He starts to realize maybe she is not fully cognizant of what she is saying or doing. He opts to not answer, in the event that this is the case, but he comes to regret it when she elevates her tone. "Answer meeee!" She lifts her head and opens her eyes, glaring hazy magenta fury into him.

"What're you talkin' about, girly? Like what?"

"Y'know!"

"I don't."

"Huugh, see! You're... always... likethis." She puts her head down on his chest again, her eyes half lidded and looking toward his face, but he can tell she is not actually looking at him.

"I think you need some sleep. Had little more wine than you can handle."

"Shuttup..."

He smiles at this, looking down at her aether-gazing front. He admires her from this close, melded between delight at being able to without her getting upset, and astonishment that he has somehow reached a point with her that he can.

"Crimmin..."

"Mm?"

"... Can I ask'ym something?"

"Anythin'."

She closes her eyes tightly, enough to put just a slight amount of concern into him. She keeps them tightly closed as her breathing picks up slightly. "F'you can not get mad at me?"

"Fer what?"

"The thiing…"

"You haven't asked the thing yet."

"... Yeah, well, you... you haven't asked the thing either."

"Suppose you’re right."

Her eyes open briefly. "Don't get maaad!" she pleads before shutting them again.

"Fer what?”

"Promise you won't get mad!"

"Right, Deedee, right, I won't get mad. What is it?"

The mare shuffles slightly, somewhat curling into a ball before lining her lips. "You wun'nt get mad if... I wannettokiss... you?"

"... What?" He asks as his eyes widen. He heard her. He heard her loud and clear, despite the waning of her voice.

"Yousaid you wun'nt get maad!"

"Deedee, I ain't mad, I'm just..."

She lifts her head and glares pleading eyes into his. "I-I can explain! It's just, like, um... y-you know the--! W-Winty! You remember Winty!?"

"Sssh, sssh, easy. Easy," he murmurs to her as he puts his hands around her back, attempting to ease her climbing apprehension. "Yes, I remember Winty. Gal from Dodge."

"Yeah! H-Her! She! Winty! She kissed you, remember?"

"Clear as day."

"W-Well, I-I just... I just think it's not fair! It's not fair she got to and-- she-- she doesn't even, like... she doesn't even know you!"

"Dahlia, you were the reason she kissed me to begin with."

"No!"

"Yes?"

"No! It's not fair! Not fair she got to!"

He nearly speaks his mind, but quickly realizes that this poor little creature is terribly intoxicated. Maybe not black-out, but far from sober. He huffs in resignation, gazing back into her trembling eyes. "... 'N what's the solution to this issue, you suppose?"

Dahlia stops for a moment, simply glaring back at him in silence. She tucks her chin, stares up at him, and scrunches her muzzle. "... T-That... you tell me the truth. The reaaaal truth."

"On?"

"You."

"... Uh-huh..."

"You! The real truth with you 'n... Moonlight!"

The man quickly feels his cheeks heating up. "Me 'n Moonlight? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know! You and her! You liked her! You liked and-- and you probably kissed her and stuff!"

"... Huh?"

"Huh? Huuh?" she rudely mimics him, deepening her voice while doing so.

"Dahlia, cut it out.”

"Why do you hate me!?" she cries with tightly closed eyes.

"What? Girly, I don't hate you."

"You hate me!"

“Still not true.”

“Then why won’t you answer me!”

“’Cause you ain’t gimme the chance. We weren't lovers, we didn't kiss, we didn't do jack. She was... she was a friend."

"Yeah, right! How about you ppprove it!" she spits the word terribly, albeit accidentally, over his face. He does not react to it.

"'N how do you expect me to do that?"

Her eyes come to a squint. An obvious flame is burning inside her, one of many mashed emotions that cannot be properly or cohesively codified. Her form trembles before she grunts out her words. "You... you kiss me, and if it tastes like... MMmMoonlight! Then you're a... fuckiiing~... liar!"

"... You serious?"

"Dead! I'll know you're lying to me!"

"D-... Dahlia, do... do you even understand how fuckin' insane everythin' you just said is?"

"Hah! I knew you were lying!"

"I ain't lyin' to you! Moonlight 'n I ain't done nothin' together!"

"Oooonly oooone way to prove it, bucko!"

“Dahlia, this is—Mh!”

Before he could finish his protest, the little mare presses her lips a tad-bit aggressively against his. She quickly tilts her head to lock it in, where Crimson is still reeling from shock to understand the advance.

It feels like she leaves herself on him forever - so long that his eyes begin to close. Once they do, his head tilts opposite of Dahlia’s.

Her warmth. The slight tinge of fruity wine in her breath mixed with her natural scent. It feels unreal. Trying to interpret every single sensation at once puts his body on auto-pilot. He suckles her lower lip accidentally, or more appropriately, instinctually. “Hmmh~” she moans into his mouth.

And her eyes break open. The moan she emits seems to snap her back to reality, and she breaks off of him with a trail of saliva connecting them for a second. She blinks repeatedly and stares back at Crimson with a stressed, caught-in-the-act expression.

Crimson lines his lips and forces a slight smile to try and comfort her obvious anxiousness. It seems to be the right move as she smiles back, albeit more genuinely than him.

“Um,” Dahlia sorely begins, “… I’m sorry, Crim… I’m… really sorry…”

He shakes his head, still holding the smile. “Don’t be.”

“I am. I just… I don’t know what got into me. I’m a freak.”

“You’re not, Deedee, I’d—” He stops himself, thinking twice on his next words. “… I’d say somethin’, but… it’d probably make you upset.”

She tilts her slightly bobbing head at him, overrun with curiosity. “… Say it.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“I promise I won’t get mad.”

“You promise?”

“Promise.”

He glances away, his wry simper growing wider. “… No need fer a pretty gal like yerself to apologize fer somethin’ I rather enjoyed.”

She almost hiccups from the embarrassment, her face blushes bright pink. Emotions boil from zero to one hundred, but she manages to settle down quickly. Rather than bark something crude or inappropriate, she instead rolls her eyes against his words.

“Told you it was gonna be bad.”

“I’ll take your word for it next time.” She sighs out relief while letting her eyes fall to his chest, the place where she wishes nothing more but to rest her head. She does exactly this, setting herself back down onto him gently and staring off the side of the bed.

It is not long before her eyes close once more. Her breathing steadies from the heightened pace she had during their exchange. Crimson cannot seem to be able to remove his eyes from her, caught in a limbo of emotions… but it becomes clear to him what he is feeling. He understands what has happened, not with Dahlia, but with himself.

During his time spent in Equestria, he always saw the creatures of this world as simply that. Creatures. Non-humans that have similar intelligence or personality to humans. Internal traits aside, they are not the same species as him, no matter what they say or do. They are creatures that he does not find, or should not find, attractive in a non-platonic way. He always felt… strange about this topic. He had an opinion, one which he verbally shared with a few denizens of this land already, but he never felt it to be a solid one. As thick-headed as he is, his opinions always stand on nearly indestructible pillars which only few were toppled by presentations of fact or knowledge. This opinion, however, was supported on a pillar of salt.

He faces himself now to realize… that pillar has crumbled.

"… Crim?” Her slurred, meek voice calls to him.

“Mm?”

“… Do you like me, Crim?”

“Course I do.”

She shuffles slightly. “… I like you too, Crim~”

Again, silence brews around them. A warm, amber, comfortable silence that momentarily blocks out the troubles of the world outside. His mind begins to wander off, a yearning hope emerges. A hope that tomorrow will be a flawless excursion to finally put all of this stress and mayhem behind him. He yearns to return home to his sister, there is nothing more that he wants than to see her again.

Second to that, analyzing the plausibility of something he told Dahlia. If there was a way for him to get to Equestria, then…

“Hiluvyuh…”

His insides flutter at hearing her words, or what he understood them to be. It stops him completely, he completely forgets what his mind was just thinking about. The that simple phrase floats around his head, bouncing off the walls sporadically. A stray idea tells him to reply back, to speak up and acknowledge her.

“I—” He finds himself stopped when Dahlia releases a slow, deep breath, that which tells him she has already fallen asleep. “… Love you too,” he finishes to no one but himself. He puckers his mouth, irritated at himself for taking too long to say it back. Maybe it is better this way. If her sober self does not like her drunk self, or they have split personalities, he would have dug himself into a hole he could never crawl out of. Especially with a girl like Dahlia.

He hopes that she remembers tonight. It would be tragic if she did not. Or worse, she misremembers.

He holds onto his self-hatred but calms himself down enough to rest. He puts his hands around her back and holds her, letting his eyes come closed. The solace of sleep is quick and friendly to him tonight.

‎

~~~<

‎

The morning and afternoon were spent sleeping. Most of the evening was used for recovering, rehydrating, and avoiding conversation due to a pounding headache on Dahlia’s end. Now she and Crimson sit at the edge of the bed without saying a word. They have not said anything to each other nearly the entire evening. The man keeps his tired eyes on the clock, a water bottle in his left hand, and already dressed in the sleek sneaking attire provided by Kleid. Dahlia is staring at the ground, her own water bottle in between her legs.

"... You better now?" he asks without looking to her, breaking the silence that pressed over them quite harshly.

"... I guess. Headache's gone, at least."

"That's good. I know you ain't need me to tell you this, but... you drank a lot yesterday."

"... Yeah. Staying away from alcohol for a long time to come.”

"Prolly a good idea. ... You, uh... remember anythin' from last night?"

"... I'd rather not talk about it."

"Not sayin' we should, just wonderin' if you do."

“Why does that matter?”

“… Guess it doesn’t.”

Dahlia begins to squirm uncomfortably at his yielding disposition. The ensuing terse silence only makes her feel worse about being so confrontational. "Okay, yeah, I do,” she caves. “Happy now?" she turns to giving a biting stare.

"Thanks fer answering," he replies, still not looking to her.

Dahlia simmers down quickly as the guilt rises. She faces the floor in front of her again. "... I'm sorry."

"For?"

"For being a huge bitch to you. And especially dinner last night. I knew I shouldn’t have drank at all, but I just… I'm so embarrassed right now, I could kill myself."

"C’mon, Deedee, don’t feel bad fer nothin’. I had a good time last night, all with dinner, the show, and everythin' after. You ain't gotta apologize fer that."

"... Easy for you to say. You didn't make a total fucking fool of yourself… and you didn’t say anything you shouldn’t have said…"

"You ain't done nothin' wrong but let me inside yer mind. I know you've met plenny types that'd take advantage of you fer that, but I ain't. In fact, it made me happy you did."

She looks towards him again, and this time, he looks back to her. “… It made you happy?” she inquires timidly.

“Happier than I’ve been in… a good long while.”

"... If I didn't know you any better, I'd just call you a smooth-talking piece of shit and want nothing to do with you."

"But?" he presses with a growing smile.

"..." She looks away again, letting her ears drop to her head. "... But I know you're telling the truth. And... I appreciate that."

"Course, girly. I know you ain’t too keen on talkin’ about a few aspects of yesterday, so I ain’t gonna pry. But I can’t help but one thing, If you don’t mind my askin’.”

“What’s up?”

“How’d you get us into the show? Thought it was brimmed to the top."

“It was. Even I was surprised I found a way to get us in.”

“’N how’d you go about that?”

“Our good ‘ol friend Kleid. When I gave him the relic you nabbed the other night, I asked if he could help us out with getting in.”

Crimson chuckles lightly. “Well he did more than just help us out.” He says as he lifts up his left hand, where the red band still wraps around his wrist. Though now, it no longer glows.

“Heey, yeah, about that!” Crimson’s smile drops quickly when Dahlia’s tone sharpens. “Where’d you go last night? The show started and you just got up and left!”

“Yeah, it was-- … well, you remember them folks who were havin’ trouble gettin’ their bags backstage?” She nods, holding a questioning gaze. “Well, I… guess I felt bad fer ‘em. Helped ‘em out. Even got some money for it too,” he says as he reaches into the pocket where Yuvia slipped the coin purse into. He takes it out and presents it to her.

She seems mildly satisfied at seeing the baggie, but still has her left brow raised. “Well don’t do something like that ever again. You leaving really scared the shit out of me.”

“My apologies, girly. I won’t make it a habit. I was…” he fights his muse for a moment, debating whether to say it or not. With her curious eyes upon him, the last thing he could do is lie or brush her off. “… I was lookin’ at the human that was with them. She appreciated me helpin’ her out. You already know I wanna find out what happened to humankind here, so gettin’ to see her up close might’a been a way to get a wrap on the situation first-hand. I didn’t find out much, but… let’s just say this’s only made my drive that much stronger.” Dahlia listens intently, letting her eyes wander as she does. “… Heh, ‘n I suppose I couldn’t have done it if it weren’t fer Kleid.” His words cause her to look at him again and smile. “Fer a Horseshoe, he’s good company.”

“Hehe, that’s what I said~” Crimson smiles at her in return, but his eyes seem to drift on their own towards the clock. Dahlia follows his gaze, seeing the hands read roughly 11:25. Both of their smiles fade away. "... Almost time, huh?"

"... Reckon so."

"You gonna be okay sneaking into Moonlight's room?"

"Ready as I'll ever be. Kinda have an idea mapped out. Just hopin' it works and I get back here safe."

"That makes two of us, Crim."

The man brings his bottle to his lips, take three big swings to finish it off, sighs, and crumples the plastic bottle before setting it down on the bed. "Guess I should get goin'."

"Yeah. I'll get the projector ready."

Crimson nods and rises from the bed. Dahlia caps her bottle and sets it down on the sheets before she does the same, flying up to the second bunk to retrieve the device.

Hesitantly, the man takes slow steps to the ladder. He reaches his hands to clasp the cold metal bars which protrude from the concrete wall. He looks back towards the bunks, where Dahlia sits on the bottom bed and is already staring back at him. "... I'll be back soon," he says to comfort her.

"You better," she replies with apparent tension in her voice. Her ears then fall flat on her head before she speaks up again. “… This isn’t a good time to say this, but…” She feels a lump in her throat, which she tries with all her might to get rid of before stalling Crimson for too long. Her face takes on a pink blush as she steels herself. “I meant what I said last night… so please don’t screw this up.”

The man feels his own emotions frolicking. He smiles warmly to her. “… Even if I did. Nothin’ would stop me from comin’ back to you. I promise.”

Her ears meekly stand up again as she smiles back. She simply nods, taking his words into her heart.

With that, the man departs and exits the bunker.

Following the same process as the first time around, he escapes the waterfall and waits for the two guards to retreat for their lunch break. Once they leave, he dashes across the dewy grass and clambers up the tree as before. Penetrating the Castle from the window, he enters its vast, wide, echoing halls. He follows the same route as before, but rather than taking a left turn down the furthest hall towards the Labs, he instead takes a right turn towards the Eastern Tower.

Guards are near-effortlessly avoided, and with Dahlia jamming the wards, it is as trivial a task as ever. The path is continued, and within minutes, the residences which lie before the Eastern Tower are encountered. Unfortunately here, he has no pillars to hide behind, but the immense hundred-meter hall that spans the residences only has one guard. He double-takes, triple-takes even, and he confirms only one guard. Said guard is located at the very center of the hall and picks at the plumes of her helmet. Everypony peacefully sleeps in their rooms, the guard is keeping her bored self busy.

Crimson looks up at the moon shining colors weakly through the monumental stained glass windows. They are located so high up that there is plenty of dark shady wall under them where no light hits. The guardmare has her back towards the shade, but she is dangerously close to the wall. He has no alternative but to try to creep behind.

He stays slow and crouch-runs along the dark wall until he is roughly ten meters from the mare. He slows his roll until he reaches a steady prowl. He keeps his eyes intently on the mare, focused and dilated. Step by step, he nears her. Her trimmed tail is only about a foot away from the wall, he has very little room to squeeze behind her.

Only about a meter away from her now, the working space he has is starting to worry him. He does not think he will be able to get past her. He slowly cranes his head back, debating turning around and heading a different route.

Fat chance. He did not memorize the patterns from the guards on the other floors, neither did Magnifying's vision follow that path.

He curses in his mind. He could try knocking her out and putting her somewhere safe, but he recalls Kleid's strict instruction. Without much else to work with, he steels his nerves and slowly stands up to his full height, getting his back against the wall.

He slowly, every so slowly, tippy-toes sideways to get directly behind the guard. He grits his teeth - but a molecule of space is left between his knees and the mare's tail tip.

"Huh," the mare huffs. Crimson's blood freezes. "Huh?" she turns her head to the left, eyes dilated to grains of sand. Crimson trembles. The mare keeps her head turned this way.

…

"Ha-choo!" The mare hops, her helmet jumps off her head and drops onto the marble ground, making quite a ruckus when the golden metal hits the ground. "Hugh, damn it!" she whisper-shouts, stepping forward to pick it up.

Crimson's body moves before his mind does, nearly stumbling over himself to come down and crouch-sprint the fuck away from the guard.

The guard gets her helmet and turns around to reposition herself against the wall, finding...

... nothing out of the ordinary. She hopes she did not disturb any sleeping ponies with her mishap.

Feeling his heart in his throat, he exhales his relief once he makes it to the staircase of the Eastern Tower. His objective is close now, just one floor down. He knows he cannot just waltz up to her door, the two guards that protect it are still planted, and have been ever since the retraining order was placed against him. Fortunately, there is still a way in.

Instead of taking the staircase of the Eastern Tower down to her room, he spots a window frame which actually has no glass on it - just an open exposure that looks like a window. It is a decent leap up, but nothing he cannot handle. He glances around quickly to ensure no one can hear or see him, then he crouches down to wind himself up. With gritted teeth, he springs up and vaults right through the open window frame, spinning one-eighty to hang himself off the sill. He looks down, seeing the Gardens well below. He sees the patrol has returned from lunch and is posted again, but they are oblivious to his high-up climbing. He hardly believes thirty minutes are already up. Though it stresses him, he knows it would not serve him well to worry about it for now.

He sees a white marble ledge less than a foot below him, the very one he was expecting. He lets go of the sill and meekly drops the tiny distance. He sticks his chest to the walls of the Castle's exterior and begins to shimmy towards the west face of the Tower.

Carefully and expertly, he makes it around the exterior length of the Tower, and none of the bored guards below have bothered to look up. He eventually makes it to a dome-like protrusion made of many separate panes of glass, one that looks right into the Head Researcher's room.

Crimson swallows a rock and crouches low again, ensuring that he does not cast a shadow into her room. He expects her to be asleep, but finds himself surprised when lights inside her room as still on. While strange, at least he does not need to worry about the moon casting his shadow inside.

He peeks in from the edge of the window dome, seeing the large telescope staring up at him directly. He also has an unobstructed view of her bedroom, which she is not located at. He cannot see her from this angle, but he assumes she is at one of the lab tables below.

He looks down at the windows now, trying to find some sort of latch or method of opening. He finds himself out of luck. There is nothing present to get these windows opened. He lines his lips in thought, wondering if there is any other way except breaking them to get in.

...

He sighs his thwarting. He really only has one option. With excessive caution, he places his right palm onto the pane of glass that faces him the closest and applies pressure. It starts gentle but steadily increases in force. Before long, the glass croaks its complaint and cracks, progressively cracking further as he keeps pushing in. He stops once the glass looks like a spider web. He sticks his finger into one of the patterns of the crack, pushing it right through to make a little hole. He proceeds to carefully pick off glass from this hole and set it aside so it does not fall into her room.

It takes several minutes, but he is successful at taking off all the glass to one of the many panes that makes the dome. The pane is just big enough for him to slip through. He turns around and comes down onto his belly, letting his feet slip in first before the rest of his body. With absolute caution, he lets his body hang as he uses his hands to remain latched. He looks for a good spot to drop, where any would be fine for him, but would make too much noise.

Now that he is actually inside her room, he hears conversation - it briefly interrupts his track of mind. It sounds like... Magnifying. Not that he is surprised. Both he and Moonlight share in discourse, he cannot understand what they are talking about from this height.

... Moonlight's voice. How long has it been since he has heard it with his own ears.

He snaps himself out of his distraction. He looks around again for a suitable landing spot. He thinks perhaps the massive telescope might be good. It looks heavy as shit and practically immovable. He could land on the face that looks up at him perfectly without making nearly the same amount of noise compared to plummeting all the way to the bedroom. He thinks he could also use it to run up and jump from to get back onto this ledge. A feat of acrobatics that may be tricky to pull off depending if this telescope can handle it.

It is all he has to work with now. Taking a leap of faith, he swings his body and lets go of the ledge to fall down onto the telescope's head.

Ccrk! "HAhahahaha!"

His eyes protrude from his head. He looks down quickly at his landing, understanding what the mild cracking sound was. Luckily, the telescope is indeed beefy enough to tank his landing without even an inch of movement, but the glass ocular he landed on cracked. Fortunately for him, it was just that - a crack, nothing major. The sound of the crack was also drowned out by a well-timed laugh coming from Magnifying. He swallows the metal taste in his mouth and quickly comes off the telescope to land on the second floor balcony to Moonlight's room.

Now that he is this close, he can hear their conversation clearly. He assumes they are at the usual lab table below, possibly partaking in dessert as something smells warm and sweet. He creeps along the carpet of Moonlight's bedroom, peering off the railings of the balcony to get a look at the first floor.

He was right, they are indeed at the usual table and are eating something that looks like chocolate cookie cakes. Strangely, they are dressed in nice attire - Moonlight in a simple black dress that compliments her eyes, and Magnifying in a white tux. Trying to ignore them, he looks to the right, and there he sees it - the belt, the one propped up and presented like a trophy. At this point, he just needs to wait for a good opportunity to snatch it. They will surely spot him if he tries to go after it now.

‎
‎

‎ ‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Hidden Horseshoe Enclosure ~<
‎ April 8th, Saturday, 11:30

‎ ‎ ‎

Dahlia's peeled eyes bounce across the hologram of the throw-projector. She sits on the first bunk, her hooves tap the buttons rapidly, the magical machine swapping between each ward and freezing them as Crimson comes into view.

Her precise and almost perfect timing allow maybe a spec of the man to appear before she forces the ward's feedback to stop - whoever is monitoring the wards inside the Castle could not be the wiser. She ensures to keep them frozen for long enough for her partner to get through, still being able to view real-time feedback from the ward after intercepting it.

Dahlia's stress eases at watching him make great progress. Although apprehensive, his proficiency reminds her that he lived at the Castle for some time, so he is familiar with its halls. She cannot help be impressed by watching it him in action.

She enters a panic when Crimson gets caught with the guard at the residences, tensing and shuffling on the bed all the while. She catches the guard mare sneezing, Crimson bolting through, and both parties continuing their paths without alarm. Once the man jumps through the window of the Eastern Tower, she sighs deep relief.

The easiness does not last long. As a measure to respect Moonlight's privacy, there are no wards in her room. At this point, Crimson is going solo, and she could not be more worried. She slumps back and shifts over to her side, laying on the bed and tensely awaiting for him to appear back on any of the nearby wards.

‎

‎ ‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Moonlight's Room ~<
‎ April 9th, Sunday, 00:03

‎ ‎ ‎
‎
‎
"And I couldn't be happier!" Moonlight exclaims excitedly. "I really hope I'm able to get the release papers for her soon."

"Seeing you happy makes me happy, Moonlight," Magnifying relishes. "I know everything will go through perfectly, and soon, you'll get Furi into a much better home!"

"Thank you, Magnifying. That really does mean a lot. I just... I know I'm not her mother, and I really wish she had family I could return her to, but... she told me she's happy with her 'auntie.'"

"The simple fact she calls you auntie is so adorable! She's the sweetest little thing."

"Ooh, she iiiis!~" Moonlight holds her chest with her hooves. "The only thing I worry about is teaching her how to fly. I'm really going to have to get some books on basic flying and maneuvering. I think we have some in the Castle library."

"I'm sure we do! As a matter of fact, I have an elementary flyer's book I could give to you. I-I had a feeling you would want to teach her how to fly, so I picked it up ahead of time."

Moonlight gasps lightly. "Magnifying, that's so sweet of you! You really didn't have to, t-the library..."

The stallion throws his hoof, "D'aw, don't worry yourself, dear. I wanted to get you something that would help."

Moonlight shifts in her seat excitedly. "Thank you, thank you! I can't wait to read through it with her and give her lessons! Hopefully she'll learn everything just as well as if a pegasus were teaching her." As if a venomous thought seeped into her joy, her elation begins to visibly deflate. "... But... what if she doesn't?"

"No, dear, please. Don't think like that. I'm sure she'll learn like an expert! She's super smart!"

"I-I know she is, but... what if I can't teach her? What if I'm the reason she can't learn? M-Maybe I can take her to flying school? Ooh, but she hates flying instructors. She's already tried before. What am I going to do if she doesn't learn?"

Magnifying reaches his hooves out in her general direction to calm her. "Moonlight, please. You're overthinking this. She still has so much time to learn, she's only a foal! You'll teach her up from the ground, and she'll be the best flier Equestria has ever seen!"

"... Thank you, Magnifying," she replies to his encouragement, putting up a weak smile. "I-I'm not very confident in my abilities, but..."

As she trails off, not finishing her thought, Magnifying regresses into his mind as well. He knows what he wants to say, he hypes himself up for what is to come. His muse reaches around his resolve to aid him in this proposition...

‎
‎

‎
‎

He looks at the reflection of himself in the restroom mirror, getting one last glob of hair gel into his light sky-blue hair. His tongue sticks from his mouth as he lathers the goopy substance on, ensuring it spreads evenly as to not cause awkward clumps of mane.

He straightens up and looks at himself again. He admires his spiffy white tux, the one he worked the Castle laundromat tooth and nail to clean after he spilled soup onto it one fateful night. It cost him more time and money than he would like to admit, but he believes it is worth restoring his favorite outfit to its former glory.

He looks presentable and he feels ready - today is the day. Today is the day that he sets out his heart and cards. The date with Moonlight is soon to come, a fancy restaurant he booked for the both of them to enjoy a break from the monotony of each day. Nothing has happened for some time, no new assignments have come about, so what better way to take the free time than to go out and eat?

He has it all mapped out. Tonight should be perfect. With a satisfied smile to himself, Magnifying exits the restroom and steps out to the living quarters of his room in the second floor of the Western Tower. His modest residence is only one bedroom, one bathroom, a living room and kitchen, but he is happy with it.

He is even happier with the countless prints, drawings, and photographs of a certain easy-blue unicorn mare placed all around his home. Moonlight Wish literally encompasses the entire living room with her face in these presentations, and Magnifying ensures to smile, blow kisses, and wink at every single one.

He trots to his kitchen, located to the right of the bathroom, and moves to some cupboards next to the fridge to retrieve mints housed in a small tin metal box. He pops two in his mouth and swishes them around. After, he returns to the living room and heads to the door. Rather than exit, he stops and takes a step left, towards a hung picture-frame that holds a photograph of him and Moonlight ‘together,’ smiling for their individual scribe initiations from years ago. The picture had a few other scribes as well, but he had cut them out and enhanced just their section so they could be smiling together.

"Tonight's the big night, dear. Nothing will go wrong." He channels his magic through his horn, getting a drawer next to him opened and taking out two rings. He looks at the first ring, a beautiful platinum ring that holds a cut rose quartz in it, nearly the same color as Moonlight's eyes. He pockets this ring in his right tux pocket before holding the next ring up to his face. A plain silver ring. "Nothing will go wrong... I'll make sure of it." He stows this ring next, tucking it into his left tux pocket.

Ripe and ready to go, he lets out a tense exhale and opens his door, heading to Moonlight. He maneuvers through the Castle until he stops at the regal cobalt doors which two stallions are posted before. Magnifying’s small smile melts for a frown and tense brows. His magic aggressively channels to grab both guards by their collars and drag them closer so his head is between theirs.

“Whatever you do,” Magnifying begins with a low growl, “you do NOT open that door. I don’t care WHAT you hear, you stay put unless I call ‘guards.’ Is that understood?”

Fearful and near trembling, both guards swallow and nod repeatedly.

The simper from before returns to his lips at their acknowledgement. He lets them go and allows them to adjust their helmets.

“The time… is now.” He lifts his hoof to knock.

‎
‎ ‎

~~~<

‎ ‎

"Hohoho! Yes, yes! That happens after the Marrow Betwixt!" Moonlight happily exclaims over her plate of exquisite greens.

The air of this hyper-fancy restaurant had intimidated the mare at first, but after kindling a conversation about one of her favorite books, she has the glee and energy he had hoped for. Magnifying admires her in the simple black dress she picked, it fits over her delicate yet filled form so well it is driving him mad. The easy black eyeliner she has gives her face such a new energy, especially from a mare who never wears makeup.

"Aah, right! I thought chapter fourteen was the Marrow, but that's fifteen! Fourteen has the--"

"Frost sirens!" "Frost sirens!"

"Oooo, I love that part so much!" Moonlight vibrates in her seat.

"Hoh, yes, it was so tense! If it were any more thrilling, the bite marks on my left hoof would have scarred!"

Moonlight puts her hoof over her mouth to hide her laughter. "Goodness, yes! The left corner of my bottom lip was the bystander caught in the chaos of reading that chapter. I thought the bites would never heal!"

"Wow, I think I remember that! The bites on your lips! Weren't we preparing a spell for the centrifuge at the lab?"

Moonlight holds her cheek, gasping in remembrance. "We were! Swirl was sick that day, all the noise it was making made her so angry!"

They share in laughter at the yellow mare's expense. "Angry is definitely an understatement!"

She looks so happy. Moonlight is genuinely enjoying her time. That is exactly what he wants, it is making him ecstatic seeing her like this. It is perfect, it is setting the mood so perfectly. He will pick up the tab and they can return to the comfort of her room...

... then, it is time.
‎

‎
‎

"... Thank you, Magnifying," she replies to his encouragement, putting up a weak smile. "I-I'm not very confident in my abilities, but..."

"... But I am, dear," he speaks up with determination. "Moonlight, I know it's late, but... I want you to know that... you're not in this alone." Magnifying comes off his stool and comes around the table, standing besides Moonlight. He reaches out and puts his hoof to her side where her cutie mark lies, gently caressing her through her dress. "... I'll be by your side every step of the way. A-And... for Furi's sake, I not only hope she has an auntie to guide her..." Moonlight's wary expression begins to lighten with realization to his words. "... I hope she has an uncle too." The mare's face blushes deep cherry red. "M-Moonlight..."

"... Y-Yes... M-Magnifying?" she stutters terribly, almost unable to breath from anticipation of what's to come.

"... M-Moonlight, I love you so much, that I... I... I couldn't bare the thought of seeing you with somepony else. I-I lost you once... when Crescent wrongfully took you. That... horrible excuse for a stallion treated you, the most wonderful, gorgeous mare in Equus, so badly... I-I... wanted to kill him."

Moonlight's mouth falls and her eyes widen in shock.

"T-Then, when he was prosecuted and you left Canterlot, I lost you again. Y-You were gone for six years! My heart ached every day that you were gone, and I so badly hoped that you would return..." He briefly stares off into the distance, recollecting the emptiness he felt during that time. "Moonlight, I-I've told you this before, but... when I found out you came back, I... I couldn't contain my joy. I-I actually cried that night! The love of my life returned, and I could finally express my love to her as I've failed to do in the past!"

Moonlight has plummeted so deep into astonishment that her attempt to speak up to him results in nothing but her lower lip quivering.

"M-Moonlight, I'm sorry this is coming out so suddenly, b-but seeing you, and seeing Furi... you would make out to be such a beautiful mother, a-and I would give everything to provide the family you always wanted."

Her irises begin to tremble.

"Moonlight..." His horn begins to glow light teal, and out of his right tuxedo pocket levitates a platinum ring encrusted with a pink quartz crystal. While still holding her side, he comes down to his haunches, craning his neck upwards the stare into her unsteady orbs. "Moonlight, w-will... will you marry me?"

The question drives a thin wire right through her heart, cutting it cleanly in half. Her breath catches in her throat, and she begins to cough. Her fit puts Magnifying in a state of utter panic.

"M-Moonlight, dear! P-Please, breath!" He sets the ring down on the table and stands back up, helping Moonlight straighten her back. She continues to cough terribly until the spit she swallowed finally escapes her windpipe.

"Ahck, hk!" Moonlight croaks, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes - tears built up for more than one reason. She repeatedly takes deep breaths, composing herself as much as she can in this situation. "M-Magnifying, I-I..." The stallion's shimmering eyes stare intently at her, two bottomless wells of hope and desperation. "Mag... Magnifying..." The tears she wipes are no longer from the coughing fit, the stallion notes this very clearly. "... I-I'm..." He leans closer to her, almost to the point of toppling her over. "... I-'m so sorry..."

The stallion's left eye twitches.

"I-I'm... I'm so sorry, I... I can't..."

Again, his left eye twitches repeatedly. He slowly backs away from the emotional mare, glaring needles at her in disbelief. "... Y-You... you can't?" She waves her head left and right, still rubbing her eyes. "... You... can't. And... you're sorry?" She nods her head repeatedly. "... You can't... and... you're... sorry..."

"I-I'm s-so v-v-very s-sorry, Ma-Magnifying..."

"... Why?" he asks coldly and flatly.

This simple yet concerning question causes Moonlight to look up at him, her reddened eyes still streaming tears. "... Wu-Wh-Why?"

"Yes, Moonlight... why?"

"… Magnifying...?" she questions with stupor. She understands him, but...

"The question is simple, dear... why? Why do you turn me away?"

Her saddened emotion begins to meld into something more akin to... fear. She begins to sober up quickly at the rate of her heart increasing. "I-I..."

"Does your heart belong to another? Hm?"

Moonlight is completely thunderstruck at his disposition now - firm, oppressive, and terrifying.

"Could I... Could I never win over your love? Despite my best efforts? Moonlight, I... I've learned everything I could about you, found out what things you enjoy and the things you don't just so I could... so I could be compatible with you. You're the most gorgeous mare I've ever seen, and easily the smartest as well, yet... you could not recognize that I was doing everything in my power to be the perfect partner for you."

"... M-Magnifying, w-what are you saying?"

"Tell me. Does your heart belong to another? Does it... perhaps... belong to a being that is not of our species?"

"W-Wha..." She shakes in her fright, trying at the resolute piece of her soul to speak up. "Why are you acting like this, Magnifying? W-What are you trying to say?"

"Please. Please answer me. They are very simple questions, and I humbly request an answer."

"B-But, w-who would muh-my heart belong to?"

"You should know, Moonlight."

She racks her brain for an answer that may satisfy this unhinging stallion. "Nn-- Nn-- Nopony..."

Magnifying's languid stare falls to the ground, seeming highly disappointed. "... Why do you lie to me, Moonlight? Why do you treat me as you would an insolent colt?"

"I-I... I would never--!"

"Moonlight, I'll give you another chance... please..." The horrified mare darts her pink eyes left and right, trying to find the rhyme or reason as to why she is in this situation to begin with. "You rejected me... and I understand. Perhaps... perhaps I am not your type, despite us having a great friendship. But under the circumstances, I find it very hard to believe it simply ends there. Who does your heart belong to?"

She wants to cry again. She feels her stress and anxiety about to overflow. She clenches her eyes tightly, before opening them and calling brokenly. "N-No! Nopony!"

Magnifying stares at her, almost savoring how her composure falls apart and wrecks all over the ground. "... You lied to me again, Moonlight. You can't hide the truth from me. Your heart..." he looks away, feeling a bitter stake ram into his chest, "... belongs to Crimson." Moonlight shudders at the emphasized name being spoken, goosebumps dance across her coat. Magnifying proceeds to chuckle at her reaction. "See? It's so obvious that it's repulsive. For a reason I cannot comprehend, your love for that human has completely annulled any sense of progress you gained from your relationship with Crescent Cool. He does not care about you, Moonlight. He would rather jump into the jaws of death than care for your feelings. What happened to that conviction you felt during your signing of the restraining order? How you told Celestia that she was right in removing him from Consortium business? Does your health not matter to you anymore? Is your obsession with that human greater than your sense of self-preservation?"

All the words he speaks ride into Moonlight's mind like electric shocks. It is too much for her to process, too much for her breaking heart to handle. "W-Why are you saying these things, Magnifying? W-Why are you acting like this? Y-You're... you're so kind to me, I-I thought y-you... u-understood me..."

"But I do! My love, I am the ONLY pony who understands you! I made it my life goal to ensure this fact! Please! Please, Moonlight! I can still be yours! I can still be yours, please! It's not too late!"

"I-I can't, Magnifying... I can't... I-I don't... I have..." she tries to push the words through her tightening throat, "... I have tried... to let myself l-love you... b-but I can't! I don't know why! I've tried so hard! All the sweet little things you do, it-it's..."

The stallion gives her dilating eyes, nodding twice. "... Finish your thought."

"I-It's... c... c..."

“… Go on…”

She trembles, nearly bursting. "Creepy! It’s creepy! So many things you've done or said are sometimes too much! I-I can't handle it, I'm... I don't know what's wrong with me! You’re so nice! But I’m just so terrible, and I just... I... I had..."

"... Go ahead," the stallion calmly states with a smile. "Say it. Say what you need to say."

"... I've had..." She feels she will regret speaking her mind, but his coaxing and her shambled aplomb drive her to do as he says. "... I've had a... b-bad feeling about you..."

The stallions smile grows much wider, borderline deranged. "Why's that?"

"I-I don't know! I really don't know!"

"Just a hunch, maybe?"

The mare nods as tears run down her cheeks again, putting her hooves over her eyes to hide the shame she feels at being terrible and judgmental.

"Don't cry, Moonlight. There's no need to. Because, eheh, you're right! You're actually very, very right!" The sniffling mare looks up to him, confounded. "Haha! I don't know how you and Furi did it, but you're right! Maybe because you're actually intelligent, unlike the rest of the stone-biting morons in the Consortium. Especially Celestia. What a stupid bitch."

Moonlight gasps, hearing him swear for the first time in her life.

"Pat yourself in the back, Moonlight... you may have not known what I am, but your hunch carried you a long way. I didn't want to resort to this, but... I won't let you belong to somepony else. I want you to be mine, and I'm sure the Family would accommodate me."

Her mortification sets in. "W-Wha... Mag... nify...?"

Magnifying sees her realization clears as day, and it gives him the utmost satisfaction. "You might have guessed it by now. My Family… is the Black Horseshoes. And, um... in case you didn't know, roughly eighty-nine percent of the Consortium staff bows down to their hoof. They are nothing but puppets that keep the public eye satisfied. And the fact that Celestia thought she could break away is... charming, at best. But, she's coming around. I've seen it."

Overwhelmed with information and emotion, Moonlight thinks but to do one thing... "... I-I... I don't..." she wipes her eyes from her tears, trying to find the kindling of fight inside her spirit. "... I don't... love you, Magnifying. You just can't... force me to be yours."

The stallion grins hysterically. "... Watch me."

At the threat, Moonlight channels her magic with the puffing of her cheeks. She casts her translocation spell in order to--

"No you don't!"

Moonlight feels her spell ride back into her head and stun her when a small silver ring levitates out of Magnifying's left tux pocket and slips right onto her horn. The nullifying ring prevents the spell from completing and further disrupts any casting. This discombobulation has Moonlight reeling in pain and falling off her stool. She hits the ground with a soft thud and her dress causes her great trouble to try to stand back up.

The stallion menacingly walks towards the grounded mare, grinning down at her with malintent. "Ooh, Moonlight. I never wanted it to come to this... but... I couldn't let you escape me a third time. I was patient. I did everything the Family told me to. I put in the effort to make you happy... I should be rewarded for that."

The fumbling mare gawks up to her oppressor in absolute horror. "P-Please, Magnifying! Please don't do this! I-I'm sorry! I-I'm so sorry!"

"There's no need to be sorry, dear. While this was the worst outcome, I still hold everything I said to heart. I will give you the best, most loving family you could ever hope for. I know you wanted to wait until marriage, so..." he lifts his chin to the ring that fixes itself onto her horn. "A little unconventional, but it works, right? Let us skip right into the honeymoon. Our children will be beautiful~"

"G-Guahahahards!" she desperately cries into the air. She knows there are two guards on the other side of her door, and there has been more than plenty of noise for them to hear, yet... they do not come to her aid. Her bloodshot eyes turn from the unanswered door to the stallion who-- "No! No! Nononono!" she begs, crawling backwards and away from the stallion who approaches her with a growing erection.

Magnifying throws himself on top of the sobbing mare, pinning her effortlessly. It almost seems like she is not fighting back. He takes this to his advantage to act slow and romantic - he channels his magic to take the end of her dress. "You are so beautiful, Moonlight, it is so unfair. How could one mare be so perfect?" His desire rises when he begins to pull up her dress, exposing her tummy and lower body. Her sobs worsen, yet she no longer cries for help.

He takes a leaning glance down, trying to get a better view below the belt. Her tail still hides her innocence. That pure, delicious, decadent part of her that he has spent many a wet-dream and night of self-pleasure to. He feels like he is going to explode at just the sight of it. His magic envelops her tail and gently moves it out of the way...

The stallion gasps, his member twitches repeatedly. There it is. It is more perfect and beautiful that he ever imagined. Nothing could compare to this moment. Every lonely night he spent, every second of heartache, every tear he shed... the shattering of his already weak mental health. He is now broken, but now he finally reaps his reward.

He aims himself to fulfill his life-long Wish.

...

GRASP! "GhRoAh-AAAH!"

Something hard and rough grasps the back of his head, something even Moonlight did not see come down. The howl of pain coming from the offending stallion causes the weeping mare to crack one eye open and look towards him. Both eyes break open at seeing what it is. A towering human grasps the back of Magnifying's head from his mane, leaving the stallion to kick around and flail in pain.

Magnifying's eyes begin to tear from the searing anguish of his mane being pulled. He tries his best to direct his staggering gaze to the assaulter. He sees who they are, barely, from his peripheral. "HaAAGH!" Realization sets in. A descript man who wears all black and lets his hair shade over his face. A golden glow emanates from under, coming from the eyes. Fear overcomes Magnifying immediately. He sees through the disguise without a second glance. "CRIM-- SAAGH!"

The stallion begins to channel his magic in an attempt to grasp the man's neck with it. The seething angel reaches his free hand to his horn, grasping it, and crushing it into chunks with a mighty closing of his fist. "GYAHEEHAHAAAA!" Blood squirts from the marrow in his horn, coating the man's fist. A scream of terror rings out from Moonlight as well. "AHA! AHAHAHAHAAA!" Tears flow down the stallions cheeks. Each droplet barely functions to soothe the hate in Crimson's heart. "Y-YOU F-FUCKING! HRH, B-BASTARD!"

Crimson turns the bawling stallion to face him, still suspending him from his mane. His glowing golden eyes glare death into Magnifying. "You..." the man starts, growling into the stallion's face, "... You're one... sad... pathetic waste of life."

"FAAHAAACK!"

"A cretin. A lyin' sack of dogshit. I’ll be givin’ you three chances to tell her yer sorry. Least you can do before you die."

“Haaa-aaahh, aaah…” His eyes go crossed from the pain of his broken horn.

The man shakes him, forcing him to come back to reality while further pulling his mane. “Well, boy? Say somethin’.”

"HRAH!” His sand-grains for eyes dart around and he begins to flail again. “F-FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU, YOU STUPID FUCKING APE! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU! I HATE YOU! MMRRAAH-- MOONLIGHT IS MINE! SHE'S MINE! SHE'S MINE! SHE'SMINE,SHE'SMINE,SHE'SMINE,SHE'SMINE!"

Crimson glares at the tantrum before him, enjoying every second of his squirming. "Haven't you figured it out? She ain't into varmin’. Moonlight..." he leans closer to the stallion's ear, "... doesn't like you."

"HAAHAAAAA! SHE FUCKING LOVES ME! SHE LOVES ME! AHAHAHAAA!"

The demon which this man has become turns a hellish gaze to the distraught mare on the ground. "That true?" She vibrates in fear at his voice.

The fear-paralyzed Moonlight cannot respond verbally, barely able to shake her head once to deny the claim.

Crimson faces the snotting, crying stallion again. "That's one, Magnifyin'. Two chances left to apologize."

"FUCK YOU! I ALWAYS HATED YOU! THE FIRST DAY SHOWED UP! THE FIRST FUCKING DAY! YOU RUINED IT! RUINED EVERYTHIIIING!"

A grin forms upon his lips. “That's two, Glassy-boy. You wanna burn in hell fer eternity knowin’ you couldn’t even make amends?"

"FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU!"

"Great talk."

"YOU'LL NEVER HAVE HER! YOU'LL ALWAYS BE THE STUPID MONKEY SLAVED IN A COLLAR! FOR THE REST OF YOUR PATHETIC FUCKING LIFE! THE REST OF YOUR PATHIC LIFE! GUARDS! GUAAAARRDS GUAAA---"

He interrupts the crying pleas of the stallion by pulling him close, his face but a centimeter away from his. He glares fire into his tearing, blood-shot eyes. "You’ll die like you lived. A cryin’ bitch."

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Crimson twirls the laughing lunatic in a cartwheeling motion before tossing him up into the air a few feet. As the stallion spins up and then back down, his horn spurting blood in a circle--

BrCRAKCK!

-- a fist catches the stallion mid fall on his temple. His skull shatters into pieces, his jaw dislocates and breaks, his brain churns to mush, his left eyeball shoots out of his head, blood jets out of his mouth and his right ear. Magnifying's entire body whirls into an even wilder spin, crashing into the beakers and glassware of the lab table he is sent into. His corpse skips over the table and hits the next table over, his momentum comes to a halt at hitting the marble base of it. He is already dead before his ragdoll-ing ends.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Moonlight shrieks in horror at witnessing the murder of a pony for the first time in her life. She and the shade make harrowing eye contact. She sees them, the glittering gold that radiates from under jet-black hair - a beautifully hollowed dance of light. Even though the truth is now hers, all she sees is the face of a stranger.

BAM!

The doors to Moonlight's room are violently kicked open, and in come the two guards who finally responded to the screaming call of the dead stallion. They inhale at what they see - an eviscerated Magnifying, and a figment wearing pure black who stands over the crying Head Researcher. They stagger in their stupefaction. They turn in fear and run back into the grand halls. Both of them retrieve the horns that are sat at their belts and spittle and spit to blow on them as hard as possible.

PwooOOOOOOOO!

The horns are so obnoxiously, damn-near startlingly loud, it makes Crimson jump in fright briefly. The pen pricks that are his eyes dart towards the relic. He dashes towards it as quickly as he can, but he finds himself being surrounded within moments when mages from all over the Castle blink into Moonlight's room. The situation is assessed immediately, the culprit is eyed. Magic is channeled by many horns at once, the man finds himself crushed by the force of over twenty mages grasping him with their ethereal hands. He falls to his knees, clenching his jaw furiously. Try as he might, the culmination of this much power is forcing him down. "Rr-RRAAAH!" The man shouts against his toil. He begins to rise to his feet. The mages gasp in fear. Each one of them try even harder to suppress the target. The battle of wits becomes an egregious stalemate.

Moonlight watches Crimson struggle against the entire Mageguild. She wants to cry out, she wants to put some sort of stop to this, but her broken self cannot even muster the strength to speak. She cannot lift herself off the ground, so she remains rested in the same place Magnifying left her.

As Crimson fights to stay on his feet, he sees another unicorn blink in at the corner of his vision right next to Moonlight. He cannot see who they are or what they wear, but he sees them channeling yellow magic. He is unable to combat the spell shot at him, the one that envelops him until he is a silhouette of magic before it teleports him away.

Moonlight watches him disappear from her room. She cannot stop relinquishing tears, barely strong enough to brokenly whisper one word.

"... Crim... son..."

‎
‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Hidden Horseshoe Enclosure ~<
‎ April 9th, Sunday, 00:19

‎
‎ ‎

Beady little black eyes stare back at her, expressionless. It weirded her out at first, but now that she has held onto it for longer, she thinks she kind of likes it. A meek smile even puts itself up on Dahlia's lips as she stares at the little red bunny she picked out of Crimson's duster.

She lays on her back at the bottom bunk with the throw-projector near her hindlegs, entertaining herself with what she can to stave away the anxiousness. He has not appeared in the wards for a moment now, she assumes he is biding his time. It is the smart play, even if waiting around proves to be more difficult than she anticipated.

She tosses the bunny up a few times, catching it over and over.

PwooOOOOOOOO!

Something offensively loud blasts off, drowning even the waterfall and penetrating the bunker. Dahlia jolts in fright, dropping the bunny on her face, her eyes dilating quickly as she sits up. Her first instinct it to rapidly press the 'next' button on the throw-projector, skipping between every single ward in the Castle with reckless haste.

A dry gasp comes from her mouth. "... No..." She sees tens over tens of guards dash from all parts of the Castle to the Eastern Tower. Mages are seen obtaining scrolls, using them to teleport, heading to the same destination. "No! Nonononononono! Crimson, no! What the fuck did you do!?"

Her jaw pops from clenching her teeth so tightly, powerless, able only to witness the entire Guard storm into Moonlight's room. A churning pit swallows her stomach...

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Dungeon ~<
April 9th, Sunday, 00:22

‎ ‎

His surroundings frantically meld to blackened stone, brick, and metal bars. Before he is able to acclimate to this new, cold environment, he is immediately kicked behind his knees to fall forward. Magic encases his body again and he is restrained.

Orientated on his knees, Crimson darts his glare around at over ten unicorns all wearing robes channeling their magic to keep his body immobile while two stallions in golden armor physically hold him down from behind. He sees he is inside a huge spiraling structure that seems to have stairs which climb up and down infinitely, where the walls are lined with medieval prison cells. He finds himself directly in front of one of the cells, his back facing the heavy iron-bar door.

He grits his teeth and grunts, trying to get himself off the ground against their collective grasp. The guards and mages remain steadfast as they wait for something to happen, letting his struggles echo throughout the vast Canterlot Dungeon.

After an uncounted few minutes, the dark ambience is suddenly brightened with yellow magic, enough to briefly stun anyone who directly stared at the center point of it. Crimson turns his eyes away and closes them, letting them recover from the flash. Once he is able to look back the being who teleported in, he is able to piece together that it was the same unicorn who teleported him here to begin with.

The figure is shrouded in robes just as the other mages are, but these robes are not as over-decorated as the mages’, these are much simpler and utilitarian. They look exactly just like—

“Under the ruling of the two princesses, condoned by the Consortium,” this female unicorn begins with determination, “the staunch protectors of Canterlot are obligated to inform you that the right to freedom you once possessed is now revoked. There is no discrimination between race or species, the level of punishment is determined by your actions.”

She speaks to him as if she knew he was intelligent – though it seems more like a generic speech than anything else. Still, Crimson hardly listens to the words, rather than the voice which speaks them. His chest progressively becomes weighted as the spiel continues.

“By court of law, a strong dispel will be cast upon your body to prevent use of magics in any way, shape, or form. This binding will be lifted once you are pardoned or bonded, or at the termination of your sentence. We will ask you only once that you brace yourself.”

The shrouded mare removes her hood, solidifying what he already felt coming. Swirly Cutie approaches him, glaring down at him with utter disdain as her horn begins to glow with her yellow aura. She bows her horn towards him, nearly standing leveled to each other from his kneeling position. Her horn stops an inch from his forehead. The magic literally swirls up the creases of her horn all the way to the tip, it fires out onto him. It does not cause him any apparent pain or discomfort.

Crimson feels the magic tickle his entire body, riding through him like breeze of wind. While it is not painful, he does develop a strange sensation akin to tickling at his scalp. The magic shot at him concentrates on his hair, which confuses not only Swirl, but the guards around. The man hardly realizes what is happening to him until a reeling, collective ‘GASP!’ comes from everyone.

Crimson sees it – the magic travels across his hair and eats away at the black dye that coated it, revealing his deep red hair. The thick strands of hair in front of his face shift in color before his eyes.

Silence imbibes the dungeon for… too long. It is shattered like fine china hitting the ground when Swirl speaks with her wavering voice, “… C… Crimson?" The man lifts his eyes to her. She spots the dilated hazel orbs behind the scraggle.

Murmurs and whispers come from the mages and guards, many scatted “the angel?” and “it cannot be” ring in his ears again and again. Everyone looks completely dumbfounded. What was once a standard incarceration has now turned to confusion.

The situation is further discombobulated when the man and the prison door behind him are grasped by yellow magic – an aura that does not belong to Swirl as her horn does not currently channel magic.

No one has the time to see where it comes from before Crimson is forcefully ripped out of the many magical binds, is lifted and thrown into the dungeon cell, shut and locked as soon as he passes through the door. He hits the ground on his back and bounces once, skidding to a stop before he hits a metal leg of the cell’s bed.

He lifts his head up, grunting, trying to look back at the guards and mages. Their faces paint shock, they all come down for deep bows. A figure steps into view from the edge of the man's cell, a tall white alicorn donned with golden fixtures glares bitterness towards him. No speaking, no movement. Her horn charges with incandescent magic, she and her subjects around her are all encompassed by it.

Crimson stampers onto his feet, uttering a curse to himself. "Celestia!" He shouts as he reaches the bars of his cell and grasps them with fury. Another blinding flash of light, the princess teleports herself and her subjects away before his very eyes. "Fuck!" He exerts his body, trying to bend the bars out. They move very slightly at his force, but as soon as they reach a threshold of about a centimeter, they begin to glow with magic, and moving them becomes all but impossible. Hard-headed and stubborn, he keeps trying, and trying, and trying.

“Faahck!” he staggers back two steps and lets his arms fall limply. He pants and glares at the ground bitterly. “Shit…” He backpedals until he reaches the twin bed, coming down to a squat to sit on the edge of it. “… Fuckin'... god damn it…” He puts his face on his palms, resisting the urge to scream into them.

He sits in silence, with distant clanks of metal and windy drafts in the dungeon to accompany him.

‎
‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Infirmary ~<
‎ April 9th, Sunday, 7:30

‎ ‎

The night passes and makes way for the morning.

Her pink orbs stare into the far off nothing, unmoving, unchanging. She had not slept all night, and she has not moved in hours. A blanket surrounds her still form a she sits on a nursery bed. The sun has begun to shine over the horizon, providing light into her dark blue and white room.

A gentle knock sounds out from the room’s door. She does not react to it whatsoever, and as a matter of fact, she thought it might have just been her imagination… that is, until the door comes open and in trots a nurse. She looks extremely cautious and worried, stepping in at a pace that would allow her patient plenty of time to tell her to leave.

She says nothing. The nurse takes this opportunity to trot a little faster, over to the still mare’s side. “Good morning, Moonlight.”

“… Hmm…” she hums into the air without looking over.

“Are you feeling peckish? Is there anything I can bring you?”

“… Mh-mh…” she slowly shakes her head.

The nurse feels slightly relieved that she got a coherent answer. Last night when she was brought in, she was completely unresponsive. “May I please bring you something to drink?”

“… Mh-mh,” she declines again with the shaking of her head.

“Hydrations is important, Moonlight. You need to drink water.”

“… Mmm,” she hums, seeming to acknowledge what she said, but nothing further.

The nurse smiles at her, hiding the sadness she feels at the state Moonlight’s in. “Stimulation is also important, Moonlight. You’ve been completely still since last night. May I make physical contact?” After some stillness, Moonlight nods her head weakly. “Thank you. Please let me know at any time if you feel uncomfortable.” The nurse carefully reaches her hoof to Moonlight’s, resting it on top. The simple and gentle touch causes Moonlight to jump very quickly, her eyes grow wide and she begins to breathe heavily. “Sshh, sshhh… it’s okay. It’s okay, Moonlight. Inhale… exhale. … Inhale… exhale."

As the nurse continues to repeat these words, they start to reach Moonlight. She follows the presented directions, her frantic breathing slowing down to pace of her words.

“Inhale…” the nurse joins in, taking in a deep breath, “… exhale.” She releases the breath slowly. She smiles again at Moonlight once her breathing is regulated. “Keep breathing like that, you’re doing great.”

She softly runs her hoof up Moonlight’s, until she reaches her foreleg. Moonlight begins to vibrate again, but at focusing on her breathing, it is not as intense as before. Soon, the nurse is able to run her hoof up and down Moonlight’s arm without her anxiety rising.

“I’m happy to see you making progress, Moonlight. If you are willing to tell me what has happened, I may take the appropriate steps to help you further. We could map out the appropriate therapy and treatments for you.”

“Mm…” she hums with a frown forming upon her face.

The nurse leans in and coos, “Ssh, ssh… it’s okay. Do not force yourself if you are not ready. I am here for you. I will listen when you are ready, and only when you are ready.”

“Crruhm…” she huffs with a tremble. The nurse’s ears fall to her head, seeing that this little mare is trying her hardest to be strong. The active attempt at trying to speak her mind is there, and she gives her all the time she needs to let that happen. “… Crrhmm... c-cr… hnnn…” Her eyes finally stare away from the void, looking into the nurse’s eyes.

The nurse can see the despair soaking her soul.

“… C-Crims-s-s-son…”

“Crimson,” the nurse repeats with a nod, keeping her eyes locked on hers to encourage her.

“C-Criimms-s-s… h-he… hnnn, he... help-p-p… mee…”

The nurse nods again, “and what did he help you do?”

“… H-He help-p-p… meee…”

She nods once more. “I’m happy our angel helped you, Moonlight. And what did he help you with?”

“He h-help-p-p… Mag-- … Mag--M-M-M—”

Bam! “Hello, hello!”

Moonlight freezes and clenches her teeth, her eyes dilating to grains of salt. Even the nurse jumps in fright from the sudden kicking open of the room’s door, followed by the entry of a dark green unicorn stallion in a lab coat and two Royal Guards.

“Doctor Ivy?” the nurse questions in shock, glaring back at the Castle's head doctor in disbelief.

“Good morning, nurse Redheart,” he replies very friendly. “And good morning to you as well, miss Wish.”

The easy-blue unicorn has shelled back up and remains completely silent, not hearing a word that he said.

The obviously agitated and confused Redheart speaks up again, “What are you doing here, doctor? And so early?”

“Oh, just some emergency surgeries. Some of our wounded scouts came back from a deployment. I see you’re taking care of miss Wish, here.”

“I am,” she frowns, “just as I have for many years, doctor. We are making excellent progress.” Her frown furrows further at the doctor’s cheeky smirking. “I mean no disrespect, doctor, but why are you here?”

“Just to let you know that I’ll be handling miss Wish’s treatment. You’re relieved, please tend to your other patients.”

“Weh-Whaat?” her eyes dilate. “Why? Moonlight has always been my patient, why are you—?”

“Nurse Redheart,” Ivy sternly calls, interrupting her, “I owe you no explanation. Further insubordination, and I’ll have your license suspended. Take your leave immediately.”

The horribly confused nurse glares back at him and the two guards that protect him. She then looks back to Moonlight, who has regressed completely. Her heart shatters, but with nothing else on her side, she forces herself to leave.

Doctor Ivy and the guards track her as she leaves the room. Once she exits and closes the door, the doctor throws his gaze to the frozen mare sitting on the bed. He walks towards her with an amicable simper. “Good morning, miss Wish.”

“… Hn…” she barely acknowledges, staying unmoving.

“I understand the gravity of your situation. And I will be the first to say, I’m sorry for what has happened. There is important information that I must relay to you.”

“… Hnn…”

The stallion tilts his head at her, seeing that she is completely holed up. She will not be able to listen to him properly in this state. With the unamused raising of his brows, he charges his horn with green magic to fire a quick spell at Moonlight’s chest. It hits her, she rocks back slightly from the mild force of the impact… and her eyes expand very, very wide. Her eyes then dilate to a fairly normal size. She cranes her head as if a demon possessed her, looking directly at the stallion.

“Do I have your attention, miss Wish?”

“Yes,” she replies obediently, still staring up to him.

“There is important information regarding the unfortunate circumstances we find ourselves in. Scribe Magnifying Glass is now deceased, even our best treatment could not resurrect him from such a brutal state. We understand while he may have had… untoward advances to you. I am sorry that you were victim to impulse. Magnifying Glass belonged to a very… important family. A family very important to the Consortium. And due to the nature of this incident, please understand that you may not speak of this to anypony. This information is to remain with you and you alone. Remember the agreements you signed when you were initiated as a Scribe. Security and confidentiality must be upheld, or you will face the consequences. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” she replies in monotone.

“But, worry not, dear. The human responsible for Magnifying’s untimely death will be persecuted to the furthest extent of the law. If all goes well, he will never set foot outside of the Dungeon. Though optimally, he will be put to death. That’s the best outcome we could hope for.”

“Crimson will be killed?”

Ivy brightens in amusement. “Ah, yes, that’s his name. I had forgotten about that. Hmh. ‘Sky.’” He nods, “he will be killed. That’s what we are aiming for.”

"Here?"

"Not here, he will be shipped out. Our benefactors requested him directly. Don't worry about any of it, miss Wish. It will all be taken care of."

She says nothing further, only ogling up at him like a possessed doll.

“Remember, miss Wish. The vows you took many years ago still hold true. We hope you make the right decision. Now relax. Take some time, we understand that this is a lot. Therapy will certainly be required. I will coordinate your treatments and employ the best of the best to aid you in your recovery. Was there anything accommodations I could provide you with in the mean time?”

She faces directly forward at no one for a second or two. She then looks back up to him again. “I would like to go home.”

“To your Baltimare residence, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Most certainly, miss Wish. We’ll get preparations underway as soon as possible.” The doctor and his guards walk to the door and open it. He takes one last look back at her. He channels his horn again, a green phantom-like aura comes rising from Moonlight’s head and leaves her, dispersing into nothing. Then, the doctor and his guards leave and close the door.

The magic leaving her body returns her to her own mind. She recalls everything they discussed as if it happened in the matter of a second.

...

Not a sound comes from her void gazing self. Tears travel like rain down her cheeks, yet she remains completely still.

Token of Spite

~ Canterlot Castle, Swirl's Room ~<
April 9th, Sunday, 8:02

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“I am not joking!” Swirl snaps at both Bulletpoint and Strix, all sat down on the couches of her room. “Crimson killed Magnifying Glass! In cold blood!”

“That can’t be!” Strix holds her hooves over her mouth.

“Fuckin’ A!” Bulletpoint’s atheism has him shaking his head. “You sure, lass!?”

“Without the shadow of a doubt!” Swirl affirms.

“This can’t be true!” Strix shakes her head. “He couldn’t have done something so horrible!”

“Listen! I need you two to listen!” the yellow unicorn snaps at them. The two force their mouths shut, their eyes expanding as a consequence. “There are many unanswered questions on Crimson's disguise and motives, but he did not simply murder the scribe without a reason! That cretin had forced himself onto Moonlight! Celestia herself had set us, the witnesses, aside! She explained everything using black and white! Magnifying’s intentions, the guards, the set up… everything! And that is not the worst part!”

Strix and Bulletpoint appear even more mortified at the prospect of more terrible news.

“Celestia admitted to knowing about Magnifying Glass the whole time! Not just him, everything! The Black Horseshoes have been amongst the Consortium for many years! All of the fronts and politics that they played made this out to be more than just a well-kept secret!”

“You fackin’ tellin’ me that Princess Celest’cha yields to them gang cunt ‘oles!?”

“Yields?” Swirl squints her eyes. “She’s their puppet! The illusion that she rules Canterlot is nothing but a farce! Now that their mask has fallen, every Canterlot defender that knows the truth is on their watch-list. Myself included. I would not be surprised if our numbers were suddenly down-sized.”

“That pasty pallid bitch,” Bulletpoint spits in rage. “’N they gonna put Red to the blade ‘cuz he killed a fackin’ Horseshoe. Who gives a fuck if he dyed his hair black! He did ‘Questria a fackin’ service!”

“We need to do something!” Strix pleads. “I-I can’t--! We! We can’t just let this happen to him! He’s our friend!”

“Damn right, shiela! Red’s my mate ‘n I ain’t gonna let a piss-ant gang back me into a corn’a!”

“Do you two realize that helping Crimson means we defect?” Swirl growls at the both of them. "Do you understand that me simply telling you this is grounds for my permanent imprisonment?"

“Who cares, Swirly!” Strix gripes. “We’re, like, the Elite team! We put our lives on the line and stuff! We can do this! I’m so tired of living in Canterlot, and our contract doesn’t let us leave! I’m so tired of it, sis! Tired of the politics! Tired of being tired!”

“I’m with Essie,” Bulletpoint grits. “I ‘ave the upmost respect fer cap’n Snowfall, but this shite? Nah, mate, I’ve met my limit. I’mma help that fackin’ bloke out, with or without’cha, Swirl. You wanna play it easy ‘n safe? Then fackin’ stay ‘ere.”

“Silence!” Swirl snarls at him. Both he and Strix perk their ears in surprise at her tone. “Not only are you letting your emotions overcome your rational thought, I never said I was going to remain idle. I am only saying that I hope you two understand the gravity of this situation. If we defect from the Consortium, there is no looking back. Especially now. Their façade has broken? Everypony in the Guard and Mage Guild knows the Horseshoes rule the Consortium? There is no mercy. If we are caught, we will be imprisoned. Even executed.”

The determined looks that have grown on their faces does not falter. Bulletpoint lets out a rough breath through his nostrils. “If it means I fight the same gang-trash that I’ve been fightin’ my 'ole life, I’m well for it.”

“Me too,” Strix nods firmly. “We’ve always fought the bad guys. Just ‘cuz now our own government is the bad guys, doesn’t mean we can’t fight them!”

Bulletpoint smirks at her choice of wording but agrees full-heartedly.

Swirl enters deep contemplation, letting her pink orbs drift to the side. She then sighs deeply, shutting her eyes tightly to relieve some tension. “No. Let us set aside these notions of fighting and violence. We cannot act so rash. We will need something. An advantage. A plan. We cannot be caught defecting without having any solid ground to stand on. Again, let us not think with our emotions, but with our minds. We must play it safe. Act as normal. Our goal is as simple as making sure he is in good health.”

“Said the Horseshoes are the one pullin’ the strings, ye?” Bulletpoint asks. Swirl nods with a raised brow. “What of the guard? They part’a the ploy?”

“I am not certain. What I can say is that, including myself, every mage and guardpony who was pulled aside by Celestia last night was awed to find out the truth. It may be a select few double-agents veiled among our ranks. It goes without saying that Celestia would not reveal their identities. We are faced with the likes of Magnifying and the two guards who protected his abominable behavior. But we do not know who they are.”

“What about Moonlight?” Strix brings up. “I’m super worried about her.”

“I have the same concerns. My biggest worry is her mental health. Last night, before I unknowingly banished Crimson to the dungeon, I… saw her. Head Researcher Wish was completely incapacitated and in anguish. I did my best to assure her safety before I used my last translocation scroll to teleport to the dungeon. She is under the care of her usual nurse and is in good hooves. I worry not for her safety now. But what has happened to her is unforgivable, and the Consortium's course of action is to conceal this. I cannot leave it alone.”

Bulletpoint glares needles to the lava lamp that churns with a multitude of colors, trying to find something to calm his brimming anger with. “Poor shiela can’t catch a fackin’ break. First that janitor mongrel… now this.”

“Why her?” Strix follows behind his thought.

“Fate is… cruel," Swirl muses. "Especially to her. But now that we know better, we can push against it. Again, I cannot emphasize enough that if we are caught defecting, we may not come out victorious. What we are up against is much bigger than we could hope to realize. Unfortunately I do not have a plan, but we may formulate one by gathering information. It will be tricky, but… it is all I can think of.”

“Info, ey?” Bulletpoint queries while sitting up. “How do you suppose it?”

“Yeah! What’cha got for us, Swirly?” Strix ask with a forming smile.

“The more complicated information will be from you, sister. I would like you to obtain the latest medical records from the Infirmary, if possible. I want to see what medical staff is handling the diagnosis and cleanup of the crime scene. I am certain they would not use regular staff, but instead Black Horseshoe infiltrators. Can you handle this?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Good. Bulletpoint, as Second Lieutenant, you have access to the patrol lists Captain Winter receives every other morning by the Consortium. Bring me a copy. I will use this to see which guards are being manipulated to accommodate for this incident.”

“Consider it done,” the stallion affirms.

“Excellent. In the mean time, I will write out another set of translocation scrolls. Last night, our mages used up the reserve we had stored away to surround Crimson post-haste. This should give you two enough time to acquire what we need. I will start on a plan once you both return with your records.”

“Undastood.”

“Understood!”

“Then, let us not waste any more time.”

‎
‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Dungeon ~<
April 9th, Sunday, 18:44

‎ ‎
‎

Crimson finds himself winning a staring competition with the ground under him, one that he has played for a few hours now. He is hardly able to contain his fury but unable to expend it in any reasonable way. All he can think about now is the two mares at his forefront.

Moonlight. She is in safe hooves and is being cared for. … At least, that is the assumption. He cannot think of any other way it could possibly get worse for her.

Dahlia. Who knows what the hell she is doing or thinking right now. He desperately hopes she is not trying to break into the Castle, that would be the worst decision she could possibly make. Maybe she is reporting back to the Brains about his failure. Or maybe she is just sitting in the transponder room, waiting for him to break himself out.

Everything has fallen apart so quickly, and he cannot even begin to find a way to get himself out of this. Maybe he could. Maybe he is able to, but it is a shy thought in a vast hall of noise.

He reaches for the collar around his neck, barely able to understand what it means. Something he felt to be true has proven to be false. The collar does not work on him, but it does work on him. It fails to drain him sometimes while able to screw him over other times. He has been running a steady game with this thing throughout the entire time he has been cursed with it. Now that he as the time to stop and try to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, it escapes him. Maybe there is some pieces he is missing, but he cannot begin to fathom why this is.

He looks over to the metal bars that separate him from freedom. He sees that no guards have come to stand posted. As a matter of fact, he does not see any guards at any of the other cells. No wards to be seen poking behind edges or corners either. He goes to assume that the Castle royalty has so much confidence in their magic prisons that there is absolutely no way anyone could escape.

He feels like he does not actually understand how fucked he truly is. He laments on this fact long enough…

…

… long enough for a quiet repeated clack of metal on the stone ground to perk his attention. He fixes his attention to the metal bars again, rising up from the bed with clenched fists. It sounds like the metal clanking comes closer, seeming to stop right in front of his cell. He does not see anyone. A trick of sound or something of the sort, he darts his eyes quickly between each gap of the bars.

He is astounded to see a tube of deep blue magical light begin to shine in the middle of the air. This floating disembodied magic acquires a physique when a being reveals themselves from invisibility. Their presence forms from up to down, the spell casted on them sparkles away.

“Princess Luna!?” Crimson calls with haste, quickly running up to the bars of his cell and gripping them.

“Ssh!” the princess softly commands. She looks around left and right, ensuring that nothing approaches them. She then glares up at him. “… So it is true.”

“That everythin’s fucked and I’m in the middle? Yeah, it is.”

“I do not understand, my angel. What is happening? What has occurred?”

Crimson feels a mixture of unsurprise yet astonishment at her questions. “You meanin’ to tell me you have no idea what’s goin’ on?”

“I do not. Last night, during the sound-off of the rallying horns, I attempted to respond to the intrusion. Little did I expect for Celestia to not only be awake at the dead of night, but to command against my intervention. She, instead, assessed the calling while leaving me to the Dream World. Against my sister’s demand, I could not let my curiosity rest.”

Crimson squints, his mind dotting the i’s. “Listen, Luna, I ain’t know what you ‘n yer sister talk about, but if you didn’t find out already, she’s a pawn fer the Black Horseshoes. That despicable fuck Magnifyin’ Glass tried rapin’ Moonlight Wish, ‘n he would’a gotten away with it had I not broken into the Castle just in time to stop ‘em.”

Luna reels back in shock. “Broken into the Castle? What reason would there be to trespass when thou art welcomed?”

Crimson’s squint holds up for a moment before he realizes she truly had no idea what is happening. “... You’ve been really left in the dark by Celestia, haven’t you?”

“I already know she has ties to the Black Horseshoes. The relationship between them and Canterlot is strictly for Celestia to pertain. I do not involve myself in such matters.”

“… I've had a good feelin’ about you, Luna. I don’t know if I can trust you with this, but… I reckon I ain’t got shit else to lose. So... listen, I was working with the Black Horseshoes. I used them fer information while they used me to fetch their groceries.”

“Thoust worked with them!?” She questions harshly, but keeps her voice down.

“I did, and as a matter of fact, I’m still workin’ with ‘em. Before you assume the worst, I only put myself in their sights so I can get the information I needed about Equestria’s humans. I’m so close to crackin’ this, I just need that last relic in Moonlight’s room. That’s why I broke into the Castle. I didn’t come here as ‘Crimson.’ I came in as ‘Sky.’”

At this, Luna visibly strikes eureka. “Some time ago, I was relieving myself of duty for the morning. As I exchanged the throne with my sister, she was having a hushed conversation with a Consortium chair member. I overheard the name ‘Sky.’ I had feared that she was speaking upon Horseshoe matters. This would mean she was speaking of you.”

“Yeah. Everything you might have known or heard was me.”

"Is that a title or a code word used while you were undercover?"

"Sky?" Luna nods. He shakes his head dispondetly in response. "It's my family name."

"Ah. I see. Crimson Sky. I suppose we never did learn of your full name, did we?"

"You didn't. Wasn't fer nothin' though."

"If I might ask, what is the final goal with the relic in the Head Researcher’s possession? What is the intention behind its acquisition?”

“Not just the one. The Doyens are lookin’ to get a set of relics together in the hopes of becomin’ immortal. One of their Brains already admitted it likely ain’t gonna work, so fetchin’ them in exchange fer information on humans is a barter in my favor.”

“What art thou hoping to find in regards to Equestria’s humans? Was it truly worth ending up in this… position?”

Crimson gives her a fiery glare. “Yer fuckin’ right it was worth it. Not for the humans, but fer Moonlight.”

“If I may speak freely, the Scribe once known as Magnifying Glass did not satisfy many criteria of comfortable social function. That is quite an achievement coming from myself as I am completely inane in the subject.”

Crimson smirks, finding some amusement in her words despite the situation. “Yeah, he didn’t rub me the right way either. Puttin’ my fist to his head was a pleasant experience.”

“Thy level of commitment to the Head Researcher’s safety and well-being is admirable. It makes me believe the injunction enacted upon thou was ill-placed.”

“On that I’m glad we agree. Listen, princess, I have a favor to ask of you. It’s a shot in the dark, but we’re already here.”

"I cannot release thou from thy cell. A silent alarm will have us surrounded by Consortium subjects within moments."

"It ain't that. It's... somethin' else."

Luna looks to be very hesitant. “... Tell me your request.”

He stops to think briefly. “… Get the relic from Moonlight’s room. Get it and get to the waterfall behind the Gardens. There’s a secret room behind it. I’ve got a partner there, give her the relic. If I can find a way to break outta here, that’s all we’ll need.”

“Thou hast comprehension that thou ask me to betray the Consortium by aiding in this endeavor."

“Well aware.” Luna turns her unenthused gaze away. Crimson’s shoulders droop and he shakes his head, “Forget it. Stupid of me to ask. This ain’t yer fight, you shouldn't be gettin’ caught up in this.”

Luna nods, taking a step back, appearing much more tense and stoic. “It is wise to not interfere,” she speaks again in her olden method. “I find this predicament unfortunate, but as it stands, there is nothing that can currently be done.”

“… Yeah.”

Luna looks up to the despondent man again, asserting her eyes on him until he looks back. “… I admire thy conviction. Thy resolve and heart cannot be trifled with, and I yearn for that strength within myself. I still think on that fateful night when thou first made my acquaintance. What thou hast told me. Despite where thou now finds thyself, thou still holds true and resolute.”

"Hm. You think back on that night a lot?" Luna nods twice. "You remember what I said about the formalities?"

Luna smiles slightly, turning her deep orbs away from him. “Indeed, I do. Does my voice still soothe you?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Her smile grows just a bit wider, her cheeks tint a rosie color. "I have come to understand… my sister’s ruling is the exact opposite of your stature. Irresolute, frail, and indecisive. She has the grace and presence to convince a crowd that Equestria is on its way to recover from the War… yet she will not separate us from the Horseshoes. She does not want to break away from the safety and comfort they provide, start from the ground and truly build up the empire she advocates for. For the last twenty years that we have had our crowns, she continues to insist that change will come, that we shall expand on our own and step away from the darkness. But she is afraid. I never had the courage to address this directly with her, but this failure to commit has caused a grand divergence in our relationship as sisters. She takes the glory of the waking world while letting the poison seep. She hides me away from reality, she does not allow me to see what I have the right to see. Just as last night, when she stowed me away to imprison you.”

Crimson continues to stare silently at her, his brows lining the top of his eyes.

“… Our kingdom would thrive under the rule of one such as yourself, Crimson. That is something I have realized some time ago.”

Crimson drops his gaze despondently. “… I was wrong about you.” The princess tilts her head at him, waiting for him to continue. “I was wrong about what I said. Very wrong. Between you ‘n yer sister, all this time, there was a weak link in the chain. I couldn’t see it then, but there it was… rusted ‘n chippin’ away at the strength of the pull. … It wasn’t you. It was yer sister. She played me, the politician she is… but a mask always shatters. Like mine did. That’s somethin’ I always liked about you, Luna. You never put one on. Maybe you just… didn’t know how to, but… doesn't change the fact.”

Now it is Luna’s turn to take in his words in a thoughtful silence.

"Let’s just pretend we never spoke. Least now, you know the truth."

"... Indeed. But I will part with one last divulgence. My sister shall beckon soon. I have overheard much of her plans, but... I shall let events unfold as they shall. I only wish the best of luck to you."

“… Get yerself somewhere safe before yer caught.”

Luna looks up to him, her eyes hiding many thoughts behind them, but she speaks none of them. She takes a step back, her horn begins to glow. The invisibility that shrouded her before encompasses her again. She disappears, her hoofsteps are completely silent.

”Her hooves are silent.” He now realizes that she likely allowed him to hear her approach, if for effect more than anything else. Very intriguing, he thinks to himself.

He returns to the bed and sits back down, taking a page out of her book to rack his mind on a clever way to try to approach his situation. He does not know what awaits him. He does not know if breaking out is even possible, and if it is, he may not have the opportunity to do it. All he knows is that he needs to get out of here and get back to her.

He has a promise to keep. He will not break it, even if it kills him. Or others.

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Guard Fields ~<
‎ April 10th, Monday, 6:58

‎

The sun shines above Equestria, warm and comforting in the early morning.

His dandelion-yellow eyes lazily remain straight forward as he walks ahead, aiming himself towards the Castle training grounds. He steps foot outside of the major archway at the back of the Castle, crunching grass underneath his hooves. Early morning, the sun warms up the chilly air of Canterlot. His orange coat bounces the morning rays perfectly, his expression almost acknowledges it.

Bulletpoint traverses through the training grounds, past many guards who train and spar, or run the obstacle courses littered about. He aims for a certain structure at the far end of the grounds, just past the barracks, a single square building that houses the most important figure in the Guard. It should be a simple 'hi and hello,' in and out without any hassle. Maybe share a few words about what happened.

As he gets closer to this building, he notes that it looks more like a two-story office. Even though he has visited this structure many times in the past, he really did not take in its design much until now, partially due to being on edge and heightening his senses from recent events. He approaches a staircase which leads to the glass doors of this building.

Upon entering, the office building aesthetic really takes ahold. There is a receptionist mare sitting at a desk at the far end of this lobby, and there is a staircase next to the receptionist desk that leads to the second floor. The building seems oddly small to be an office, despite appearances. It looks more like a personal quarters with a front desk at the first floor.

The mare at the desk seems rather cold and uninterested at his entrance. She writes into parchment, holding a plume in her orange magic. Bulletpoint takes off his helmet and sets it next to the receptionist’s desk.

“Mornin', Polly," Bulletpoint greets casually.

"Good morning, Second Lieutenant. How can I assist you today?"

"Just stoppin' by to see Top. She in her quarters?"

"Yes, sir, she is."

The stallion says nothing further and continues. He walks to the staircase at the right of the desk, heading up to a wood door that has a non-transparent window on it. He lifts his hoof, his armor rustles lightly at this motion, and he knocks on the door.

"Come in!" a commanding yet calm voice sounds off from the other side.

Bulletpoint opens the door and steps into this personal quarters. Maybe a breach and clearer's habit, but he glances around despite being familiar with his surroundings. There are posters and pictures everywhere that involve the Royal Guard. Trophies and medals detailing all sorts of accomplishments that Snowfall had completed throughout her time serving. For a mare that seems to be in her early years of adulthood, Bulletpoint thinks she has done quite a lot. It looks like retirement might be soon knocking on her door. There is a spacious bed to the left that is still unmade from the previous night, some drawers that are half-closed, and some articles of clothing resting on the carpet floor. Now looking at the room as a whole, it is fairly messy, especially in comparison to what he has seen before. Retirement is closer than one would think, if she is being this careless now. ... Or maybe it is not retirement causing her to act this way.

"Mornin', cap'n," Bulletpoint speaks up to the mare who sits at her desk, filing through paperwork.

“Morning, BP," Snowfall replies, her squinted eyes still focused on the documentation in front of her. "You don't usually catch me this early in the morning."

"Reckon I'd stop by."

"Do you now. Hm. Since you're here, why don't you take a seat? There's actually something I wanted to talk to you about." She motions over her desk to a chair on the other side. The seat is more like a single-cushion couch, ample and comfy-looking. He does as she asks and sits himself down.

"... Permission t'a speak freely, cap'n?"

"Granted," she replies sternly.

“Your room’s a mess.”

“The team sniper always has a sharp eye.”

“Gettin’ loose?”

“Something like that.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“None, except the fact that I’ve earned my right to be messy.”

"Not like you to be."

"Maybe not. But that's besides the point. I'm sure you know what I want to talk to you about.”

"It ain't about pickin' daisies 'n fascinatin' the weather, that's for damn sure. Last night was a mess."

"Damn right it was. He's here. He's really here, and he's behind bars. He broke into the Castle and killed one of the Robes. There's no better place he should be than the Canterlot Dungeon."

Bulletpoint squints at her seriously, but does not jump despite his first instinct. “All due politeness… expected better from you, cap’n.”

“I could say the same.”

"Bloke's innocent."

"Do you really believe that, BP?" she questions him sternly. "Do you really believe that an assassination against a valued member of the Consortium is grounds to call him 'innocent?'"

"More than grounds," the stallion throws back. "Say Red's done us a favor. Pickin' off a fackin' Horseshoe."

"You've received almost as many write-ups as Banter for speaking out of line. What you just said is justifiable for a final."

Again, against his urges, he remains seated and keeps squinting at the captain. "... Ye?"

"Yeah. It is."

Bulletpoint leans forward, glaring right into Snowfall's icy blue eyes. "... Do it then."

“I’m disappointed, Bulletpoint. I would have figured the second lieutenant would know better than to be insubordinate.”

“Ain’t nothing against you, cap’n. I'd say we're still good friends. Know you’re just doin’ ya job.”

“And I expect you to do yours.”

“Sure you do.”

Snowfall sighs, setting down the documents she tries to scrutinize. She instead focuses on him directly. "You're really head-strong about this, aren't you?" Bulletpoint keeps gawking in silence. "Not willing to accept Crimson as the bad guy?"

"'Till you can prove he didn't kill gang trash..." he smirks cheekily, "... nah. Chap's the same hero now as he was when he saved our arses in Yakyakistan."

"You call him a hero?"

"Ain’t even a fackin’ question, lass. What about him ain't say hero? You'd be in a grave had Red not taken that prince. Whole bloody team would."

"I'm fully aware of that, BP."

"Respectfully..." he sits back in the seat, crossing his arms over his silver chestplate, "... don't seem like it."

"I’m not here to argue with you, and you've shown me enough, Bulletpoint." Snowfall stops glancing between him and her papers, instead focusing on the stallion now. "You're clearly showing honest-to-goodness intention of siding against the Consortium and sympathizing with the enemy."

"He ain't. An enemy. Cap'n."

Snowfall stares back at the riling stallion unenthusiastically. "Whether you'd like to accept the reality of our situation is up to your discretion, BP. He is an enemy of Canterlot and its ponies, and that is an undeniable fact. You don't seem keen on changing sides, so I'll only have one thing to ask of you..."

Reluctantly, the stallion groans, "'N what'd that be, cap'n?"

"What’s your end goal?"

“End goal? Pssh. Fuck the end goal, we gotta make sure the lad doesn't get the raw end of the butcher's knife first. Details come down the pipeline. Cap’n, I’m hopin’ you can see the light. But ‘f you wanna live under tha golden slipper, that’s your tail-end.”

“Understand that it is my duty to report terrorist sympathy, Bulletpoint. This has become more than petty insubordination. This is treason.”

“Use whatever political word that gets ya’ rocks off. Did them post schedules come in already?”

“They did,” she replies flatly, leaning back in her chair to continue glaring at him unenthusiastically.

“I request to see ‘em.”

“Request denied.”

“On what grounds?”

“Do I really need to say it?”

“What’re you gonna say, ey? That I’m lookin’ to work with the prisoner? Sympathize with ‘em? Lass, this ain’t been nothin’ but an exchange between you ‘n me. You try officially denyin’ me internal records, high echelon ain't gonna like that.”

"What do you think they'll say when I tell them your plans?"

"Tell 'em how you ain't got a tad of proof 'n you might be mentally unfit to remain as cap'n of the Guard."

Snowfall squints at him. “… And what do you plan to do with the reports?”

“Just wanna look at ‘em. Simple as. Ain't I have the administrative privilege?"

"Yes. You do."

"Then?"

“I don't get why you're being extremely difficult, Bulletpoint. You’re the last pony I expected getting bent over about this. I understand that you’re fond of him, and despite what you think, I am too, but is it really worth it? The decade you’ve spent in the Guard, all of the accolades and respect you’ve earned? You’re willing to throw away years of work and effort by biting something that is sure to bite you back?”

“Short-sighted of you, cap'n. Ain't about just one bloke. What’s the respect of others when I can’t even respect myself? Livin’ under a boot ain’t a life at all. Had I known the Consortium were just pawns fer the stars-damned Horseshoes… I’d’a burnt my ribbons long ago. You’ve known this, cap’n. Since day one.”

Snowfall sighs, visibly decompressing in her chair. Her sky-blue orbs fall to the papers on the desk, contemplating way more things than she can at once. “… I don’t wanna lose you, BP. Especially not now.”

“Neither do I you, cap’n. If you see the light of day, you’ll join me. You won’t let yerself become like ‘them.’”

"Trust me when I say, I understand you more than anypony. I care more about you than they do. That’s why I don't want you rotting away in a cell because you decided to be truant."

"'N I don't wanna see you, Essie, or Swirly givin' your bodies 'n minds fa' tyrants."

Her eyes lull upwards towards the ceiling, letting his words sit a moment. She huffs lazily through her lips, having them flatulate briefly. "... You know… it isn't any of your business, but... I took a conditional oath with Celestia when I joined the Guard. Back when I was still just a filly out of Canterlot High, Equestria was getting back on its hooves when the Great War ended. The Royal Guard desperately needed new recruits. Because the Consortium and associated names were nothing more than a passing joke, none of us went through recruiting or signed paperwork when joining the Guard. Not like you younger kids were forced to do. The Royal Sisters inaugurated us directly."

Bulletpoint, turning up for a smile and listening intently, speaks up with a jape. "Ain't much older than I am, lass. Got what, eight years on me?"

"Eight and ten months. Don't get off topic, this is important." Bulletpoint points to her, signaling her to continue. "We didn't sign contracts like you did. Me and every other pony that joined the Guard back then, we aren't legally tied down. The oath we took with Celestia and Luna was simpler. It was one sentence long. 'Strength, honor, and loyalty is our forge for gold.'"

Bulletpoint nods slowly. A smile slowly creeps onto his face. "... I see."

"I'm sure you do. When I read that letter Swirl sent last night, the one thing that kept the oath strong fell into pieces right before my very eyes. By every legal and judicial mean, I can resign now and the Consortium could kiss my white ass goodbye. But let's face it, with everything that's happened now, me resigning?"

"It'll only lead to strife."

"Marked on point, BP. They're forced to let me go with hoofs in their mouths, but that doesn’t stop them from playing dirty behind the scenes. It’s worse for you. Direct abandonment before your contract ends, or even worse, treason, will get you locked up along with Crimson faster than you can blink. You really wanna side with the enemy on this?"

"Damn roight. If you were to join us, lass, I reckon we got more than a chance."

She sighs and closes her eyes for a few seconds before gazing back at him. "Your sense of righteousness is admirable, BP... I personally think it’s your best trait."

“… Hmh.”

“… So, the patrol lists?”

"If you kindly would."

She reaches with her hoof to a drawer on her desk, taking out a folder which has sections separating the papers inside. She sets it on the desk, and Bulletpoint perks up in excitement. His enthusiasm drains a notch at seeing the dead-pan stare Snowfall gives him after she had set the folder down. "Listen, Bulletpoint. You're not dumb, but I feel the need to tell you this again. Once you take these documents and use them for… whatever it is you’re doing, you’ve crossed a line that will disappear forever. Everything Canterlot is and will be can't be looked back on. Everypony you knew and cared for that isn’t apart of this rebellion will leave an empty hole in your heart.”

“I hope you don’t miss me too much, cap’n.”

Snowfall simpers almost unnoticeably, but does regardless. “Don’t speak too soon.” She pushes the documents his way. As the stallion takes it into his possession, she glances at him, now seeing the information in his hooves. She stops to admire him and the sensitive information that he now holds. He ends up looking back at her, and they lock eyes. "… Anything else you needed from me, second lieutenant?"

He looks around her room, taking a look at all of her possessions and belongings. He assumes the stress of the whole situation caused her to bother not with cleaning her room. Something about this sight causes him to feel somewhat melancholic. An indirect vulnerability that she very rarely shows, one caused by a dilemma she chooses not to display overtly. “That’s all for now, cap’n. Appreciate it.”

She notices his long staring at her room, but she says nothing about it. In fact, she joins him, also looking at every single trophy and medal she had earned in the guard. Two uniforms are presented on wooden pony mannequins that show her dress-blues and dress-greens. Both of them are donned with separate medals and ribbons. So many fond memories of her time in the Canterlot Guard and so many ponies she met during her time. So many cherished moments, thick and thin, good and bad, ugly and beautiful.

In the end, it was all worth... nothing. A princess she swore an oath to let her better judgment escape her, and now they are found here. Change comes in waves, she thinks. This one is simply heavier than the ones before. In her heart of hearts, the war has just begun.

"You know," Snowfall begins, but pauses and holds still for a moment before continuing, "... I still remember your first day in boot camp."

"A young little muck, I was," he simpers lightly and reclines in his seat. "What brings on that memory?"

"Letting the passage of time hit my conscious mind. You were easily one of the most vocal and patriotic fresh meats I've ever seen. You had a stout heart for Equestria then."

"Still do. Protect 'er from 'er enemies. Don't matter who they be."

"And in that, you are correct. Still the same stubborn piece of work I had the great pleasure of whipping into shape. Even though you had a big mouth and anger management issues, you were always hard to hate. Had your heart in the right place."

"You tellin' me that's changed?"

Snowfall unwillingly jolts a single chuckle, letting her amusement get the better of her. It rubs off on Bulletpoint, as he snickers as well. "Not one bit."

Quietness breezes through the both of them as they fall into reminiscence. Bulletpoint purses his lips, feeling more sober in this moment than he has in a long time. "... Be nice if you sided with the truth, cap'n. I know ya' better for it."

Snowfall falls into deeper muse. A cold wind wisps through her room. The morning sun which shines through the windows becomes eclipsed with dense clouds. She is not sure whether it is her imagination or the weather, but everything suddenly feels so blue. "... What's Swirl think of this?"

"I could tell ya’, but… how ‘bout we pay the lass a visit? Get 'er own words?"

Parabolic concrete walls across her heart and mind crack, a beam of light shines through it. "Nothing beats the source direct. She busy? Don’t wanna intrude on her business."

"Never too busy for you, cap. Better question is if you’ve got the time to spare."

“I’ve had too much time on my hooves for the last two months. This gives me an excuse to leave my office for longer than five minutes.”

Bulletpoint tilts his head up as a gesture for invitation. He takes the documents with right hoof and comes off the chair. As he does, the mare speaks up again.

"Listen. All we had today is a conversation, so try to act natural around the others. That goes for you, me, and anypony else scooped into this. The point is to not get caught. Is that understood?”

“Loud ‘n clear, cap’n.”

Snowfall reaches under her desk and retrieves her saddlebags. Coming off her chair, she throws them around her waist and joins Bulletpoint at the door.

Together, they take their leave. The room becomes vacant and lonely; one last cold wind ruffles the curtains over the windows.

‎
‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Infirmary ~<
‎ April 10th, Monday, 7:27

‎ ‎

The meek steps of the yellow mare are completely silent against the tile of the Infirmary halls. Her pink orbs which hide half-way under her bubblegum mane slyly jump between every nurse or doctor she comes across. She keeps interactions to a minimum, but occasionally gives a ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’ to some of the staff that knows her.

Strix finally arrives at an office just past the patient ward. She lifts her hoof to knock on it three times quickly. Purple magic encompasses the door knob just after, the door comes open to reveal a clean pasty-white room that stands as the head nurse’s office.

Strix pokes her head in, looking over to a purple and white unicorn mare dressed in black and white garbs, who works at her abnormally wide desk.

The mare looks up to Strix, letting the channeling of her magic cease. “Ah, good morning, sergeant.”

Strix walks in completely and smiles at the nurse. “Good morning, head nurse.”

“What can I help you with?”

“I received an order from medical operations to come get a copy of this month’s audit. I was just wondering if it’s ready.” The head nurse gives her a well-earned look of confusion. “Oh, um, if it’s not ready yet, I can, like, come back later. If you want.”

“It’s not that, sergeant, I simply was not informed that there was an audit requested by med-ops.”

“Why haven’t they told you?”

“I have no clue. Was it needed for something in specific? I can’t think of a reason why an audit would be needed at the moment, patients have been coming in lightly these past few weeks.”

Strix rattles her brain for a split-second, her eyes glancing away at nothing briefly. “They were just looking to see the expense draft for each patient. They’re worried the rates went up for plastics and pumps.”

The head nurse keeps looking at Strix as if she was speaking nonsense… until her eyes brighten in realization. “Aaah, right. I did hear that a few materials recently went through a rate increase. Almost fourty-four percent, can you believe that?”

“It’s, like, really silly if you ask me. The western ports have been importing plastics like crazy, I don’t know why they would get hiked up.”

“I personally think it’s the trade agreement Los Ungulas had with a certain… affiliate of ours. But, that’s not here or there. Sadly I don’t have an official audit ready for you, but I can whip up a draft for you on the jiffy. It should be good enough to satisfy what med-ops needs.”

“That’s super.” Strix beams happily. “Thank you, head nurse.”

“No problem at all, sergeant! I’m more happy to see you again. It’s been some time, has it not?”

“Yeess! It’s been too long. I kind of miss working at the Infirmary.”

“Well, once your contract with the EG ends, we will certainly have a spot open for you!”

Strix nods with the same elation. A pit of guilt forms inside of her and holding up the smile becomes difficult.

She is able maintain her farce until the head nurse writes down and staples all of the required information together. She levitates it to Strix, who takes it with her wing and a grateful nod.

“Come back and visit again soon, Strix,” the head nurse calls merrily.

“Surest thing, Lilac! Thank you,” she holds up the paperwork as reference to her thanks. The head nurse nods twice.

Strix departs and closes the office door behind her. Her joyous simper quickly falls to a guilty frown. She trots with hastened steps back towards the residences.

‎
‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Swirl's Room ~<
‎ April 10th, Monday, 10:09

‎ ‎

Tongue sticking out slightly between her teeth, Swirl focuses intensely at the parchment she writes in. Her yellow magic manipulates the quill she holds, it dances and darts around elegantly as the ink marks out symbols and words.

She sits on the floor of the living room, hunched over the coffee table as she wraps up the fourth scroll. She pauses, straightens her back and lifts her chin, taking in a deep, stressed breath, before hunching back down and finishing.

At dotting the last sentence, she places the quill back into the ink well and leans away from her work. Her narrowed eyes start from the top of her writing, running through it in order until she ends on the bottom. Everything looks good, and once she is satisfied, she channels her magic. With a bow of her head, she shoots a mild spell towards the parchment. The words on the scroll begin to glow, the scroll itself rises into the air and faces Swirl directly.

The unicorn takes a red ribbon from a scattered stack to her right and levitates it to the floating parchment. She rolls up the scroll in mid-air and wraps the ribbon around it neatly. She sets down the raveled and tied scroll next to three others.

“Huugh!” she sighs into the air and slumps backwards, her back resting on the front of the couch. She rubs her temples and closes her eyes tightly.

She cherishes a moment of blissful silence.

It does not last long - the door to her room is opened and two pegasi come trotting in. The irate unicorn looks over to the intruders, though the heat evaporates quickly at seeing Snowfall accompanying Bulletpoint. “Captain Snowfall?” she asks through her stupor. "It has been some time since you have made your presence here."

“It has," Snowfall confirms.

"What's it been," B.P thinks aloud, "three years?"

"That's right. After we had too much to drink during that year's Royal Ball. I never did say thank you for taking us in, Swirl."

"The pleasure was mine, captain," Swirl advocates.

"Well, besides dusting off our minds. I’m not interrupting you, am I?” she asks as she looks around the room, taking in the residence.

“No, captain, not at all. Please, make yourself comfortable. Sit, if you would like.”

She gives a quick nod of appreciation before returning to examining the room again. She then moves towards the two-cushion couch, speaking an observation as she sits down. “Not a lot’s changed in the last few years.”

“Nah, sheila likes her comfort,” Bulletpoint knocks at Swirl as he approaches her with the documents and sets them down on the table before her.

“I do not change what does not need it,” Swirl snarls. She hauls herself up so she sits on the couch rather than the floor. She manually reaches for the documents and takes them into her hooves.

“I know this is sudden,” Snowfall begins, “but Bulletpoint and I were having a discussion about current events. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. What’s your plan?”

Swirl furrows her brows at the folder she holds. “I regret to inform you that I currently do not have one. What I am looking for now is to find out how many cogs are being rearranged in the machine. My first COA is to find out what the Consortium is planning to do with the eye-witnesses to the event. I am waiting for my sister to return with the medical records, and depending on what they say, I will develop the plan further. I…” she drifts for a moment, her stern focus slightly turned for despondency, “… I also wish to ensure Moonlight’s safety. All things considered, she may be in some form of danger. After we have a solid hoof on the situation, we may attempt at Crimson’s imprisonment.”

“If you needed to know reassignments, I could have helped with that.”

“Yes. Thank you, captain. I suppose I could have brought this to your attention.”

“And get the same ass chewin’ I got?” Bulletpoint interjects.

“Because unlike you, B.P, she isn’t going to jump into the fire and burn her life away. She is focused and is gathering information. Not wanting to start a riot.”

“My way’s more fun.”

“Regardless,” Swirl continues, “concrete information will aid us in the formation of a solid plan, and I believe this is a step in the right direction.”

“This is a good start,” Snowfall compliments. “It’s a two-in-one. Study who’s getting moved around, and keep tabs on our prisoner.”

“That is exactly correct, captain.” Her orbs scan through the papers and writing, finding herself learning quite a bit about the Guard even without paying full attention. She continues skimming through it until she finds what she’s looking for.

“You lasses hungry?” Bulletpoint asks suddenly. “Ain’t had breakfast, with all this mess muckin’ about. Essie was plannin’ on whippin’ some eggs, but she’s still out. I’ll take her apron. Spicy hatches find ya’ fancies?”

“That is fine, thank you,” Swirl states.

“Sure, thanks,” Snowfall thanks after.

With this, the stallion puts up a grin and moves himself to the kitchen. He reaches into the fridge, taking out eggs and jalapenos, and one bottle of cold beer for himself. He takes it all into his wings and moves to the stove which already has a clean pan sitting on it. He reaches to a cabinet under the stove and takes out a bottle of avocado oil, setting it along with the rest of the ingredients.

Snowfall lets her eyes lazily track the stallion’s movements, almost without thinking about it. “Really, dude?”

“What?” Bulletpoint glances back at her briefly.

“Thought you quit drinking.”

“Keyword: ‘thought.’” Snowfall shakes her head at him disapprovingly. “You ain’t gonna write me up, are you, cap’n?”

“Have half a mind to.”

“Let the drunk chef work his magic, you keep Swirl company there.”

Dissatisfied, Snowfall returns her attention to Swirl. She feels as if she should have expected this, but figures it may be fairly harmless if he has made it this far. Nevertheless, she takes his advice and analyzes Swirl’s makeshift workplace. She bounces her eyes between everything that has been set on the table. She reclines back and gets comfortable. “… You write those scrolls?”

“I did. I finished just before you and Bulletpoint arrived.”

“What kind are they?”

“Teleportation scrolls, captain. They will be necessary for our upcoming tasks.”

“You don’t need to be so formal, Swirl. We’re technically off-duty.”

“Yes, cap-- …” she pauses her flipping through papers, just now internalizing her reactionary replies. “… Yes. Snowfall.”

“This is gonna take some getting used to, isn’t it?”

The stoic unicorn finds herself smiling slightly, forming a slight blush of embarrassment. “I believe it is.”

“Says you!” Bulletpoint scoffs playfully from the kitchen. Both mares look over to him, watching him take a deep swing of beer. He pops off the bottle. “Aaah!~ This is gonna be like orientation all over! Whole bloody family! Except this time, no Banta, and we gotta bash some heads.”

“This is not a game, Bulletpoint,” Swirl growls. “Once the Consortium realizes that we are plotting against them, there will be nothing to laugh about.”

“Laughin’ in the face of adversity is what we do best, lass,” he uses the spatula in his wing to flip an egg, letting it sizzle. “Mmm, mm! Eggs are a blessin’ from the stars, ya feel.” He looks over to the jalapenos set out on the counter. “Gonna start cuttin’ up the lil’ devils. Brace yeselves fer the spice.”

Snowfall waives him off and looks back to Swirl. “Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat something spicy. You any good at handling it?”

“I enjoy a mild heat. Anything too spicy becomes inedible, which is blatantly not the case for you and Bulletpoint.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Returning to the memories of the Royal Ball. I vividly recall the most recent ball we attended. You and Bulletpoint consumed several ears of Mexicolt corn. As if they were not spicy enough, you both added more powdered chili.”

Bulletpoint laughs into the air. “You remember the look on the color gua’ds faces? Them blokes almost cried just watchin’ us.”

Snowfall rests her head on the backrest of the couch. “It was something, alright. I also remember a rumor floating around the infantry that I couldn’t handle spicy food. Whoever started that BS probably got hazed for weeks.”

“I believe it was sergeant major Crystaline,” Swirl states.

“Somehow I don’t doubt you. She always had a big mouth.”

“’N opened legs,” Bulletpoint spits cynically. “Fackin’ type bedded half the gua’d.”

“Sounds like you have more than one complaint about her, B.P.”

“Ye! Crazy bitch done ruined my first date with PFC Tailwind! Night was goin’ just fine before she stormed into the restaurant we was at and started shoutin’ that I’m cheatin’ on her! We got kicked out. Pissed fer weeks, I was! I reserved a table at the Flamin’ Row four months in advance!”

“Very romantic, B.P.”

As Bulletpoint was speaking, the door to the room comes open, briefly drawing the attention of everyone. They see that Strix, musing and serious, comes in. She raises her brows at Bulletpoint before shutting the door behind her. “Are you talking about Crystaline?”

Bulletpoint and Snowfall share a snicker while Swirl keeps focused on the papers. “Ye,” the stallion affirms, “fackin’ crazy cunt. Leave it to her to take a night’s hanky and think it meant more.”

Strix walks to the living room to offer the medical records to Swirl. “B.P, you’re like… the reason she went crazy. You two had more than just one ‘hanky’ before you dumped her.”

“Oy! Blasphemy, Essie! Blasphemy!”

As Strix comes to the living room, she finally notices Snowfall relaxing on the couch. “I thought I heard a familiar voice! Good morning, captain! It’s good to see you!”

“Good morning,” she replies with a relaxed simper. “Good to see you too.”

“If you’re here, does that mean we have the best captain ever of all time helping us out with our, um… problem?”

To this, Swirl looks inquisitive and Bulletpoint terribly serious. The snowy pegasus remains silent for a moment, letting her gaze drift aside. “… I suppose four heads are better than three.” Bulletpoint cocks his arm out and in for a gesture of pure glee. “I already told B.P this, but it goes without saying. We’re not looking to defect. At least, not now. Not in the foreseeable future. Let’s keep our heads on and work silently. Our endgoal is to make sure our red-head gets somewhere safe, WITHOUT getting caught in the process. Is this understood?”

Strong, affirmative nods come from Bulletpoint and Swirl, while Strix closes her eyes and delivers a cheery beam. The yellow pegasus then proceeds to Swirl and hands her the documents.

Swirl puckers her lips lightly, forcing her sore mind to channel magic to take the documents from her sister. “Thank you, Strix. Were there any complications with obtaining this information?”

The smile that was on her face from Snowfall’s presence fades away. “No problems, sis, just…” her ears fall to her head, “I had to lie to my friend. It didn’t feel good… but I guess that’s the least of our worries now.”

“Do not feel guilty, sister. This was a necessary step, and the head nurse will not be harmed. The Consortium will likely never know she assisted us. I am glad we were able to obtain this information without raising suspicion.”

Strix nods, putting up a half-hearted smile to the encouragement. She then looks back to Bulletpoint, who is sizzling up the kitchen. She trots toward him, standing right next to him and looking into the pan that radiates a poky smell. “Spicy hatches?”

“Know it, sheila.” He turns off the stove, letting the heat settle. “Wanna help me get these shites served up?”

“Mm!~” Strix nods, moving to the hanging cupboards to retrieve some plates.

As breakfast is distributed and enjoyed, Swirl continues analyzing the information in front of her.

‎ ‎

‎ ‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Dungeon ~<
April 10th, Monday, 10:10

‎

It is feeling too familiar, being locked up without the ability to tell time. He lays on the bed he does not fit on, his legs and arms hang off the edges. He glares at the ceiling, his heart beats in his ears, his aggression rises at each second passing him by. He is forced to wait again. Forced to wait for an opportunity to present itself. Perhaps not an opportunity, but an ultimatum.

It has been some time since anyone has appeared at his cell. There is no sign of it happening any time soon either. He has half a mind to try breaking the bars again. Or the wall, even. It is all underground, he knows he will not get far, but maybe cause some property damage just to spite them.

He does what he is forced to do and entertains himself with his thoughts.

‎

‎ ‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Swirl's Room ~<
‎ April 10th, Monday, 10:45

‎ ‎

“You are not clever,” Swirl suddenly grits venomously at the paper she reads. The three others around her, filled with breakfast and simply exchanging small talk on the couches, focus on the irritated mare.

“What’s wrong, sis?” Strix asks.

“Moonlight was repossessed by Doctor Ivy. I have always been skeptical about him, but now I know for certain he is an infiltrator.”

“Maybe the treatment was elevated,” Snowfall suggests. “He’s the Castle’s most prestigious doctor, it would only make sense.”

“Not in this case, captain. Even if the treatment was elevated, Nurse Redheart has always taken care of Moonlight. I support my claim using the incident with her previous partner, Crescent Cool. Her treatment was elevated twice, but Redheart remained as her assigned caretaker. They simply gave her access to more funds and equipment. Despite her title as ‘nurse,’ she is capable of as much, if not more than the Canterlot’s best therapists and ER’s doctors. Her skills are simply not stated in a paper given at a graduation, and that has been fine for her entire working career. Until now. There should have been no reason to reassign her to Ivy, not unless the treatments or her therapy involves… relinquishing of sensitive information. This stunt is too obvious. These despicable fools are not clever.”

Everyone acknowledges Swirl silently, admiring her attunement.

“Unfortunately this is not the audit I was hoping to receive, it is missing information – most importantly, the calendar. I see that she may have requested to return home to Baltimare. If she remains in the Infirmary, our situation is much simpler, implying courtesy visits do not get restricted. But in the event that they allow her to return home, as indicated by her medical equipment shipment route suggestion, we would be left in the dark.”

“I’m sorry, Swirly,” Strix apologizes with a bowed head. “I should have made the nurse get me an actual audit, I just, like…”

“Do not worry sister, it would have taken too long and it would have been very difficult to obtain without raising suspicion. The most important information is already in our possession, it is simply that there is a raised risk not knowing the calendar, especially since the nature of Moonlight’s monitoring may have somepony present at all times.”

“Maybe set up a recon?” Bulletpoint comments. “See if she tails it home or stays put?”

“I don’t think recon would be a good idea,” Snowfall denies. “Suspicion would be too high. We don’t have any business down at the Infirmary. Strix already showed her face once. If she lied to get that info, it’ll only make things worse.”

“I agree with Snowfall,” Swirl says. “Though the risk is there, the best course of action we can currently take is unrefined. I have assembled a plan, albeit hasty. I shall wait until three AM tonight, hope nopony is in the room with her, and attempt to obtain information directly from her.”

“If you’re caught?” Snowfall follows up.

“Then… we take Moonlight. It is easiest to play it off as a kidnapping rather than have the Consortium believe she is working with us. The last thing I would ever want to do is condemn her to our fate. We take her, we take our essentials, and we leave Canterlot. I… am not sure where we would go, but we cannot stay here if any one of us is exposed.”

“Risky is right,” Bulletpoint interjects. “But I’m all for it. By the time them needle-‘eads down there ring us out, we’ll be outside city walls.”

“I know a cosy little cave at the base of the mountain we can hide out in!” Strix suggests. “I got caught in a really bad thunderstorm when I was younger, and I found it! I visit it sometimes, there’s no bears or anything in it!”

Snowfall looks away and tilts her head. “That’s an option.”

“Not an optimal one,” Swirl furrows her brows, “but yes. It is an option. If all goes well, there will be no need for it. But…” she looks at her sister who had begun to frown at her harsh words. “… Thank you for giving us a plan b, sister.”

Strix brightens and nods quickly.

"Plan b couldn't hurt," Bulletpoint begins, "'specially since shit can get right facked on the quicks. Ain't mean to be the downer 'ere, but... had some wild nightmares last night. Ain’t givin’ me a good feelin’."

Strix gasps. "You too? I had a really, really bad dream last night, it didn't let me sleep! I dreamt that, there was this crowd of scary looking ponies. And Crimson was there, but, like..." she stops herself from finishing, not exactly wanting to recount what she dreamt.

"... Think I might know where that goes, Strix," Snowfall explains. "It isn't pretty."

"Strange," Swirl suddenly murmurs. "I, too, had a nightmare. Unsettling, as you all have described. To me, it felt… like an execution. Hisexecution."

“Couldn’t just be a coincidence,” Bulletpoint adds.

"Maybe, maybe not,” Snowfall says, “but one thing I’m sure of, this whole situation is stressing us all out."

"You can say that again," Strix agrees.

The stallion nods, "Whole world's gone topsy-turvy."

Swirl comes off the couch and onto her fours, trying to block out the ill omens filling the air. “I will retire early today. The dead of night calls for my attention. With any luck, another nightmare will not strike my sleep.”

“Rest well,” Snowfall calls to her. “We’ll keep racking our heads, and I’ll make sure these two don’t make too much noise.”

“Oy!” “Hey!”

Swirl thankfully bows her head to Snowfall before she continues towards her room. She enters and closes the door behind herself, encompassed in the darkness of her unlit room.

Her head lowers and she exhales slowly, trying to breathe out much of the stress she is feeling. She walks to her bed and crawls onto it, resting on her side, giving her back to the door. Her listless gaze falls upon a trophy on a stand propped up on the wall. A second place trophy she earned in the Magic Academy when she competed in the senior science fare. Second place… right behind the future Head Researcher.

Memories keep attacking her mind, keeping her awake for much longer than she would like. She is grateful that the three outside are indeed keeping quiet. That helps... a little.

It takes too long to get some sleep, but she manages it at some point.

‎
‎

‎ ‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Dungeon ~<
‎ April 10th, Monday, 19:41

‎ ‎

… No, that would not work, he thinks. He could instead try bringing out his Arch as hard as possible for a split second, then punch the bars? Maybe before the collar gets him. Something like that. ... Probably would not work either.

He has toiled his brain with so many ways to escape using his Arch, already having expended his imagination with typical methods. The more he thinks about his powers, the angrier he becomes. The more he realizes that any attempts at using them are futile, he becomes even more pissed.

He almost feels like asking it ‘why.’ Why does it work when it feels like it? Not when he wants it to. He has avoided this path of thought many times throughout his life, but it has become unavoidable. An idea fills him with dread – the idea that a parasite lives inside him and controls him upon will. Perhaps his Arch is an entity all its own, with its own aspirations and sense of self-preservation. He is horrified to think that he is simply a catalyst for the will of something else.

It is a 'something else' that really does not like him. And he thinks, just maybe, he does not like it in return. More than that, he might just hate it.

“So you hate yourself?”

Crimson sits up quickly on his bed, looking between the bars of his cell. There’s no one there.

“We both know I ain’t that cynical.”

He snaps his head to the right, towards the sound of his voice with dilated eyes. And there he sees it, himself, resting against the wall next to the toilet. This duplicate of him wears exactly what he currently wears, his hair is red and flows back naturally as his does.

“You…" Crimson begins in stupor, "... you again.”

“Me again.”

“But I ain’t… I ain’t in the Rift. I don’t even know how the fuck to get back there, with this god damn thing around my neck. How’re you here? Why are you here?”

“Come on now, don’t be like that,” the visage smiles. “Everyone talks to themselves. That’s all yer doin’. It’s normal.”

“Not literally. I’m fully conscious. Least I think I am. How’re you here?”

“I can’t be sayin’ what I think I’m sayin’. I don’t remember doin’ exactly this? Years ‘n years ago?”

“Right, now, don’t talk like that. It’s confusing as all hell.”

The visage rolls his eyes. “YOU don’t remember, then?”

“Mean, I do, but… that was a long time ago. I was a kid. Young ‘n stupid. Thought I was just imaginin’ things.”

“Nothin’ stupid about it, partner. Viola did it too. Did it all the time.”

Crimson lets his head hand as he brings his palm up to his forehead. "God, I've fuckin' lost it. I've gone total cuckoo-kazoo.”

“Who am I to say otherwise.”

Furrowing his brows, he delivers a very judgmental gaze to his visage. “What’re you even doin’ here?”

“Well ain't that sweet. Askin' me what I'm doin' here when you beckoned me over.”

Crimson stops, really trying to internalize what the fuck is happening. He he started talking to himself, aggressively calling out one of his deepest regrets. “I ain't think of it much when I was young, but now I think I know who you are.”

"Really now."

"Yeah. You're my Arch."

Lining his lips and looking terribly unimpressed, the visage sighs. “I ain’t yer Arch. I’m you."

"Nah, ‘cuz that don’t make sense."

"Think of it in any which way that floats yer boat.”

“Well I don’t see other folk talking to a figment of themselves like me ‘r Viola did.”

“Let’s worry about abstract concepts later. Why’re you belly achin’ about me? That shit you were sayin’, that I don’t listen?”

Crimson kicks his legs off the side of the bed and sits on the edge, glaring up at the visage sternly. “Yeah, you fuckin’ don’t. I try wakin’ yer lazy ass up, ‘n this god damn thing puts me down like a dog," he grips the collar again for emphasis. "You tell me if there’s anythin’ wrong with that scene.”

“Do you even know what yer talkin’ about?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Genuinely, do you know what you’re sayin’? ‘Wake you up.’ Wake what up?”

“What else? You!” he points an accusative finger at his visage.

“You’re one dense motherfucker, ain’tcha?”

“Then enlighten me, wise one. In yer blessed, perfect perspective, what SHOULD I be doin’? Holdin’ hands with you ‘n singin’ Silent Night? How the fuck do I make my Arch 'work?'”

“Fer one, gettin’ yer head outta yer ass. That’ll be a start.” Crimson squints. “Second, shut up, and calm down. You ain’t gonna get nowhere when all you keep doin’ is gettin’ aimlessly pissed off. It’s like everythin’ you learned takin’ on the Black Spurs leaked outta yer left ear.”

“Haven’t forgot nothin’.”

“You haven’t?” the visage raises both brows and wrinkles his forehead. “Then show me. ‘Wake me up’ in yer own words. Wake me up ‘n break the fuck outta here. We both know you can. Yer strong enough to do it.”

Crimson glowers at him and rises to his feet. He walks to his visage, facing it directly. The sleazy copy of the man remains reclined on the wall, looking uninterested. Crimson clenches his fists, scowls at the visage, and tenses his body. "Nrh--" his eyes glow golden, but for a second, "-- Rrhh!" The collar around his neck sends that vile shock across his body. His eyes stop glowing, the metal of the collar pulses, and he falls onto one knee.

"Bravo," the visage sarcastically says as he raises his hands to clap heavily three times.

"Eat shit," Crimson spits while facing the ground, getting himself composed. He rises onto his feet, trembling slightly from the shock. He returns to giving the visage a violent stare-down. "So what? Here to mock me? Real useful of you."

"Like I said, yer the one who called me here."

"Yeah? Then why haven't you ever shown up before? Why did you only show up ONCE in the Rift and nowhere else?" He leans in closer as he speaks, noses nearly touching as they give each other harsh glares.

"You know the answer to that, smartass. When have you ever stopped to think about me? You? Since we got to Equestria, when have you really stopped to think about you? Me? Yeah, you'll talk to Moonlight about me. You'll let Swirl test yer blood. But what about stopping. Sittin' the fuck down. And takin' a breath? Have you even tried asking yourself is what yer doin' is worth it?”

Crimson puckers his lips to respond, falling contemplative, but is cut off quickly by his visage.

“No, you haven’t. ‘Cuz if you did, you wouldn’t like the answer. Face it, you’ve fucked yourself with everything you’ve done. You put yerself in this position. Sure, that stupid bitch Fate put us here, but findin’ a way back is on us. You know what would have made everythin’ easier?”

“Don’t even say it.”

“No, no. I will. ‘Cuz you need to hear it. You wouldn’t be here, locked up like an animal, had you just used yer Arch from the very start.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls angrily, driving his fist into the wall just besides the visage’s head, breaking a knuckle-shaped crater into it. The visage looks less than impressed. “I stomped the Spurs into the fuckin’ GROUND without usin’ that plague that ruined our family. Looks like you forgot WHY the Spurs wouldn’t let us go to begin with.”

“Haven’t forgotten, partner. But you sure as hell forgot what Vigil told mama, didn’t’cha?”

Crimson remains silent.

“… ‘Course you remember. You’re just unbelievably thick-headed. Vigil told mama that the Spurs wouldn’t leave our family alone because of our gift. They wanted to use us for their gain… but Vigil laughed. He laughed and told ma, ‘if they wanna see what we’re capable of, we’ll show ‘em. We’ll show ‘em until they’re all dead.’ Even big brother knew to use his gift, and he hated it more than you do.”

“Seems like you forgot about the part where Vigil got killed. I didn’t.”

“Shut up, you stupid bastard. He got killed protectin’ mama and Viola, not to mention your sorry ass. Vigil was reckless, and mama always told him he was. Much more reckless than you, and you’re easily the most foolhardy piece of shit I know. You beat the Spurs because you played it smart. You didn’t go gun-ho like Vigil or dad. Now imagine how much easier dealin’ with those scumbags would’a been if you not only played it smart, but also used yer Arch?”

Gritting his teeth, Crimson turns his gaze away spitefully. “But I didn’t need it. I beat them without givin’ into that plague. Michael didn’t get to see what he wanted to see. He died with a hole in his heart, and that alone makes me happy.”

The visage shakes his head ruefully, sighing through his nose. “… Stubborn as a rock. You know what? Sure, let’s give you some room to wiggle in. Let’s accept the fact you DID take on the Spurs without yer Arch. Great. Good fuckin’ job, you and Viola only had to suffer a shit-load for it. Now we’re here, in Equestria, with the Horseshoes. Despite their strikin’ resemblance to the Spurs, they AIN’T the Spurs. That’s somethin’ you don’t realize, and it’s painful as all hell. These fuckin’ ponies have magic, boy. Magic. You even said it yerself, ‘somethin’ outta a fuckin’ fairy tail.’ You really expect yer dumb luck to translate in a place like this?”

Crimson holds his anger towards himself, but finds that he is unable to give a proper retort that is not simply vulgarities. He turns his face away, giving his visage a semblance of victory.

"What I thought, partner. You don't take a moment to stop and think about anythin'. Fer someone who spent a lot of time critically thinkin’ and using them skills to take on the Spurs, you’ve forgotten everythin’."

"You speak mighty fine fer someone who don't bother to show up first. I have to do it? Why me?"

"I need to speak to you? What, you think a reflection in a mirror's gonna leap out 'n find you to talk to you? What kinda sideways bullshit thinkin' is that? No, partner. YOU walk up to the mirror. YOU look at yerself in the reflection. Your own ponderance starts with ‘you.’"

Crimson squints his eyes, finding himself put in a corner again. His solid front falls for a deep sigh and the drooping of his shoulders. He walks back to the bed and sits down on the edge again, keeping his eyes planted on the ground.

"There some deep down problems you need to give some time to, James. It starts with givin' time to yerself. And I’ll be here. I’ll be here to piss you off when you need it most. Remember what I said.”

Both of their heads look towards the bars of the cell when a loud clack is heard on the other side. Sounds like a door of some sort was opened far above them, possibly the heavy doors that bar off the Dungeon from the rest of the Castle.

They both share a look, equally taking serious contemplation. The visage speaks up again, "Looks like we got company."

Crimson blinks as his autonomous conscious drives him to. With that flashing moment, his visage disappears before his eyes reopen. His muse runs on overdrive, his gaze falls to the concrete floor.

Once the sound of hoofsteps draws closer and more audible, he focuses past the bars of the cell again.

What comes into view causes his anger to spike instantly. Princess Celestia and an unnamed unicorn present themselves at the front of the cell. This unicorn is of a deep green coat and a grey mane, one with streaks of yellow across the length.

The man comes up quickly and marches to them, standing directly in front of the bars. Before any words are exchanged, they share a heavy silence through weighty stares.

Celestia begins, "This is him, Doctor Ivy."

"So it would appear," the stallion speaks up with a growing simper. "The one who's costed our operations more money than every natural disaster in the last thirty years combined. That stunt he pulled in the western ports was impressive, wouldn't you say, Celestia?"

"Indeed," she affirms.

"Got a lot of nerve showin' me yer face, coward," the man grumbles to the white alicorn.

"There is no need for that, Crimson. Let us be as civil and professional as we can during our interactions."

"Shove it up yer ass, yer highness."

The mare shakes her head slowly, reproachfully. "To think you were once a valued asset to the Guard. Yet you have chosen this as your end."

"And you chose bein' a spineless shit. Wearin' gold don't make yer cowardice vanish. You couldn't get away from the Horseshoes, and here you are again... bowin' down to 'em." He shifts his narrowed eyes to the amused stallion. "Who's this fuckin' clown? Doctor what-ever-the-fuck?" The stallion loses his smile very quickly.

"Celestia, keep the prisoner in check. You wouldn't want him killed before the presentation."

Celestia's brows line the top of her eyes. "Do not make this harder on yourself. Please be mindful of your words and actions. If you demonstrate sincerity and cooperation, they may consider adopting you into their--"

"Jesus, shut the fuck up." Crimson interrupts her. "Do you hear the shit comin' out of yer mouth? 'Cooperation?' 'Adopting?' What do you take me for, Celestia? A gutless fuckin' craven like you?"

"Crimson. Please."

The man rolls his tongue, hacks loudly, and spits through the bars right at the stallion. The projectile glob lands on top of the stallion's mane. The stallion shows pure bemusement on his expression, raising his brows with little excitement.

Gritting her teeth, Celestia channels her horn and shoots a beam of offensive magic at Crimson. As if he anticipated this, he throws his upper body to the side, dodging the magic which burns the wall far behind him. Both oppressors take displeasure at his cunning, where the stallion channels his lime magic to grasp the man and hold him still, while Celestia shoots another beam at him.

Crimson is not able to fight the single unicorn's magic fast enough, it feels much stronger than a typical mage's. Celestia's sunfire projectile hits him in the chest, burning right through his clothes, knocking him out of the green magic and sending him back. He keeps himself from falling over with a frantic stagger. He slouches and holds the circle on his chest that glows with yellow magic. He grits his teeth and grunts at the searing pain concentrated on his plexus - as if a terribly hot lightbulb was constantly being held to his skin.

Oddly, Ivy appears impressed, as if he gauged the man’s resistance or survivability against powerful magic.

"Cease immediately," Celestia demands, taking out a handkerchief from behind her breastplate with her magic. She offers it quickly to Ivy, who takes it lackadaisically and cleans his mane. "Your tricks and slyness will not help you here, Crimson. This is your first and only warning. It is in your best interest to act accordingly."

The consistent pain keeps him from immediately replying. He only glares back at them in spite.

"He is very feisty," the stallion comments bitterly to Celestia. "Would you recommend extra protection for our benefactors?"

"Yes. As you can see, he has no intention on cooperating. He is very strong, you would not want to leave it to chance."

"Agreed. If he is able to take on a dragon, it's better to be safe than sorry. We'll get the request sent tonight and hopefully get him transported by tomorrow evening. Ensure that he causes no more trouble before his departure."

Celestia nods. "I will make sure of it. Thank you, Doctor Ivy."

"No, thank you, Celestia. Through your aid, we have the thorn on our side finally pinched. We will soon pluck it. Then, all we need now is to find his associates. Everything will be back on track once we can clear them out."

The man watches them both turn to walk away. Celestia glares with her pink orbs at him before she does. A last lingering stare that tells him too many things at once. Disappointment. Anger. Disdain.

... Regret.

Crimson returns the stare with only one very clear emotion. Hate. The man hears them chatter as they leave before their voices become too distant.

"Your bonuses, as we discussed, will be granted once we transport him. The third railway you requested will be set, as well as the orphanage in Deltrot will be constructed."

"You are very kind, Doctor. The ponies of north-east Equestria will be very delighted with your services."

Then, it becomes too difficult to decipher. Not just their voices... everything.

Judgement Calling

~ Canterlot Castle, Swirl's Room ~<
April 11th, Tuesday, 3:15

‎

A soft 'ding' rings out repeatedly in a fixed pattern, coming from the hanging clock in Swirl's room. Such a quiet and passive sound causes her eyes to break open. Dark circles are under them, detailing the two hours of sleep she managed to get throughout the night.

She lifts her head off the pillow and tiredly rises. Her body is shaking off the lag, but the mental preparation to tackle the task ahead is already primed. She comes off the bed and sighs through her nose. In the process of forcing herself to wake up, she rubs her eyes and approaches her robe which rests on the reclining chair and throws it over her head. She then moves for the door and enters the living room.

She spots the trio dead asleep on the couches, pillows and blankets for each of them. Snowfall rests on the two-seater by herself, while Bulletpoint and Strix share opposite sides of the three-seat couch. Several emotions wave through her at once, the most prominent being the warmth she feels at seeing pretty much everypony she cares about in one room again. The second strongest is the mild jealousy of their peaceful rest, but she faults them not for it.

She quietly trots to the scrolls she left on the coffee table and takes them into her magic. She brings them and opens her robe, putting two scrolls in the left inner flap and one in the right. She continues to levitate the fourth scroll, it follows behind her as she returns to her room.

Closing the door quietly, she steps into the open space in front of the recliner and concentrates on the scroll. Her faint yellow magic becomes brighter, the scroll begins to unravel itself as the red ribbon disappears into nothing. The words on the scroll illustrate the same luminous glow as her horn - some begin to bounce off the scroll and dance around her before fading. A gentle wind is produced from the magical scroll, disturbing her pink mane and grey robe.

Swirl closes her eyes, entering deep focus. Her mind becomes an eye, and a projection of a certain Infirmary room enters her thoughts. It is hazy due to her uncertainty with any potential medical personnel being in the room with her target. This small discrepancy does wonders to distort her mind's sight. Still, she strains herself to conjure up the fabricated model of Moonlight's Infirmary room. With any luck, she's still awake... and actually there.

Her dreariness is quickly cast away once her anxiety rises. The questioning should only take a few minutes if all goes well, but that is assuming. There is nothing holding her back from finishing the spell now and teleporting, except her trepidation. If even one thing goes wrong and she is caught, it is over - for her, and for her friends.

...

She takes in a quick breath. Another, and another. Another, and another.

She stops herself and opens her eyes when she realizes she just started hyperventilating. She shakes her head and gets herself together, attempting again at casting the scroll's spell. Her eyes close once more, she paces her breathing to ease her nerves.

”In and out. ... in... and out...”

She and the scroll become enveloped with her yellow aura. In a flash, the room brightens with magical light and she disappears from her room.

‎
‎

~~~<

‎
‎

Her eyes come open immediately when the temperature of the air drops from one second to another. She cranes her head around, assessing her surroundings quickly and desperately. She finds that she is in Moonlight's Infirmary room, the mare herself is sitting alone in her bed staring blankly at nothing. There is nopony else in the room, just as she hoped during the witching hour.

A tide of relief washes over Swirl, though she takes no time to rejoice. She quickly runs to Moonlight's side, putting herself in front of her lightless gaze. "Moonlight!" Swirl whispers to her, holding a wry smile at seeing her role model again in the flesh. It soon turns to a frown of concern at witnessing the state she is in. "… Moonlight? … Moonlight, it is I!"

The easy blue mare shows no apparent cognition, giving the ether her full attention while her mouth hangs open slightly.

"What is the Doctor planning to do with you?" She channels her magic to slip out a teleportation scroll, keeping it held and ready just in case. Her muzzle scrunches when silence is what she receives in response. "Moonlight, please answer me!"

Moonlight's pink orbs shift very slightly, that very minute movement demonstrating her return to awareness. She now stares at Swirl, but says or does nothing still.

Swirl clenches her teeth despairingly. She does not know exactly what to say or do to help Moonlight out from her decline. "I must know what the doctor and his subordinates are planning! Please, if there is anything I can do to aid you, prithee tell!" She looks around, trying to find anything of significance to assist her. The room is bare and soulless. Not one piece of personal property belonging to Moonlight is found, and nothing was brought in by anyone else, as likely there are no visitors allowed. Stepping into panic, Swirl continues to speak. "I am very sorry about what you had to experience, Moonlight, it was a grand injustice! I work to mend this catastrophe, but I need your help! You are the only pony I trust, and when the Consortium realizes I am plotting against them, they will cast me into the Dungeon! If I am found here, it shall happen sooner than anticipated! Please answer me!"

Moonlight keeps blankly staring into Swirl's eyes. "... Hnh?"

A spark of something. Swirl is encouraged by that simple sound directed to her. "Moonlight, I know you can hear me! Please, emerge from the darkness! Tell me what Doctor Ivy is planning!"

Moonlight suddenly turns her attention to the door, giving it a lopsided stare. Swirl's heart beats in her ears. Moonlight then looks back at the unicorn besides her, but says nothing. Though nothing is said, a twinkle in her depressive eyes shouts a warning. Swirl's chest tightens.

Knock-knock-knock

Cl-click, errrrrh...

A head pops in through the doorframe, a unicorn mare wearing nurse's garbs looks into the room. Her squinted eyes scan everything in sight, but stop on Moonlight sitting on her bed... alone. The blue unicorn still seems to be spacing out, as she has done for hours and hours.

...

Swirl trembles violently behind the frame of the bed. Her pupils, dilated to grains of sand, bounce left and right in dismay and prayer.

...

"Miss Wish, do you need anything?"

Moonlight fails to move or respond.

"... Miss Wish?"

Still nothing.

"... Please try to sleep. You will soon hallucinate if you remain awake for much longer."

Not even a flinch from Moonlight. The nurse pulls her head back and closes the door, leaving the room in silence.

...

Swirl comes up from the side of the bed with a deep exhale, sweating and quivering. Her breaths come out frantically. "I-I beg of you, Moonlight! We cannot rescue Crimson without your assistance!" A stark form of cognizance appears on Moonlight's face. "If another member of the staff returns and I am not so lucky, I shall end up imprisoned along side him!"

A certain keyword slowly ushers back more perception. Moonlight now directly stares at Swirl and darts her eyes small distances to take in her facial features. "... Im... prisoned?"

Swirl's dreadful frown turns to a bright smile of hope. "Y-Yes! Doctor Ivy! What does he plan to do with you? Why was Nurse Redheart relived?"

“H… He wants… he wants nopony to know…”

Glee fills Swirl's heart when Moonlight begins to speak. She nods quickly and repeatedly, trying to encourage her to keep speaking.

“T-T… Took Nurse Redheart away… and w-wants him dead…”

“Who, Moonlight? Who does Ivy want dead?”

“… Cr-Cr… Cr—"

“Crimson? Does the doctor want Crimson dead?”

Moonlight’s dumb, ape-ish expression begins to churn for sadness. Her lips quiver, her breaths stutter.

Acknowledging the silent answer, Swirl decides to try and comfort her instead of pressing the subject further so she does not cry. With some awkwardness to her movement, she reaches out and places a trepid hoof on Moonlight’s own. “We will not allow that to happen! My goal is to ensure his safety! You can assist me, Moonlight!”

Her breathy sobs manage to remain as such, not devolving into crying aloud. Her jaded pink orbs turn to Swirl’s.

“I learned that you may be requesting to return home! Is this true?”

It takes a few seconds through sharp inhales, but Moonlight nods slowly.

“When will this happen? Is there a date attached?”

Much sooner than before does the blue unicorn nod.

“Please, Moonlight, when?”

“T-This... m-m-m… morning.”

Swirl’s eyes shift small distances in thought. “Are they planning to migrate medical staff to your home or Baltimare?”

“… B… Balti… m-mare.”

“Do they have a schedule? What times will they visit you?”

“… Mor--nings…”

A tide of relief washes through Swirl again. That simple piece of information, and the affirmation that Ivy is truly brushing everything under the carpet, is all she needed to know to coordinate her next plan. “Thank you, Moonlight. Thank you for telling me this. I am… again, I am very sorry for what you had to endure. I will try to remain as close as possible, and I will do my best to ensure nopony else tries to take advantage of you.”

“Y… You’re l-leaving me?”

This simple question confuses Swirl. It takes her a moment to interpret it. “I… I must, Moonlight. But, please, do not worry. As I said, I will try to remain close and available to you – as the others will too. Bulletpoint, Strix, and even Captain Snowfall as well! We all are working together to help him, and keep you safe.”

Moonlight returns to void-gazing, appearing to accept her words but being unable to react to them properly. Swirl lines her lips solemnly. Despite not wanting to leave her alone in such a dangerous emotional condition, she lets go of her hoof and slowly backs away from the bed. Her horn channels her yellow magic and envelops the scroll. Hoping the noise does not inconvenience Moonlight too terribly, she teleports back to her room in the residences.

‎

~~~<

‎
‎

Eyes closed, Swirl holds still for a moment, both acclimating to the new environment that is her bedroom and pushing away the feelings manifested from having to see Moonlight in such a state.

She opens her eyes and looks to her bed. Heart hitting the ground, she walks sluggishly to it and lays back down.

Sleep does not come easy.

‎

~~~<

‎

The morning sun brings rise to Canterlot. As the natural light shines through the windows of the Castle Residences, it basks the four ponies who sit together in the living room of Swirl’s home. Snowfall and Swirl take seats on the three-cushion couch while Bulletpoint and Strix share the two-cushion.

...

The room is silent for a moment, a blend of muse and morning grogginess.

"Judging by everypony’s sorry mug,” Snowfall begins, staring blankly forward, “nopony got a wink of good sleep. I sure didn't... thanks to more damned night terrors.”

Bulletpoint nods with a squint, sporting bags of dreariness under his eyes. "Yeah. Same ‘ea."

Strix raises her hoof, garnering everyone’s attention. "... Your nightmares... did it have a train? Covered in blood? Coming to Canterlot?"

Nods come from everyone around, serious and musing.

"I am going on a limb,” Swirl beings. “The train we saw in our shared experience belonged to the Black Horseshoes. Moonlight revealed to me last night that they plan to execute Crimson. My assumption is that the train is meant to transport him away from the city... but... where?”

“What I don’t understand,” Snowfall lines her brows, “is why we are having the same exact dreams. Maybe one stress nightmare about the same thing isn’t anything to write home about, but this is twice now.”

"What could it mean?" Strix asks.

"I cannot say for sure,” Swirl states, “but... I believe we are being assisted somehow. As our captain stated, this is no coincidence. Everypony having the same dream twice is specific - too specific. However, this could not make sense. A being capable of this manner of magic could only lead me to assume that--"

"Wah!" "Hoy!"

All four ponies are startled, with Bulletpoint and Strix vocalizing their fright, when something suddenly 'poofs' into reality in between all of them. It spawns in the air above the coffee table, is suspended for a second, then falls down with a placid 'tap tap.' Everyone looks at it scrupulously, seeing it to be a raveled scroll tied with a dark blue string. Everyone then exchanges disconcerted glances.

Swirl levitates the scroll into her magic hesitantly. She studies it quickly, seeing that it is not enchanted in any way. It is a simple parchment-based message scroll. Pouting her lips dubiously, she unravels it and clears her throat from the frog inside, scanning the words and reading them aloud. "To whom it may concern. This letter is to inform you that you must complete the drop-off. At the request of our mutual companion, the Belt of Uru located in Moonlight's room must be delivered to a hidden enclosure behind the Great Waterfall of the West. An associate will be found there."

Stern, concerned glares come from all eyes as Swirl reads. Confusion overwhelms the air.

"... Is that all it says?" Snowfall inquires.

"Indeed," Swirl affirms. “It appears that our shadow-hoof is intentionally being vague.”

“Who in Equestria could know about us?” Strix queries.

“A good question.”

"Letter’s shallow as fuck, but," Bulletpoint clicks his tongue, "... 'm I the only one sayin' we should check this out?"

"Let us not be too hasty," Swirl states seriously. "I do not recognize the print. This could potentially lead us to a trap. Remember, as we are now, we are actively plotting against the Horseshoes. By extension, the Consortium. If they have somehow caught on--"

"Which I doubt," Bulletpoint interrupts briefly.

Swirl shifts her biting eyes to him for cutting her off before she continues. "-- IF they have somehow caught on, we will feed ourselves directly into their jaws."

"I'm with Swirl," Snowfall states. Bulletpoint rolls his eyes and slumps back into the couch. "I know you wanna jump the bow, BP, but we have the tools to play it smart. Maybe take that scroll to the Head Researcher. She might know the formalities of that letter better than us."

"Ye, but them nightmare's ain't gettin' any prettier," Bulletpoint growls.

"I get it, BP, I’m as worried about Crimson as you are. Still, we need to get this done the right way. We won't be very useful to him behind bars."

The stallion crosses his arms over his chest stubbornly, but acknowledges what she says.

"Speaking of which," Swirl starts while rubbing her left eye in exhaustion. "Moonlight will indeed be returning home. She will be transported Friday morning. In the mean time, let us focus on Crimson. Bulletpoint." The stallion jumps lightly, his attention demanded. “You said you wanted to set up a recon, did you not? Your opportunity has arose. I want you to keep an eye on every flying carriage you see, as well as the Canterlot railroad system. You will let us know if you notice any strange arrivals. This is to say… captain.” The snowy mare, who was already looking at her, raises her brow. “Would it be possible for you to assign another guardpony to watch the throne in Bulletpoint’s place? I understand if this is not possible.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” she assures. “Had more than one complaint about his behavior there anyway.”

“Oi!" Bulletpoint exclaims, "If that rat-shit corporal tattled on me, he’s tryin’a cover up fer fallin’ asleep! Twice!”

Everyone shares some amusement at his expense, with Snowfall shaking her head. “Easy, BP. Just joking. ... Kinda.” She returns her attention to Swirl. “Point is, it’s doable. Got a few hopeful hearts looking to have the honor. Same with you, Strix,” she focuses on the yellow pegasus. “You’ll be relieved from your regular patrol and I’ll assign ‘special jobs’ for both of you. If anypony asks what you’re doing, you’re doing perimeter control. Since we recently had a ‘breach,' we could say that we’re preventing future incidents.” Both Strix and Bulletpoint nod with smiles of understanding.

“I will do my own research on this letter,” Swirl informs, “and analyze the patrol lists. With any luck, we will see the pieces move in the Horseshoe’s will. Then we will know how many enemies we truly have.”

Snowfall nods once firmly. “That's what I wanna hear. I’ll fetch some comm buttons for everypony so we can keep in touch. And don’t worry, these won’t fizz out in one use. The Second Head Researcher managed to extend their range and usable lifespan.”

“Ah, so he ain’t completely useless,” Bulletpoint jabs.

“Looks like it. You two," she commands Bulletpoint and Strix, "let’s get moving. Get suited up, and remember… Act. Natural.”

Still sleepy and groggy, but now invigorated and empowered by will, the three of them prepare to covertly exit the residence and blend back into the conglomerate face of Canterlot Castle. Swirl remains seated, eyes punching into the documents in her possession.

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Western Tower ~<
‎ April 11th, Tuesday, 12:00

‎

The sun shines high above Canterlot. Noon strikes time. Bulletpoint sits on a folding chair atop one of the many balconies in Canterlot Castle's highest vantage points. He posts himself on a balcony at the summit of the Western Tower. He uses binoculars to keep sight on the city below. To his side are two canteens of water and a duffle bag, one which contains his sniper's crossbow and rations.

Back rested against the balcony wall, he sits with a slight turn so he hangs one arm off the edge of the balcony with the railing rested on his armpit. The other arm has the hoof which holds the binoculars to his eyes, where he scans each and every pony and human that appears in sight.

He occasionally diverts his attention to the railroad system on the far west end of the city. From here, he has a fair view of when a train arrives, who comes off, who embarks, and when a train leaves.

A sparse number of flying carriages are seen coming or leaving city limits. He hones in on them, getting sharp looks at whoever is seated inside them. Many of the wealthier ponies and the rare Consortium board member come and go, but nothing more. Nothing that speaks Black Horseshoe.

He licks his teeth, spotting nothing of interest at the moment. Ever yet, he remains vigilant.

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Grand Halls ~<
‎ April 11th, Tuesday, 13:14

‎ ‎

Soundless hooves tap against the polished floor of the Castle's halls. Tense and somewhat stiff, Strix tries to keep a neutral front whilst traversing these marble, stained glass, and gold innards. She analyzes the faces of the fellow guard ponies around, most of which are stoic and ignore her presence completely.

The maze-like expanse of these grand halls are known like the back of her hoof. With every turn and new face she encounters, the closer she gets to her destination. At least for now, nothing seems out of the ordinary. There is a higher density of guards now patrolling the Castle itself, but the routines and routes she is used to seeing have not changed.

Eventually she comes across one of the halls that acts as an usher to a deep staircase which travels for what seems like forever. She knows she must check the Dungeon's entrance to see if anything has changed down there, but she fears being stopped and questioned in the event someone new is posted down there. She has a lie locked and loaded in the event this occurs, but she would rather not have to use it.

Steeling her resolve, she takes this staircase down to its depths. Each step down, her silver armor clanks, yet her hooves are silent. The natural light which perforates through the many windowless openings across the Castle walls turns to null. Sunlight is replaced by torchlight, and the ambient temperature drops notably.

She eventually makes it to the bottom, where the stairs end and a massive double-door structure begins. This double-door is engraved very specifically, ominously, and there are two guards standing besides large cranks at each opposing end of the doors. Their armor is unique, the standard gold plating with red plumes is mixed with cloth garbs which completely cover their mouths and necks. She had not expected to see these two extras wearing Dungeon Master armor, as now she cannot even identify them. They look like executioners, and the stare that they give her makes her blood chill.

She presents herself for only a moment, shifting her attention between both of them. The two guards turn their stagnated eyes to her, as if finally finding something interesting in the lock of the mundane. She almost shivers. She purses her lips before attempting to smile at both of them. She thinks it is safe to say that this was an awkward venture, so she turns to walk back up the stairs.

"Is that you, Strix?"

She freezes, hearing her named called by one of the guards behind her. The voice is familiar, but his identity is hidden behind the cloth armor. She turns only her head and neck around, giving him a very worried look. Despite already having a plan in her head, in her heart, she desperately hopes they do not decide to question her. The thought of having to lie again...

The guard, who looks almost pissed from the style of his helmet and his hidden mouth and nose, reaches to pull the cloth down from his mouth. Only then does Strix realize who this is - one stallion with a deep red coat and snow white mane. "Long time no see," the stallion says with a smile that completely contrasts his attire.

"Vermillion!" She fully turns to face him. The other guard who is not Vermillion still seems completely uninterested in her, while the stallion himself continues to smile rather warmly. She trots up to him and reaches out to give him a hug, one which he has trouble reciprocating due to his clunky armor and from holding the long partisan in his arm. She holds him tightly before breaking the hug. "It really has been a long time! So this is where you've been!"

"Heh, yeah," he blushes lightly and smirks awkwardly, "though usually I'm on the other side. Got two new guys on the inside today. Being out here is at least some sorta fresh spill."

"I never knew you made it into the deadguard, dude!"

"Yup, got selected one day and, welp... just... kinda been down here most of my life now. Forget what the sun looks like sometimes. Since my post ends at midnight and all."

"That's, like, a super duper promotion, dude! I'm so happy for you!"

"Psh, says you. Look at you, wearing that fancy silver armor. You're the one that got a heck of a promotion. I mean, you're risking your life on a daily basis and all, but at least it isn't boring, heh."

Strix nods happily. "Extremely dangerous! I really don't mind it, but sometimes I wish Captain Snowfall didn't choose me for the Elite. I'd rather be down here, it's like super chill and quiet and stuff!"

"Oooh hohoho, no you don't. Trust me. Dying of boredom might be more real than you think." Strix giggles at his quip, which causes him to blush a little further. "Heh, well, uh... hey, speaking of that. What brings you down here? Some sorta new patrol pattern?"

Strix's eyes widen and she nods quickly. "Yeah! Ever since we had that... 'infiltrator,' a few of us got new patrol routes. So if you see me, feel free to ignore me! Just doing my thang~"

The stallion fixes the alignment of his helmet, chuckling bashfully. "Well that's gonna be hard, you're like the coolest pony I've ever met. Y'know, I don't think we ever got around to lighting one up under a full moon, like we planned months ago. Would, uh..." he stops for a moment, the pink on his cheeks remaining prominent. Even his fellow guard next to him looks over, raising a brow to his sudden trailing off. "... Would you be down to do that still?"

Strix nods repeatedly, giggling again. "Heck yeah, dude! I've honestly not touched any green for a good little while, so I'll probably, like, fly up and touch the moon with just one round!"

"Heck yeah, dude, that's awesome. Totally happy you're still down. Guess I'm not surprised you've been sober for a minute, with your super awesome promotion and all."

"It's been a little of a bummer, but... can't be a goofy teen forever and stuff!"

The stallion chuckles once more, this time somewhat melancholic and reminiscent. "Yeah, true that, sis. You just, uh... you let me know when you're down, alright?"

"Totally dotally, dude!" Her smile progressively weakens until it is but a lopsided simper. "Um, I'm, like... sorry, I'm totally ruining your vibe and stuff being down here so long. I'll leave you alone and keep doing rounds."

"No! Not at all, dude! It's great I got to see you again! It's been like literally months!"

"Feels like years, hehe~"

"Totally does! Hey, just... one more thing before you go. My sister just got back from vacay, bet she would love to see you again too. Maybe tell her about our little plans to light it up?~"

Strix brightens in realization. "Oooh yeah! That'd be awesome! Does she still work at the Library? I for real haven't been in there for, like... ages, hah~"

"Sheesh, it really has been a while, huh. Nah, man, she works in the Infirmary now. Happily working as therapist for the Castle instead of organizing dusty old books."

"Ooh, right! I remember she was getting her schooling done! It's been so long. That's so wild, I was actually in the Infir--" She stops herself, her heart feeling very heavy. Vermillion seems to catch this as well, looking more than just concerned. Feeling her heart pulse in her ears, she fails to think of anything that could divert the topic. She knows this is wrong, she knows this may potentially breaching her cover, but she cannot bring herself to lie again. Swallowing her tension and acting as if she just had to cough, she continues with the truth while attempting to put a happy front. "Excuse me, froggie in the throat~ I-I was actually in the Infirmary not too long ago! When did she come back from vacay?"

"Yesterday, actually! Got all her stuff unloaded and got back to work today. Pretty important assignment from what she said. Not sure if you'll find her around the ward too often, but it doesn't hurt to keep an eye out, right?"

"Totally-doetally! That's super! Sorry for, like, forgetting she was working to be a therapist. I'm not a very good friend for forgetting..."

"Nah, sis, nah, don't stress. Like you said, it's been too long. Kinda feels unreal seeing you all of a sudden. Almost like we're strangers now, eheh." He sighs through his nose, making his smile as genuine as he can. "Give her a visit if your schedule allows it. She'll probably be even more happy to see you than me. Agh," he shakes his head, as if spiting himself. "Sorry, dude, now I'M the one stopping you from doing your thing. I won't keep you any more, don’t wanna get you in trouble."

Strix's smile returns to its former glory. She leans in and hugs him again, and this time, he does not bother reaching in and making it cumbersome. He lets her hug him, rejoicing in it as their armor clanks together. She pulls away and sighs lightly. Before she turns to leave, she waves at the other deadguard stallion who has remained stoic and alert the whole time. Only then does he move to nod at her, acknowledging her respectfully.

Strix begins to trot up the staircase, leaving the two behind her. Her warm smile falls to a gloomy frown, knowing full well she may not be able to go through with anything and everything she wants to.

‎

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Guard Fields ~<
‎ April 11th, Tuesday, 14:20

‎ ‎

Grass crunches under the hoof of the blonde snowy mare. Her icy eyes scan along each troop that runs through the obstacle courses, performs free-form exercise, or runs along the track.

Many of the grunts that spot her are quick to give a salute, which she only acknowledges them with simple nods, something she has always done in the past. Trekking along the field puts her at the front of her office building. Coming up the small staircase and entering through the glass doors, the receptionist inside briefly glances up to see who it is. Upon noticing it is the captain, her focus is fully given to her.

"Captain Winter," Polly politely acknowledges.

"Afternoon, miss Posie."

"I have some papers that came in for you, one direct from the Roundtable and the other from MedOps."

Snowfall walks up to her desk, tilting her head as the unicorn channels her magic to take out a manila folder and levitate it to over. She takes it into her wing and nods, "Thank you."

"My pleasure."

The snowy pegasus takes her leave and returns to her office. She enters and shuts the door behind her, locking it at the knob and moving to her desk. She sits down, sets the folder on the table in front of her, and sighs deeply. She gazes at the folder for a moment, not moving nor thinking. She holds blankness for as long as she finds it comfortable...

... and after about a minute, she decides to reach for it. She opens it, finding fewer documents than she usually sees in these types of ‘random paperwork deliveries.’ She knew already that it was not loaded with files, feeling rather thin, but she still cannot help but feel somewhat relieved. It is a set of files she recognizes immediately, a new patrol list written in ink with information on the front and back of half of the sheets, and a stapled manifest of a complete medical audit.

Confusion stirs in her, as she never requested an audit from the Infirmary. Not finding any immediately useful information from the medical audit, she begins to analyze the patrol list, and sees... nothing out of the ordinary. For now. She continues running through each name, location, and length of posting, and it is all the same as it was with the previous copy.

She squints. A sore thumb sticks out on the back of the last page. The deadguard assignments. She reads an increase of two guards, totaling four over the standard two. But the timeframes of these increased postings only count for... "Tonight?" she whispers to herself. Tonight just before midnight.

The first thought that runs through her head is getting this information to Swirl immediately. She had hoped to get some of her administrative work done right now, as to maybe seem as if she still cares about her job and its annoyances, but she gives herself another excuse to get back up and exit her office. She gives a parting wave to Polly, the receptionist delivers one in return. Snowfall trots the length of the fields and into the Castle again, returning to her robed companion.

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Infirmary ~<
‎ April 11th, Tuesday, 15:09

‎ ‎
‎

She thoroughly remembers what Captain Snowfall had said, that she had already shown her face once here. Despite this, she cannot help but return here just once more to see an old friend again. The opportunity to do so may disappear forever in the relative future, so she deems a small risk worth to meet them again.

Strix enters the Infirmary building using the eastern junction from the Castle, opening metal double doors with push bars to enter the blue and grey facility. Using this entrance puts her in the very center of the complex, right where the receptionist is.

Strix does not meet and greet with the receptionist, instead walks into an argument. It looks like a mare and a stallion are having a heated conversation with the receptionist mare behind the glass-covered cubical. At hearing their exchange, she hides herself behind the corner of the hall.

“This is an outrage!” the stallion, a unicorn of an easy blue coat and dark purple mane and tail, cries angrily. “How are you going to tell me I’m not allowed to see my own daughter!?”

“Again, sir,” the receptionist says sympathetically, “I apologize, but we are not allowing her any visitors at the moment. Orders are strictly from her doctor. If you would like, I can add you to the mailing list once visitation opens.”

“Please,” the mare next to him, also a unicorn who dons a pink coat and a pink-cyan mane and tail, pleads timidly right after. “We understand that she is not in a good condition now, but we know how to treat her better than anypony.”

The receptionist shakes her head, “I cannot apologize enough.”

“This is insanity!” the stallion shouts. “I’m not going to let you stop me from seeing my own daughter! What room is she in!?”

“Sir, please, I would rather not have to call the guards..."

“Oh! So first you take her nurse away, then you threaten to incarcerate her parents! Your politics are the reason Canterlot lost its glory many years ago!”

“W-We’re not angry at you, ma’am,” the unicorn mare starts shyly. “We know you don’t have a say in the matter, it’s… we just, we really want to see our daughter. The aching in our heart won’t go away…”

Hearing this exchange causes Strix’s throat to catch. As their debacle comes to an end and the presumed husband and wife accept defeat, Strix turns and trots further down the hall so they do not see her as they leave. She puts herself in the corner of a connecting hall and hides, keeping one eye on them as they disappear from sight.

After waiting a few seconds and ensuring no one is watching her, she emerges from the corner, trying to keep her motions as natural as possible for any potential staff that may appear out of nowhere. She decides to trot down to the receptionist again, but once more finds herself stopped when she hears a voice speak up to the receptionist.

“Is the Princess still in the room?” the receptionist asks in reply.

She peeks in again, spotting a different unicorn stallion – one of green coloration who speaks in a cocky manner.

“Still there. She will be joining me shortly. Is everything prepared to send her home?”

“Yes, doctor. The carriage is already prepared, we await only Moonlight herself.”

“Great. We’ll send her out after we return. Does the therapist already have her schedule?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“Good. Await for my calling.”

“Of course.”

Strix puckers her lips. She glances around quickly, ensuring no one is watching her. A plan forms in her head. She backs away to the previous corner she used to avoid the husband and wife, reaching into her left saddlebag and retrieving a small metal disk with a red button in the center.

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Swirl's Room ~<
‎ April 11th, Tuesday, 15:17

‎ ‎
‎

With piercing, dilated eyes does Swirl read what is before her. She sits on the large couch while Snowfall sits in the two-cushion. The captain watches her silently, acknowledging the severity of her expression. “Tonight?” Swirl grumbles questioningly.

“Exactly what I said. This shit is sliding down the slope faster than we thought it would.”

“They are increasing the deadguard staffing for one night. They would only do such a thing for inmate relocation. But that would mean—”

“Guys! Guys!”

Their attention is shot to the reverbing voice coming from each of their comms buttons. They retrieve them, Snowfall from her belt pouch, Swirl from her robe’s pocket. Snowfall is the first to hit the button and speak back to Strix. “What is it, sergeant?”

“I see them!” Her voice wobbles amidst the magic, coming as a whisper-shout. “The doctor! And Celestia! I’m following them right now!”

“Where they at, lass?” Bulletpoint’s voice travels right after.

Swirl and Snowfall lock gazes, both with brows lined atop their eyes. Swirl presses the button with her magic, holding it up to her mouth. “They are heading to the Dungeon.”

“Already!?” Bulletpoint cries out. “… Oi! Stop a minute! I see two nurses polishin’ up a carriage! West end of the Gardens!”

“That must be for Moonlight!” Strix deduces. “The doctor was talking about it just now!”

“Everything is moving too fast,” Snowfall growls. She stops to think for a moment, her eyes shifting quickly. “… Bulletpoint, you have some rations in that duffle, right?”

“That I do, cap’n.”

“Good. This is gonna be a tall order to ask, but as soon as you see them transport our guy, you follow them. Keep your button close.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n.”

“Strix, finish your rounds. Keep us posted on anything that changes.”

“Yes, captain!”

Snowfall’s eyes land on the coffee table, where next to the lava lamp sits a particular scroll. She eyes it for a moment, squinting briefly. “Swirl… you and I, we’re gonna see what this scroll is about.”

“Are you sure that is wise, captain?”

“I know for a fact it’s not, but we don’t have the time I thought we did. If it is some sort of trap…” she looks to the rolled teleportation scrolls right next to the ominous letter, “… I think you can bail us out of it.”

Swirl glances to what the captain looks at, putting the pieces together. She nods firmly in acknowledgement. “The relic inside Moonlight’s room. We must retrieve it.”

“That we do. The two guards posted at her room have been reassigned, so we won’t have to bother explaining anything to anypony. You have any good wrapping cloth around here? We can’t go strutting around the Castle with that relic in the open, unless we want the Consortium to put its eyes on us.”

“Indeed I do.”

“Then let’s get moving.”

‎

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Dungeon ~<
‎ April 11th, Tuesday, 15:29

‎ ‎

It has been about three days without a semblance of proper sleep. He feels it. It is making him nearly delusional, but rage and desperation haunt him, and he still fails to rest ever yet.

Eyes closed, arms and legs hanging off the edges of the uncomfortable bed, he still cannot find the solace of sleep. His eyes feel like dried up raisins behind his eyelids, he prays that he will not have to open them any time soon.

Ck-CLACK!

"God fucking damn it…"

He spitefully keeps his eyes closed as the sounds of many marching steps come his way. They soon arrive to his cell, he already expected them too. Frustratingly enough, he knows for certain there are other inmates in other reaches of the Dungeon, but they do not seem to be getting the very special treatment he is.

He assumes it is time. Strange. He thought he heard Doctor Asshole say that it should be ‘tomorrow night,’ but they are here already. Certainly did not feel like twenty-four hours. They might be here early.

All the same to him. Time for the ball to bounce.

“Please retrieve him.”

He knows exactly who’s voice that was. "Fuckin' bitch."

“Hey!” the deep growl of a stallion guard shouts. “Get up!”

Crimson remains still with his eyes closed.

“I said get up!”

Sticking to his spite, he does not move.

“… Get him.”

These words are followed by clacking steps and rustling armor. Crimson discreetly opens one eye to glare down at the bars. He sees roughly five to six regular guards and another five mages. Celestia stands behind the regular guards, the mages are at her sides. Two guards work to retrieve their keys and unlock the bar door.

They get it open, all five of the regular guards march one by one to his sleeping form to disturb his peace.

"That’s right, come here. Come get me…"

They clear the door and surround him promptly. Three prepare their weapons while two carefully approach him.

"A little closer…"

“Get up, prisoner! Your lack of cooperation will serve to bring you pain and discomfort!”

He remains motionless.

“… You have three seconds, prisoner! When your count of grace has run through, force will be enacted upon you! Three!”

Crimson’s barely-opened eye scans through the force.

“Two!—Hrorh!” “Rruh!”

Gasps fill the room when the apparently sleeping man lunges forward faster than they could expect. He dives towards the cell door, slamming his palms atop the helmets of the two closest guards, and propelling himself off of them while simultaneously shoving them onto the ground.

At the same time the guards kiss the floor with powerful slams, Crimson bullets in the air like a plank through the opened cell door towards Celestia. His animalistic eyes glare at her as he cocks his right fist back. He pistons it like a machine into her face.

Despite the clockwork reactions of the mages, their attempts to channel their magic in time to catch and stop his flying form are too late.

“Hnh!” Celestia’s pink orbs turn to pricks. Her horn sparks and surges her powerful magic to blink her out of the line of fire. She manages to teleport herself a few meters up the stairs away from the punch, barely a coat hair away of being struck by death.

The guards and mages panic, but find instant relief when their leader saves herself. The five mages, empowered by emotion and anger, all grip Crimson’s form before his fist slams into the wall behind where Celestia stood. He is suspended in the air, he grits in fury and being unable to move at all.

“BASTARD!” “ENSURE HE’S DETAINED!” “RAHH!” The guards flock to the man and prepare their weapons, ready to butcher him into pieces. The two he bounced off of are adjusting their helmets and reacclimating themselves from the stun.

“CEASE!” Celestia’s voice booms much louder than usual, almost unnaturally so. The guards instantly adhere to her, stopping in their tracks before even one blade touches the man. “I am unharmed.... and he must be taken alive.” Though she is truthful that she was not hurt by him, her quickly beating heart and slight headache from panic-channeling such a difficult spell sits against her words. She looks at the man despondently.

“Forgive us, princess!” A guard calls for the group. “Should we get him transported now?”

Celestia continues staring at him for a moment longer. Crimson keeps his eyes forward, pinning them angrily at the wall. Emotions mix wrongfully inside of her. She knows she cannot overtly sympathize for him, but... “… Yes. Board him immediately. High Barter’s ponies are already on their way.”

“Yes, princess.” This acknowledgement comes from all five guards. With a bow from each of them, they command the mages to follow behind them with Crimson in tow.

They march up the stairs towards the exit of the Dungeon. Gargantuan steel doors with all sorts of engravings act as the barrier to the rest of the Castle. These doors are opened by two earth stallions wearing a unique mix of armor and cloth, giving them an executioner-like appearance.

The massive doors groan open when they handle iron cranks at each side of the wall. As the doors come open, two other guards stand on the opposing side, partisans drawn as if anticipating conflict.

The golden-armored guards step through the grand archway and continue to guide the mages with their prisoner. The points of the drawn weapons from the outside deadguard follow the floating man like sentries. Once the doors need to be closed, these stallions lower their partisans and begin to crank the levers on their side. The deadguard inside the Dungeon draw their partisans in return, and keep them drawn until the doors come closed.

Crimson is only able to move his eyes around. Being in this incapacitated position only serves to feed his spite against everything around him. He notes the exit to the Dungeon is simply a path to more stairs which rise up far and wide. They appear to be at the very base of the Castle, perhaps underground, but it is difficult to gauge right now.

As they continue to ascend these grand stairs, his assumption was right. They were underground, and through the exit of another imposing golden double-door, they finally reach the first floor. Swerved and passed through the halls, they exit the Castle from the front entrance.

He remembers taking this entrance with Moonlight many months ago. The stone path surrounded by grass that leads to the giant marble walls which surround Canterlot Castle. Passing through these walls puts them into the city.

The ponies of Canterlot moseying through its streets all stop when they witness this sight. Crimson can barely get a good look at the ponies who gawk at him, but he knows. He knows that they look at him with disgust, a completely diabolical contrast to the overbearing esteem and fantasy they had held for him when he was once ‘the angel’ of their dreams.

He could care less. He feels he should have done more. When he and Dahlia first visited Canterlot, he should have done more. A single punch and a kick was not enough. He should have rioted. He should have taken Dahlia and fucking ran. He would have avoided all of this…

He is soon taken to the train station. It seems that the train they are destined to take is already here. It looks like a regular Equestrian train, the same one he took with Dahlia and Moonlight some time ago. But there is something special he notices about this one in specific. There are carts at the tail end of the line made purely of a dark metal material that come off as very unfriendly.

No passengers come off the train, no other bodies wait to board. It is only them, a squad of Castle troops and their on prisoner waiting to ride the train to eternity. It is as if someone or something waits to confirm the identities of this group before the train cart doors hiss open. They board promptly, barely keeping from hitting Crimson’s head on the top of the entryway.

They promptly turn and walk down the first cart, taking the far door to enter the next cart. They continue to take him cart after cart until the warm ambers and yellows of the passenger boarding turns to the blacks and blues of a cold steel box. In this box, there are many cages formed exactly like the ones he saw in the human fighting ring – they even have the cloth tarps draped over them like they did before.

He is thrown into one of the vertical cages, one that accommodates for his height but for nothing else. His back slams against the cold bars as the door to the cage is slammed on his face - the magic lock engages itself with a light blue hue. At the loud slam of the cage, primal shouts and growls resonate from other cages.

More humans.

The mages look visibly satisfied at no longer needing to channel their magic. The guards share a distasteful glare at the man. None have anything to say to him, their judgmental looks are enough. They collectively turn and file out of the train cart before they close it, leaving him in the isolation of his cramped cage.

The other humans continue to bark and scream, showing no sign of letting up.

With only enough space in his cage to crouch, he does so, squinting blankly in front of him. The train is felt jostling lightly. It begins to move. He knows not where he goes or who he will encounter... but he promises them plenty of hell.

‎
‎ ‎

~ Canterlot Castle, the Grand Halls ~<
‎ April 11th, Tuesday, 15:51

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

No one is the wiser to Snowfall or Swirl’s path. They have maneuvered through the Castle and obtained the relic from Moonlight’s vacant room. Not even a remnant of the visceral scene Swirl had seen remains. All looks as it was before the incident, but the feeling the room gives is far from normal.

With the clothed-up relic rested on her back, Snowfall guides Swirl. None of the Guards have bothered to stop her or question her, in fact, each one of them still salutes and holds her to their pride.

It is perfect, Snowfall muses. None of them yet know what she or her team is doing. If she can help it, they will never know.

She reaches the fields by taking the back archway, wandering into the Gardens. Many beautiful plants, trees, finely trimmed shrubbery, and tamed vines are set throughout this natural landscape. The waterfall can be seen not too far out.

She walks to the river the waterfall forms. Taking a small bridge that spans across it, she winds up in the pear orchard on the other side. She enters the shade of many trees and hides under it, swerving between trunks and bark. She eventually greets the wall of the mountain that travels up into the clouds.

Their destination is the waterfall just along this earthen wall. Snowfall and Swirl keep their trek casual and shrewd, ensuring to keep an eye out for any visitors or guardponies the Gardens may have at this time of day. A patrol or two spots them, perhaps a few interested eyes ogling into the captain’s business, though they say nothing and keep on their way.

Once close enough, the rushing water drowns their hearing. Snowfall remains acute, ensuring no one is watching her give intrigue to the waterfall. She then sticks close to the rocky walls of the mountain, peering her eyes just behind the water. It is hard to see, the water makes it unclear that anything is behind it, but there is a faint sign of a possible clearing. A space where one may stand behind the fall and not get wet.

Snowfall looks back to Swirl and nods, the unicorn returns one as well. Taking advantage of being in the clear, they kick into dashes and leap just behind the waterfall, barely getting wet in the process. They land one by one in this rocky clearing behind the water. The sun's rays wobble and dance inconsistently on the walls here, giving it a somewhat surreal air.

The two of them glance around, attempting to find anything of interest. Nothing looks obvious. They spread around the clearing and scan every inch.

"Captain!" Swirl shouts over the waterfall. Snowfall witnesses her crouched down while nudging a slab of rock that is almost perfectly flushed with the ground. She channels her magic and grasps a very small gap in this discreet cover and the actual floor, pushing it in and up. It reveals a ladder that climbs down into a hidden room.

Snowfall and Swirl give each other an unspoken acknowledgement to descend together and scope the room.

They come down the hatch one after the other, Snowfall taking the lead by flying down and Swirl using her magic to ease her fall into the hole. Snowfall lands on the cement floor first, then freezes. Swirl comes down next to her, assessing the room, and gasps.

Both mares have stopped completely. They are witness to a disgruntled tan pegasus mare with her back against the farthest wall. She holds in her trembling hooves something that appears to be a gun, looking about ready to fire it.

The room is silent, save for the muted white noise of the waterfall.

"Let's not be too hasty here," Snowfall calmly states.

"You better start talking! Fast!" Dahlia shouts in return.

"My name's Snowfall." She puts her hoof to her breastplate. "This is Swirl," she then points to the mare next to her, who remains unspeaking and serious.

"That's not what I meant! Why are you here!? How did you find this place!?" She levels the dart flinger, getting a sight at Snowfall's face.

"Put the gun down, we're on your side. Crimson, you know him." Dahlia's eyes widen, completely giving her away. Snowfall uses this to push forward. "We're trying to rescue him."

"Fuck off, 'captain!' You guardponies and robes are lying sacks of shit! I'll kill both of you!"

Though her heart pounds heavily, Swirl remains firm. “Our mutual friend sent us here so we could finish the delivery." Dahlia's ears perk up, thinking that she might be understanding what she says, but still takes in confusion.

“Here,” Snowfall takes the package from her back and into her hoof. "Easy, alright?" she attempts to soothe Dahlia. "I'm gonna set this down. You open it and tell me what you see."

"Hurry up, then! Before my hoof slips!"

Snowfall nods twice calmly. She walks diagonally to the left, heading towards the first bunk. She carefully reaches her hoof out and sets the cloth bundle onto the bed, next to a certain stack of clothing. She then backpedals, returning to Swirl’s side near the entrance.

Dahlia keeps the gun aimed unsteadily as she walks towards the bed. She glances between the wrapped item and them. She extends her left wing to take control of the gun as her two forehooves undo the white string. The cloth comes apart by itself when the string stops supporting it, revealing the belt inside. Her eyes glimmer and widen. She then looks to Snowfall with a grim expression. "Tell me what's going on."

"You wanna put the gun down first?" the captain passively retorts.

Dahlia considers it until she abides. She stops aiming it at them but keeps it in her wing.

Swirl uses this moment to channel her magic and move the slab of cement back onto the entrance, drowning out the noise of the waterfall out almost completely. Once hearing becomes much easier and tensions have halted, Snowfall begins to explain. "You might already know this, but Crimson just got himself incarcerated a few days ago."

"Yeah, I know," Dahlia grunts. "And you put him in there."

"Not without a reason. He assassinated a Royal Researcher."

"He what!?” She nearly drops the pistol from shock. “Crimson, what the-- rrgh! Why the fuck would he do that!?"

"It was not without just calling," Swirl interjects. "The stallion he killed was a Black Horseshoe, one who was attempting to rape another member of the Royal Research team. More specifically, the Head Researcher."

"... You serious?"

"Very. Magnifying Glass. He was the Royal Researcher Crimson slew. He forced himself non-consensually upon Head Researcher Moonlight Wish, and that is likely what caused the murder to happen."

"The question is," Snowfall starts, "how did Crimson know when to show up when he did?"

Dahlia's defensive wall has yet to crumble. "... How do I know you aren't just trying to get info out of me? How do I know you won't arrest me and take the relics with you?"

"We know you don't have a reason to trust us, but... I guess what I can say is that, we care a lot for him. He served in the Royal Guard Elite with us. We know he's a good guy, and we also know he acts rash with things that matter to him most. Even though we’re fitted in uniform, we plan on doing to the Consortium what it did to us. The terms that bound me to the Guard were broken after what happened to Crimson. I could just quit and sit around all day, hoof in my six, but I’d rather even the playing field."

Her alibi is visibly sticking with Dahlia. Her bullshit radar scans both of them, but alerts her of none of them. "... Snowfall, huh? And Swirl?"

"And you are?" Snowfall asks the tan pegasus.

"... Wisp," she gruffs.

Swirl's eyes lighten in surprise. "You are the... treasure hunter, correct? You have brought several enchanted artifacts to Canterlot. That name belongs to you?"

"Yeah, it does.”

“It’s also the same name kept in our jail records,” Snowfall adds. “For breaking and entering the Castle. Very ballsy of you to be here again after that stunt.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me. So what? Going from arresting me to working with me? I still don't really believe any of you."

"If we really wanted to arrest you again, we'd have done it already. No reason to set up a play like this if we just wanted to interrogate you."

Dahlia supposes she speaks the truth, knowing the Guard's tendencies. "Alright, whatever, enough of this shit. Let's get down to business. What brought you all here? How'd you find this place?"

"That’s the part that’s got us stumped. We don't know for sure. But if whoever it was led us to you, and you've got hooks with Crimson, we're reeling this in. So tell me, are you working with him?" The tan pegasus squints at her. "This isn't a trick question, Wisp."

"What if I said I wasn't?"

"Then we'd be confused, and wonder why we were brought here. Crimson wanted the relics for no reason, and he killed a Researcher for shits and giggles. You're just some pony hiding in a secret box behind the Castle."

Dahlia considers her words and sighs her tension out. "Alright, I see your point. I feel like I don’t need to say this, but yeah, I'm working with him. Not just him, but with the Horseshoes too."

Expressions aghast take the two mares of the Elite. "You're working with the Horseshoes?" Swirl inquires.

"We are, as in, both of us."

Snowfall visibly ponders this information. "We're farther behind the loop than I thought. It would be great if you could fill us in."

"Hmm," Dahlia hums. "And what's in it for me if I tell you?"

"An invitation of trust and comradeship. We won't just be ensuring our friend’s safety, but getting your partner back too. And if you could care less about Crimson, you still need those relics."

"Hmh…" Dahlia tucks her chin, throwing her eyes between both of the Consortium defectors before her, “… If you try two-timing me, good fucking luck. I’m watching both of you like a hawk.”

Snowfall smiles. "Great. Glad we could come to an agreement."

“Psh,” Dahlia dismisses her rudely before she crawls onto the bed and sits on the edge, letting out a sigh. "So you want in on the loop, right? Then sit your royal powdered-asses down. There's a lot of shit to unpack." The two of the Elite team focus intently on what she has to say. "It started about two weeks ago, in the Slums..."

The Crown of Old

~ Equestria, Grey Company Train ~<
April 11th, Tuesday, 18:03

‎

The cages sat about the deep black train cart rattle and tremble as the locomotive itself travels. Crimson has been sitting and waiting for his destination to arrive, with no telling signs whether he is close or not. The other humans have since silenced themselves.

Being cooped up in this cramped cage wears away at his sanity. Sitting becomes a chore. So instead, he stands up. Once on his feet, he gazes past the bars of his entrapment. He is somewhat grateful that they did not put a cloth over his cage. He feels it would have made this trip more horrid than it already is. He can at least look around the cart and see what the others cannot. Not that there is anything interesting anywhere. It is all dull, blackened metal, with different sized cages that are covered head to toe with cloth.

A long, cold trail still. He runs through his mind at random topics to keep himself busy...

... nothing of interest at all.

"Bored, partner?"

Crimson recoils and slams his back against the cage. Luckily the humans were not very interested in the abrupt pang of metal. The visage from before suddenly steps into view to jumpscare him. The visage looks mildly satisfied at getting the reaction he wanted.

"Man, piss off," Crimson dismissively glares away.

"Got'cha good."

"What're you doin' here now? I ain't call you."

"You did."

Crimson does acknowledge that he thought of the visage in the brief moment he was scanning for things to think about, but keeps the fact to himself. Not likely that it matters since it is... well, him. "So you’re here to piss me off, right?"

"Oh yeah. Here to make you suffer, boy."

"Then make it quick, don’t got the energy fer this right now."

The visage grips the bars, peering at Crimson from the liberty of outside the cage. His judgmental eyes and cheeky smile scrutinize him up and down. "Still locked up like the animal you are. Really don't like freedom, do you?"

"Here we go," Crimson huffs and reclines back on the cage, crossing his arms.

"Always gettin' caught. Chained up. Leashed. Not the most respectable man."

"Yeah, because gettin' chained up is somethin' I really fuckin' enjoy."

"Obviously. Yer predicament now is more than a coincidence. You really blew yer chance here in Equestria. Here I thought our unification months ago would'a gotten the mud outta yer ears, but it didn't change a goddamn thing. All because you were too fuckin' thick-headed to stop and help yourself. You didn't wanna to listen to me. You didn't wanna let yer vendettas die. Now YOU'RE gonna die. You're takin' yer spite to the grave."

"I ain't outta the ring yet. As long as I'm breathin', I'm fightin'."

"It's gonna take a miracle to get us outta this bind. Face it, partner. We're fucked. Wherever it is we're bein' shipped off to, it's the end of the road. If we couldn't get five magic ants off our backs to bash Celestia's head in, we ain't takin' on the ant-hill."

Conceding to the reality of his situation, he lets out a drawn out breath of remorse. "... Great."

"The sad part is, I'm sure we could. If we had worked together, we wouldn't be in this shithole to begin with. And if we somehow still ended up here, we'd kick dirt over the ant-hill and call it a day.

"Very proud words comin' from a ghost belongin' to a dead man."

"That's just it. You ain't dead yet."

"You just said--"

The visage waves his hand scoldingly, "Aaay, ah-ah. Shut it. You ain't dead yet. Listen to me." The man glares at his visage with spite but remains silent. "You've made so many mistakes back home I lost count. But when we wound up here in Equestria, I knew the exact moment you made a choice that told me we weren't gonna make it out. The exact moment you fucked everythin' up. You know where? That gun in the air that fired out the start of our shit-show?" Crimson's bitter front looks away, simply shrugging as an act of defiance. "C'mon, take a guess." Crimson's brows furrow further. "Just one."

The man droops his shoulders, letting his arms uncross and fall limply. "Fuckin', I dunno? After Yakyakistan?"

"Not even close. Wanna guess again?"

"No."

The visage sneers. "Answer's obvious. Back when you first met Dahlia. That little 'plan' of hers?"

"That shit. I vocalized my disapproval loud 'n clear."

"You did, but what did you do?"

Crimson rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, that's right. You went with it anyway. And it keeps happenin', again and again and again. You play the fool. You don't let what you are truly are shine through LIKE YOU SHOULD. Do you know how insane that is?"

"Insane enough to make me talk to my belittling ghost."

"You call it belittling, I call it a breath of fresh air. You're finally talkin' to me. Thinkin’ about me. Whether you wanna admit it or not, you’re selfless fer all the wrong reasons. Bet'cha can't even remember the last time we spoke."

"Other than yesterday? Like you said, it was after liftin' the rock at Moonlight's." At mentioning her name, his heart pounds in his ears. It seems like the anger of speaking to his visage made him forget of his technical failure. The names which come to the forefront of his mind slip out of his mouth. "... Moonlight... Dahlia..." His eyes glitter and squint at the bars of his cage. "... Viola."

"Don't think about folks you'll never see again. You caused this, now suck it up." It takes everything inside Crimson to not shout profanities at the top of his lungs at his insensitive visage... but he manages not to. Because he knows that it is correct. "Now quit distractin' yerself. I mean, the real last time we talked, like we are now. You remember?"

He finds everything so pointless. But nevertheless, for whatever reason, he slogs through depressive, self-loathing thoughts anyway. He traces back in his mind, recounting the steps he has taken from now. "... Before the fight at home."

"And what happened?"

"We argued."

"Like a man and his wife. You remember why you argued with me?"

"'Cause I said I wouldn't use my Arch."

"There we go. You wouldn't use it like the stubborn piece of shit you are.”

“We already talked about this, can you just fuckin’ drop it?”

“Nah, nah, because you know what, you got lucky back there - golden horseshoe over a four leaf clover lucky. You didn’t wanna use yer Arch. All that fightin', and fer what? To get killed and let Viola lose the last of her family? What kinda stupid thinkin' is that."

"I already told you why, I ain’t repeatin’ myself."

"I’m genuinely at a loss, partner. You really think a dead guy gives a shit if he saw yer gold or not? I hate him as much as you do. Literally. But you're dumb as shit fer lettin' that vendetta get the best of you. Once his sorry hide hit the dirt, none of it would'a mattered. Where would his satisfaction be six feet under? Dead. With him. Yet you somehow thought keepin' it hidden would make a positive difference. Now you're fixin' to join him."

"I don't give a fuck. The only thing I was thinkin' about was how good it felt beatin' his face into paste."

"That so? What about how good it felt bein' sent here to Equestria? That felt good, right? Abandonin' Viola like you did?"

"I didn't fuckin' abandon her! I got nabbed by that bitch who refuses to show her face again!"

"I’m glad you brought her up. It’s the reason I’m talkin’ to you about this again. Somethin’ I didn’t get to tell you before our visitors showed up to our home. A sweet little piece of advice you could'a known had you used yer Arch that night. If you’d’a let yer gift flourish and win you that fight like it were no one's business."

Crimson squints at the visage, waiting for him to continue.

"You could'a felt that hand. You could'a felt it tryin'a grab you and pull you away. She blindsided the shit outta you, all 'cuz you're too stupid to let go."

"What're you tryin'a say?"

"Can't you put two 'n two together? If you'd'a used yer Arch that night, you wouldn't have had to knock on Death's door. Yer gift would'a been coarsin' through yer veins, and when Fate tried pullin' you? You would'a felt it. I mean, you did. I did. I felt her grab us ‘n tug. But we were too weak to do anythin’. Too weak to even think about it. You would'a felt her tryin'a take you from Viola. Your souls would'a clashed... 'n you could'a stopped her."

Crimson's front takes realization to his words, his pupils slowly dilate in a mixture of anger and despair. “How are you so sure of that? You’re just talkin’ outta yer ass, ‘n it’s pissin’ me off.”

"Good. Exactly what I’m here to do. Now you answer this: what have I to gain by bullshittin’ you? Me? Lying to myself? I’m here because that’s all you’ve ever done. You’ve never manned up and faced the ugly truth. Equestria would'a never been our problem. We would'a been home, with our sister. We would'a been happy. Happier, at least."

Crimson's teeth clench, tighter and tighter as the visage speaks.

"Could'a cleaned up the house the next morn while Viola made breakfast. Go into town and get her that new sewin' kit she wanted. Ah well, right?"

"I'll fuckin' kill you."

"Twist yer own neck then, stupid ass. You fucked up. At home, AND here in Equestria. You abandoned Viola. You gave Moonlight a goddamn heart attack. And who knows what Dahlia's doin' right now. There ain't no smile on any of those girls' faces, I can tell you that much. You ruined yer life, James. Congratulations."

The emotion inside him begins to boil uncontrollably. His eyes begin to shimmer with gold, pulsing on and off like a flickering light. If it was not enough taking the verbal abuse of his visage, voices begin to murmur to him from a plane beyond – something he always heard as a child. The voices are incomprehensible, yet he understands the energy and emotions the cacophony conveys. The same voices which spoke to him when he returned to his Rift for the first time many months ago.

The voices… are almost comforting.

The visage feels this, and it makes him smirk. "I just remembered somethin'. Viola needed them menthol drops, you recall? After she cleaned the attic and caught that dust-bug? She was coughin' pretty bad for a while. Weren't able to get those fer her. I'm hopin' she managed by herself."

The man builds a profuse sweat, feeling his body burn in emotional agony as the voices get louder. He nearly chokes trying to get pitiful words out. "She was fine in the Rift, you bastard. She didn't say nothin' 'bout bein' sick."

"How stupid can you be, partner? Think she'd wanna worry you by sayin' she's sick? When has she ever gone outta her way to tell you? It's like you forgot you've always gotta nag her 'n bring her things without her permission. We don't know if the Rift shows what she look like in the flesh. All we know, she could'a been bed ridden. Just like ma' was. Imagine how much worse her sickness could'a got after seein' you nearly buy the farm? All that stress and heartache? Not to mention the fact she saved yer ragged ass from the edge of death itself."

The whispers turn to speaking, coming from deep inside. "She what!?"

"Use yer fuckin' head. You ain't show up to Equestria ripe 'n dandy from one night to the next. Viola hurt herself patchin' up your sorry hide. You were a direct burden to her by doin' what you did. Right before you abandoned her."

Crimson's eyes have become solid gold, glowing furiously under the darkness of the train cart. Tears begin to form at the corners, though he forces them not to fall.

"Funny. That vendetta with the Spurs made you act rash. Momma got sick… you weren’t there nearly enough to take care of her. You kept leavin’, tellin’ ‘er, ‘don’t worry mama, I’ll kill those bastards fer what they did.’ You didn’t use yer Arch. You could’a made quick work of ‘em had you did. You could’a had more time to take care of mama and Viola. But mama passed away… and it’s yer fault. Now Viola was sick, and you gone and done it again. … You know what that means, right?"

“Shut yer dog mouth!” he lashes out at himself, failing to contain his emotion.

"... Viola's all alone because of you. It'll be all yer fault..."

"SHUT UP!"

"... if she's passed away too."

The voices in his head suddenly stop. All goes gruelingly silent.

He hears only one thing, something that sounds painfully like the beautiful timbre of his sister. “… Let go.”

"MRRAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

An absolute scandal occurs when the other humans hear this harrowed warcry. They begin to kick their cages and scream.

His voice resonates and overlaps itself, his golden wings and halo manifest from the aether onto his body. Tears run rampantly from the glowing sockets of light that are his eyes. He grabs two bars of the cage and pries them apart without difficulty - the magic that forces them together sparkles, spackles and fissures violently at being unable to keep the cage intact.

The visage takes three slow, sleazy, smirking steps back, admiring the Arch Angel that finally demonstrated himself. It glances between collar and his face, seeing absolutely no disruption. "... Bout fuckin' time."

Crimson looks down at his trembling hands, where the veins which run to his palms gently glow with golden essence. Everything is attuned, his senses are keen. He then snaps a powerful hand to the collar around his neck, ready to rip it to shreds.

"Stop."

"Hn!?" His golden sockets glare at his visage again.

"Don't destroy it yet. Keep it on. For now." The two share a second or two of quiet staring, causing the visage to chuckle. "Look at you. You look like a man who's realize how bad he's fucked up. And admitted he was wrong. ... If only you'd done this sooner." The visage slowly shakes his head, donning disappointment. Still, he smiles genuinely. "It's a good thing I don't wanna give up on you, or else we'd really be fucked. ... There might be some hope fer you after all." The visage quits smirking, donning a stern, serious front. "Now listen t'me. We went from completely screwed to havin' a rough chance, so here's the plan. While that shout you did felt damn good, them Horseshoe fucks will be comin' over to check out what that was. We ain't got much time left before they do. Fix the fuckin' bars so you don't out yerself. And don't destroy the collar, it'll tip them off."

Crimson looks at the two bars he bent completely out of shape. He pants still, his breathing echoes. He reaches out and grasps the bars as he did before, bending them back into their original position as best he can. It takes some comically small adjustments to the sturdy metal to get it to sit right, but it looks passable. Though, he will not be able to remove the indentations his fingers left on the bars. He sincerely hopes they do not notice that.

"Good enough. Alright. Now. As great as it'd be to see how you can butcher a train full of bad guys, let's play this smart. They're takin' us to be executed by higher-ups. That means we'll get a good look at the fucks runnin' this whole operation. Least, that's what I'm assumin' since they wanted us by name. So here's what I'm thinkin'. ... You listenin'?"

"Yes," he responds simply and sternly. The vibrations of his voice are like low-growling thunder.

"You've got yer wings and halo back. That's good. I'm positive you'll be needin' 'em to get the hell outta the fire. But let's stare into the pit. If we can't find an opportunity to kill the heads of the Horseshoes, we'll at least know what they look like. What we do to get away from their camp of operations can be cooked up on the spot. After this shit-circus if over and you get a chance, jump into the Rift. Cross yer fingers that Viola’s still there. Even if she's not, we'll keep trying. ... You still remember how to get there, right?"

"Mm," he nods once.

Hoofsteps are heard approaching the door of their cart. Both Crimson and his visage look towards the sound before focusing on each other again. "Once this is all said and done, find the girls. And make sure you've got a damn good apology ready to go."

The visage vanishes from one blink to the next.

Crimson squats down swiftly, relieving his body rapidly of his power. His halo and wings twinkle away into stardust, his eyes cease their burning and return to their hazel color in a second. It feels surreal to him – not one ounce of strain is put upon his body. His features came and went with his emotion, and not a hint of struggle was placed upon his mortal form.

He wipes his eyes quickly with his sleeve, getting the tears off of them just before the train cart door comes open.

Two bulky unicorn stallions wearing black and dark green suits barge in, looking around with gritted teeth. "Fuck's goin' on in 'ea!?" the first one shouts. The humans riot as they come in, screeching and howling wildly. The two stallions ensure that all cages are closed and proper, scanning them one by one until they reach Crimson's. They both glare at the man.

"Heh, the special delivery, I see," the second stallion comments brazenly.

"Ye, 'n it looks like some fuck-head forget to cover 'em up."

"Prolly why these stink-asses are cryin' so much."

The first stallion channels his orange magic to grab the cloth that was left on the floor next to Crimson's cage. He covers him up completely, making the inside pitch black. Crimson’s lips come apart as he grits his teeth in anger once they cover his cage. "Now keep it down, ya' shitbrains!"

The humans continue to scream bloody murder as the two stallions angrily take their leave and shut the cart door.

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Hidden Horseshoe Enclosure ~<
‎ April 11th, Tuesday, 18:01

‎

Snowfall holds her comms button close to her lips, pressing it. “Repeat that, BP, you’ve got heavy wind.”

“Train started movin’!” the stallions voice comes mostly drowned out by background noise. “Tailin’ it roight now! Headed on the express tracks south!”

“Copy that, BP. Strix, anything on your end?”

“Everything looks normal, captain,” the pegasus whispers into the button.

“Understood. BP, fly high. Don't let them see you. Use the clouds if you need to.”

“Yes, cap’n!”

Snowfall looks to Dahlia next, giving her a very serious glare. “So you really think they’ll know where they’re headed?”

“They’ll have a better idea than any of us, that’s for sure.”

“And if they become confrontational?”

“Trust me, he won’t. Just let me do the talking, alright?" Dahlia asserts, standing before the transponder machine as she looks back to the Elite team. The two give her acknowledging nods. "Good. Remember, they're not going to like the idea of a bunch of strangers going into their lair, but they be more than happy once they see the relic, so Swirl. Have it ready."

"Yes, ma'am," she replies, having the wrapped clothed rested on her back.

"Alright. Anything else before we go?” The two mares before her shake their heads once more. “Alright, let’s do this," Dahlia states as she swerves to the side of the transponder and pulls the heavy lever down with a grunt. The machine bellows as magic starts to spark and spin inside it. The two of the Elite watch this fascinating device come to life, especially the admiring eyes of Swirl. "You'll get really dizzy, so just try not to fall over." She says this as she faces the standing platform. She trots onto it, her entire being is covered in magic.

FWZoOOOM!

The Elite cover their eyes briefly. They look again and see the platform empty and ready for the next rider.

Snowfall trots up bravely, internally a little intimated, but does not stop until she stands on the platform. She turns and faces Swirl, who looks very skeptical. She simpers at her companion confidently, if only to boost her morale.

FWZoOOOM!

‎ ‎
‎

~~~<

‎
‎ ‎

"Woh!" Snowfall staggers, her helmet nearly coming off. She holds its up and steadies herself, assessing her surroundings hastily. Her focus is shattered once when the transponder beams Swirl in behind her, with the unicorn grunting and stumbling. Snowfall then assesses Dahlia standing before a very displeased stallion wearing a lab coat. This stallion bounces his critical eyes between her and Swirl, before he stops at the tan pegasus next to him.

"You have made a grave mistake, Wisp," Kleid grumbles. "Did you really think bringing a small team of Consortium troops would be enough to stop me? This facility?"

Dahlia throws him an incredulous look. "Dude, no, what are you talking about? These two are on our side."

"LIES!" Kleid spastically shouts into Dahlia's face as he looms over her.

Dahlia gives the Elite team a very unenthused look as they do to her. Dahlia pushes the fuming stallion away gently. "Kleid, calm down. Look," she throws her chin towards the two. The yellow unicorn levitates the cloth package on her back towards him.

Kleid looks at this present with hate. "What is this!? A bomb!? Are you trying to THREATEN me!?"

"A bomb? I'm right next to you. If it was a bomb, I'd be blowing myself up too. Kleid, just open it."

Kleid growls and snatches the package out of Swirl's magic with his own. He brings it up to his face, unties the white string, and extends the cloth to reveal-- "The belt!" he gasps happily.

"Yeah, the belt," Dahlia repeats unenthused.

Kleid beams widely at the belt, admiring its material and make. He then freezes briefly, staring off at seemingly nothing. "Ah, I should turn off the silent alarm, shouldn't I?"

"The what?"

Kleid's magic channels just a little more vibrantly, but seemingly nothing happens. He glances very discreetly to the lab's window, where over twenty armored mages were rushing from down the hall on the other side. They stop, squint, and slowly back away before anyone notices them. "Nothing. Say, who are your friends there if not Consortium agents aiming to throw their lives away in a futile attack on foreign soil?"

"You guys wanna tell 'em?" Dahlia offers to the team.

"Your assessment is right, we’re Consortium staff," Snowfall speaks. "But we’re doing all of this under wraps after the, uh..." Snowfall raises a brow at Dahlia, who nods discretely in return, "... the 'human' was captured. It’s complicated, but I’m sure somepony such as yourself doesn’t need the details. Consortium government basically told all of Canterlot, 'hey, the Horseshoes got us by the tail hairs. Deal with it or suffer the consequences.'"

"Ah, I see," Kleid states in understanding. "The veil has finally fallen. I suspect there will be a few more of your kind, but many more that will still fight for the Consortium. It goes without saying, but you two have chosen a very difficult path."

"We know. Like I said, we’re on the hush, and we’re aiming to keep it that way."

"A wise decision! You understand then that if you caught, you no longer have the sustainment of the Consortium, and equally you are not welcome in the Horseshoes. By my understanding, you have chosen to side with your 'human'... Crimson Sky. The side in between."

The ears from every pony around perk up. Dahlia purses her lips in distaste. "You already know?"

"But of course. I counted both of you as MIA once our Eyes brought back the news. You hadn't returned, so I assumed the worst. Now that you are here, why didn't you report your failure to me, Wisp? And more importantly..." he tilts his head at Dahlia, taking one step closer to her, "... why did you not report the death of my brother?"

Everyone in the room fills with stupefaction.

"... Magnifying?" Swirl accidentally vocalizes her thought.

"Yes, indeed, Magnifying Glass," Kaleidoscope nods indifferently to the yellow unicorn. "The curtains are open, there is nothing left to hide from you. He was my older brother, tasked to infiltrate the Royal Research team and report on their development. He ensured that Canterlot's growth would remain far behind the Horseshoe's - our technology and magic must remain superior at all times. He did well enough, dallying in forgery and purposefully failing at techniques to taint data. Though, he was unusually obsessed with the Head Researcher of Canterlot. Too obsessed. His reports and tasks were second to her, and it was infuriating to all of us. His obsession became his demise. An inevitable outcome."

Swirl darts her eyes small distances in racing muse. "And Celestia knew all along..."

"Of course she did! She condoned it! As long as Magnifying was allowed to be the pawn, the Horseshoes would provide revenue protection for Consortium officials. Including herself. From what the charter agreement wrote, I believe Celestia was paid enough money from this scandal alone to fund the construction of a new major city. Though, I haven't seen any new cities come about. I couldn't be sure what she did with that money."

"Hmh," Swirl grunts. "How worthless."

"Far from worthless, my well-spoken defector. She is very, very useful to the Horseshoes."

"Kleid, you know what's happening then!" Dahlia interjects. "I need help rescuing Crimson! We got you the relics, I think it's fair if you help us out here! Look, they just put him on a train and are taking him south. You might know where they’re headed! C’mon, Kleid, work your magic here!"

Kleid becomes deathly serious from one moment to the next. He looks down at the artifact he now possesses. He rubs his lips side to side, taking deep contemplation. "You know not what you ask, Wisp. If you seriously expected me to assist you in rescuing that man, you do not have the correct perception of our business relationship. Our terms together are concluded, your payout will be in bits and information. The information that you specifically requested."

Grim faces take the Elite, and Dahlia growing desperation. "But-- But! That's not--! ... Wait! Here! What if I told you I don't want the info anymore! I want help trying to get him back!"

"Stop with this foolishness, Wisp. I will not go against the Family by aiding you in your rebellion. For your own good, I will pretend I never heard you say this."

As Dahlia's ears drop, so does her heart.

"I’m sorry. It is a shame that it has come to this, but remember that I have said before: we cannot harbor you once the Horseshoes have given a directive. Luckily they are not very interested in you, Wisp, but... your human. Crimson. I must say, it is unfortunate. He was a great asset in the acquisition of the relics. Now that we have them all, we may acquire their enchantment print and study them to our heart's content. The Doyens will receive the complete set by tonight, and they will finally see the product of their investments. So much time and money sunk into something nopony knows anything about. Hmhm, let us hope that they are happy with what they find. As a matter of fact, Ruby firmly believes that it would have been impossible to obtain them were it not for him. She really liked Crimson."

Dahlia squints at the ground, feeling completely useless. The Elite team allow the pieces to fit into place, acknowledging the position they are now in.

"Ruby was quite saddened by the news of his capture, but there is nothing that can be done to stop his execution. She was so upset at this that she even considered getting one of her engineers to calibrate the discontinued transponder receiver - one at the Doyens' Hallowed Demesne atop the Appaloosan Mountains, where a certain train is to arrive. If only the transponder, one under the only apple tree which grows green apples, was calibrated to nine-six-two so it could coordinate to the other receivers, she could use it to visit the mansion on such short notice. Ruby is a very busy pony, you see, so she does not have the time to simply fly over there or take the train to attend the execution. Yet, on the same coin, she did not have the availability to send her engineers to set up the transponder for her before Crimson was shipped out. It all happened so fast, she gave up on the idea of trying to see him one last time. It's sorrowful..."

Raised brows of confusion take the room.

"I found it odd that Ruby wanted to witness his execution in-pony - one scheduled for ten thirty tonight at the manor. But she explained it was to have some sort of closure. Her depression was contagious, it made even myself sad knowing that he would be killed on the third floor of the estate in the Chamber of Sagacity... heartbreaking. Seeing a member of my own team this distraught is something I actively try to avoid. Workplace satisfaction and the likes, yes?"

Eyes around dilate and grow wide.

"But, as I stated, nothing can be done to stop his execution. Ruby really did care about that human, despite her cold, biting exterior. The Doyens should count their lucky stars. They get the honor of butchering one of the Horseshoe's greatest loose ends, AND they get to relish in the completed set of relics they've spent many years trying to acquire." His half-lidded eyes shoot open in realization. "Forgive me, I digress." He trots with a small smile towards Cosma's desk, the one which lacks its owner. He goes through one of the drawers and takes out a manila folder, levitating it over to Dahlia. "Here is the information, as you requested. The remainder of what Keeper knew and wrote is in these files. Cross-reference them with the files I already gave you, and you perhaps may find what you're looking for. Your payment will be deposited into your treasury by tomorrow night."

Eyes of addled adore radiate from Dahlia onto the haughty stallion. She takes the files from his magic and notices something odd - a few sticky notes on the top left of the first page with several rows and columns of numbers written on them.

Before she can ask about it, Kleid speaks up sternly. "Now. Because our business is concluded, Wisp," he says as he trots towards the door to the lab. He cranes his head back to glare at her, a glare that lacks any semblance of friendliness. "We shall never speak to each other ever again. If me or my associates find you or yours... prepare yourself for the worst. Leave. Permanently. Never show your faces here again." His horn glows magic to pull the lever to the transponder down. The machine roars back to life. "And if you'll excuse me, I will now go mourn the loss of my brother..." he looks away towards the door with a simper. "... The one I never cared for. Hmh. Good riddance."

The door to the lab opens and closes behind the exiting stallion. The three waste no time and take the transponder one after the other, teleporting all back to the hidden bunker at the base of Canterlot's waterfall.

Once everypony arrives on the other side and the dust has settled, Dahlia inhales dramatically. "Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygooosh!"

"Easy there," Snowfall tries to calm her down.

"Kleid, that sly bastard!"

"Focus, Wisp. We've got a lot to unpack. We're on the right track, but that doesn't explain how we'll actually infiltrate their premises and get our man back. BP, Strix?" Muffled voices come from her saddlebags. She reaches over and opens the flap to retrieve her comms button once more. “You two heard that?”

“Yes, captain!” “Barely, but ye!”

Dahlia’s expression lights up with surprise. “You had that thing on the whole time?”

Snowfall nods once. “Between two books to keep the button held down. BP, you’ve got a long ways to fly. Try to keep pace with that train, but don't let them spot you. I'll repeat this: fly high and outside of their radar. Once you get to the Appaloosan Mountains, find the POI the Horseshoe mentioned. If you can get that teleportation machine working over there, we can send ourselves your way.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n! Bloke said green apple tree!?”

“Affirmative. If it’s anything like the one I’m in now, the only tree growing green fruit will have some sort of hidden hatch to get in.”

“Copy that, cap’n!”

“Patrol finished, captain,” Strix comes in next in a low murmur. “Nothing else has changed... but there's a lot I need to tell you once we regroup.”

Hearing Strix's tone is worrying Snowfall but she assumes it will be concluded soon. “Come on over to us, Strix. Behind the waterfall. Make sure nopony sees you come in.”

“On my way.”

"I believe..." Swirl begins, thinking deeply. "... I believe I may have a way to rescue Crimson. It is completely graceless and may lead to our demise, but it is all that I have."

"Better than nothing,” Snowfall acknowledges. “What've you got for us?"

"Firstly," she levitates writing materials from her saddlebags, "are all four of you comfortable with having your bodies used as catalysts?"

"What does that even mean?" Dahlia prods.

"As it sounds – it is an old magic form which empowers spells or scrolls cast by using other ponies as an aid. The translocation and cascade spells I am going to use must be stronger than my current abilities if we want to ensure Crimson’s rescue. Your natural bodily magics will be parasitically syphoned."

"That sounds kinda crazy, Swirl," Snowfall lifts her brow.

"Do not worry, there are no long-term effects to being a catalyst. You will simply need rest afterwards so that your body regenerates its magics, just as unicorns do. All I need is your approval."

“Are you gonna teach us how to do this?” Dahlia inquires.

“Of course. I will make certain that everypony is comfortable with the scroll before we complete any action. Again, this plan is only serving as a last-ditch effort to rescue him if we do not find any better openings.”

“We could also use this,” Dahlia mentions as she trots to the bunk bed. She retrieves a piece of technology rested near Crimson’s clothing. She shows it to the two wondering eyes that watch her.

“What is that?” Swirl queries.

“It’s called a throw-projector. It takes over wards and shows you what they see. If that mansion place has wards, we can use them to look inside.”

“And maybe find an opening,” Snowfall follows up.

“That… sounds too good to be true,” Swirl says in hesitation. “Usurp wards and broadcast their magical resonance frequency to a local hologram?”

“Uuh…” Dahlia hums dumbly. “Yeah. That. You wanna try it out?”

Swirl nods, taking the device into her magic. She and Snowfall approach the beds as well. Everyone huddles around the yellow unicorn as she sits down on the ground at the side of the bed, analyzing the device.

Dahlia climbs onto the bed and lays down on her stomach, watching and commenting from above. “Press the button on the left to turn it on.”

Swirl does as instructed, the device vibrates lightly and several little grooves around the machine light up with blue magic. A screen beams itself into existence in between the two rods that resemble tesla poles. The yellow unicorn is dumbfounded at just the display alone.

“Cool. Now,” Dahlia continues, “use that antenna there to find the signal the wards on the Castle use.”

Swirl does as she says, jostling the antenna around until something clear appears on the display. A shot of the halls outside of Moonlight’s room, the last ward overtaken by Dahlia. “This… this is…” Swirl shakes her head in disbelief, "... what genius created this?”

“Some nerd from the Black Horseshoes. Press those buttons on the side to change wards.”

Snowfall watches this learning process in silence, also admiring the technical prowess of this device. Dahlia continues to instruct Swirl in its operation – the unicorn herself becomes very invested in the experience.

‎ ‎‎
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~ Equestria, Grey Company Train ~<
‎April 11th, Tuesday, 22:04

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‎ ‎ ‎

He is not sure how much time has passed, but it certainly feels too long. The train ride has become infinitely more boring as they have covered his cage. The only notable feature of time elapsing is the patter on the metal of the cart. The smell of rain is pleasant compared to every other scent wafted in this confinement.

To his pale astonishment, the train grinds to a halt. They have arrived at the final destination, he thinks.

The door to his cart slides and slams open aggressively - the humans start their routine ruckus. His supposition is answered when the cloth upon his cage is pulled, and over eight unicorns of varying sizes, shapes, and genders flood in. Some wear golden armor, but most wear the green and black suits he remembers seeing on that stallion long ago in Canterlot's human formation.

One of the unicorns makes their way to the wall of the cart closest to Crimson and bangs on it a few times with his hoof. "Open up!"

Adhering to his demand, the massive door on the side of the cart clicks, clacks, unhitches, and slides open with a groan. The sound of rain fills the air, pelting the grass and dirt outside. Once the door opens completely, all of the unicorns channel their magic at the same time to levitate Crimson's cage. The rainbow of united colors removes his confinement from the cart and takes him outside.

The air becomes much chillier. The howling winds and the misting rain cause him to squint. Crimson takes in his surroundings, noticing that the train has stopped at the middle of a high-rising mountain. Trying to gauge landmarks out in the barely visible distance, he thinks they are located on the far southern mountains of Equestria. What is odd to him is that they have appear to have stopped in front of a mine. Old tools, wooden crates, and machinery are rested about before the mouth of a cave. Past the cave is a cliff that sends one tumbling down a mile of mountain.

A mine. A very unique place for an execution, he thinks. More of these troops surround the area - armored and suited alike. They talk amongst each other and give side-eyes to the prisoner in the cage.

"Get movin'!" A stallion yells from inside the opened cart. The unicorn collective that levitate Crimson's cage accept this order and begin moving up the mountain and into the cave entrance. The rain becomes muffled, fiery amber light emits from hanging lanterns and scattered torches.

The man grips the bars of his cage and watches where they take him. His glaring eyes continuously scan his environment. He looks for points of interest or things to possibly return for. He will not try escaping now or giving them the impression he can. He is not sure where they are taking him or who the executor may be, but if he is being given an audience with the potential backbones of the Black Horseshoes, he will not miss this opportunity.

The unicorns that carry him stop at one of many dead ends in the mine, seemingly at random. One stallion breaks off and puts his horn to the rocky wall. His magic channels lightly, nothing obvious happens. The stallion then steps forward, phasing right through the wall. Crimson glowers dubiously.

The unicorn pack continues their walk with him in tow. Everyone steps cleanly through this false projection onto the other side. He cannot understand the magic that he witnesses, but he finds himself blown back by wind and rain as they apparently step into an open field again. He squints his eyes and lines his lips - perhaps they teleported. Or maybe the false wall led to another side of the mountain. They did not walk nearly enough for that to be the case, but neither did he feel any of the physical inconveniences of being teleported. The Brains behind this secrecy are beyond what he expected from a gang similar to the Spurs.

This field he is forced through appears not to be a field at all. Judging by the six or seven acres of orchards and steel fencing around, this looks to be more like a huge yard belonging to a despicably rich someone located at the summit of the property. A mansion many floors high stands tall just over the hill.

The unicorns pass under many fruit bearing trees. Leaves and fruit alike fall at random from the harshly pouring rain and the high winds.

An apple falls from a passing tree. The red delicious descends from its stem and manages to land itself perfectly between the bars of the cage and hit Crimson's foot. The man is quick to pinch the fruit with both feet and bend down to grab it. Surprised at this pleasantry, he reaches down and holds the apple up to his face. It is wet from the rain, giving it a peculiar glisten under the magical auras that grasp his cage.

He takes a bite. It is just as delicious as it looks. He crunches the fruit, savors it, and goes for another bite.

"Hrh," the man grunts in anger when a green aura forcefully takes his apple away, passing it through the cage's bars and discarding it haphazardly. He feels the urge to bark at the bastard that took the one good thing away from him in this nightmare.

He grips both bars again, glaring forward bitterly as the massive mansion comes closer. Said mansion is surrounded by a tall fence possibly over three floors high. The architecture is just as grand and imposing as every other wealthy culture around Equestria, yet this one in specific gives such sinister and unsavory vibrations.

The great fences are passed through a sliding gate of equal measure, one manned by ponies wearing raincoats already inside the property. They are let in, the cage is brought with them. The inside of the property before the actual mansion is beautifully covered by many flowers and blooms that frantically rave under the wind and rain.

They finally stop at the imposing front door, one made of thick wood and silver. The cage is set down, the unicorns that handled the cage cease their magic and step away. They all look upward, almost as if facing the sky for approval of their deed.

Crimson cannot look up as they do, he cannot see what they are seeing. He is not sure why, but the handlers appear to be walking away. He is inexplicably left to his lonesome with seemingly nothing happening. He is left at the front door of this massive mansion with the rain pattering the top of his cage.

Several minutes pass, and still nothing. He exhales through his nose and sits down in the cage, throwing his eyes around the expansive, dark, stormy property. At least he is not getting rained on directly.

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~ Equestria, the Southern Plains ~<
‎April 11th, Tuesday, 22:04

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“Shite,” Bulletpoint curses to himself, panting from exhaustion, using his hoof to move some of his wet mane out of his face. He flaps his wings with the strength he has left, having flown consecutively for several hours with his armor and equipment, and now, soaked from the rain that began to pour. He flies high above Equestria, nearing the cloud line, watching down on the face of mountain as the train comes to a halt, the inconspicuous ponies below take Crimson away, and they disappear into the mine. He reaches back into his saddlebags carefully and fumbles in them a bit to feel around for the comms button. He finds it, takes it, and holds it under his chest and neck to shield it from the rain. “Cap’n!” he calls into the button after pressing it. “Train’s stopped! They took our lad into the mountain! A mine of a sort! Lost sight of ‘em!”

A gust of wind blows, forcing him back a few feet. He grunts and resets himself, holding the button closely for the response.

“Find the mansion,” Snowfall commands, barely audible over the howl of wind and rain. “You might need to circle around the mountain. Stay strong, BP.”

Bulletpoint lets go of the button and stashes it back in his bags, ensuring they are properly closed so nothing falls out. He grunts and mumbles to himself, “Not like I got a choice.”

He pleads to his aching back and wings to carry him further. He hauls himself along the air high above, holding the binoculars up to his eyes again. He scans each Horseshoe that works around the entrance of the mine, some idle in place, talking, with others moving boxes or equipment.

He travels towards this mountain, wings flinging rain wildly as he moves, aiming to stop and get some rest at one of the highest peaks safely away from the operation below. He comes into contact with a cliff edge and finally lands for the first time in hours, letting out an exaggerated exhale. "Phoooh… fackin’ a…”

He comes down onto his rear and leans his head back, letting the rain pelt his face. He pants into the air, puffs of breath coming from him and fading into the air. He then throws off his duffle bag and skulks into it, retrieving a canteen and uncapping it with slogging haste. He takes several deep swigs to revitalize himself.

Sighing immodestly, he caps it and stuffs back into the bag. He zips it back up and throws it around his back, standing onto his fours. He lets his head hang, ridding his exhaustion as he walks lazily across the cliff. This cliff spans a great length, circling across the mountain he stands upon towards the range where the rest of the Appaloosan Mountains can be seen for many miles.

He squints tiredly, preventing rain from getting into his eyes. He admires the eerie view as he moves, bearing witness to the expanse of jutting earth that is the range.

Step after step, he nears the west face of his current mountain. Breath after cold breath, he remains aware and vigilant.

“… Huh!?”

He halts and backpedals. From one moment to the next, his world churned an image completely different to what he saw – the mountain range turned into an immense property. Stepping back seems to have caused this vivid image to disappear.

Stopped and stupefied, he collects himself before continuing again. He walks forward, eyes peeled despite the rain, and he sees it happen again in real time.

The world around him contorts for a second, turning from the endless mountain range into a grand property that seemingly spans for miles. At the summit of this property, an enormous mansion is located, one surrounded at all sides by orchards of different kinds, farm equipment, and fields of crop.

Just to ensure he is not hallucinating, he steps back, and the image fades. Upon closer inspection, reality seems to wobble at a threshold, likely disturbed at his movement. He stays in place but leans his head in. Now he notices it. His face punches through an invisible barrier that hides the plain behind it.

Speechless, he reaches for his comms button again. “… Cap’n. You ain’t gonna believe this.”

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~ The Appaloosan Mountains, the Hallowed Demesne ~<
‎April 11th, Tuesday, 22:25

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Crimson snaps out of his delicate muse when an ethereal hand grasps his cage again - one made of the blue magic he has come to know the cages for. He stands up, darting his eyes around quickly. The magic is coming from seemingly nowhere.

Before he can brace for it, he is blinded by a flash of light and feels himself teleported. Rain becomes a distant noise, the winds non-existent. The air around becomes warmer and comfortable. He acclimates himself to his new location, seeing now that he is inside the mansion in one of its many rooms...

... or courts, rather. This room is giant, with a ceiling that almost cannot be seen and walls that span for an equal length. The lighting around is comfortable due to chandeliers and sconces that burn gentle fires.

He finds that he is alone in the very center of this room, in between benches and chairs off to either side that have no one sitting in them. His cage resides on a red carpet where he is presented clearly to see by all present.

Many guards surround this place, speckled across each corner and cubby that meets the eye. All of them wear nice attire, nothing like the green and black suits or the armor of the guards. These clothes seem more civilian and high fashion rather than strictly uniform.

There are so many of them that even with his Arch, he feels he will not be leaving here alive - with or without a fight. Might as well inconvenience them as best he can before he meets his maker.

The pièce de résistance of this occult lair lies straight past the bars of his cage. Very high chairs behind wooden podiums seat four elder unicorn stallions, each of them embellished with jewelry and fine robes with fur around the collars. Crimson finds their appearance textbook filthy rich overlord, making their extremely old and frail appearance seem that much more wicked.

One Doyen, the smallest of the four, sits on the outer left side donning glasses thicker than the tension in this room. The inner left Doyen has a beard that spans all the way down to the floor. The inner right Doyen appears more withered than the others, having a lame and greyed left eye and plenty of blemishes on his coat. The outer right Doyen has the opposite problem, appearing as the youngest with the least amount of aging to his body. Regardless, each one of them looks absolutely ancient, ready to wheeze and keel at any moment.

"Thou..." the more withered Doyen on the inner right seat suddenly speaks up, his voice echoing quite well due to the acoustics of the room, "... art one troublesome kind. I enjoy seeing the faces of those who cause us many troubles. So many different creatures... so many unique aspirations. All in contrast to our final purpose."

"Yet thou," the Doyen on the inner left begins, stopping himself to chuckle lightly, "thou hast managed to simultaneously aid us whilst damaging our operations. Thou'st truly made an outlier of thyself."

Crimson glares at each of them with hate as clear as crystal. He finally meets the sagging faces that have taken advantage of humanity and strung it out for everything it is worth. This mansion, this property, the minions under their guise – it is all a testament to what they have done. He cannot be more excited to finally be in this position.

"Human," the outer left Doyen calls for his attention next. "Speak. Do not hide thy speech from us. Thou'st fooled many, but no longer."

The man continues dogging them silently behind his confinement.

"Defiant, yes," the Doyen at the inner right chair speaks up again. "One named... Crimson Sky. Sold by the Grey Company to Canterlot. Celestia's own purchase. A gift to an esteemed student of hers. To the surprise of all, one such simple man would cause this much turmoil internally and externally."

"That is no man," the Doyen on the far right seat now speaks critically. "That is an angel. One of song and myth. No mere mortal could pose such a threat to our Family."

"Threat? Oh no. He could never pose a threat. Not in any significant form. His usefulness greatly outweighs the trouble he caused. I declare that Gloriosa has repaid her debt in full."

The other Doyens nod and hum in agreement.

"And even if now thou must die, Crimson Sky," he speaks to the man directly now, "thou shan't miss the opportunity to bare witness to the fruits of thy labor. What thou shall see... will be greater than anything thy meek life could ever amount to - angel or not."

The Doyen clacks his wrinkly hoof on his podium twice. Like clockwork, four underlings appear from hiding with pillows in their hooves. They approach the Doyens up to their stands, ascending the stairs in a uniformed manner to hold out one relic for each Doyen. The Doyens take their relics into their magic, still strong enough to hold the artifacts - the Orb of Tramana for the far left stallion, the Amulet of Mariki for the inner left, the Belt of Uru for the inner right, and the Ring of Conteriima for the outer right. They bring them in and physically hold their respective relics.

The Doyen who holds the belt in front himself simpers his sagging front. He stops slouching so harshly, and his lazy grey eye begins to look properly along with his functioning eye. "True works of beauty and art. These relics, forged and enchanted by our great, great ancestors - Tramana Coltis, Mariki Hyu, Uru Yordo, and Ekrii Conteriima. Powerful artifacts which were created and designed to secure victory for ponykind during the Great War. They served their purpose then..." he squints devilishly at the belt, "... but none could know their true power. Until now. A... magic lockbox, one could say. And the key was with us all along..."

Crimson glances between the four relics, seeing how their frail physical bodies seem to wake and energize at their hold. He understands each relic grants the wearer some form of sensual enhancement, but it almost resurrects each of them from the dead in different ways.

"Crimson Sky," the Doyen looks up to him. "I must say I admire thy willingness to remain unspeaking. Behind thine eyes, I see a fire which burns torrid. Thou'st decided to listen, rather than interrupt with nonsensical vocalization. A trait truly admirable. Thy execution was meant to be a slow curdle to death... but I have taken a liking to thee. After this final spectacle, we will ensure thy death is swift. Even pleasurable."

"Shove it up your ass," the man finally grits. Aggressive attention is gained for the muscle around at this crude calling.

"Hohoho..." the old stallion chuckles lightly, patting the belt in amusement. "It is too late to demonstrate defiance, Crimson Sky, my inclination to thee is already settled. Now... let us show thou what thy work has amounted to... once and for all."

He taps his podium again like before, except this time, his hoof bashes the wood roughly though he puts no effort. Crimson hears the doors behind him come open. He turns around to witness a mare enter, a servant just as the others.

The mare keeps her cold eyes forward, the bangs of her tangerine mane cover most of them. She holds a pillow in her hoof just as the previous servants did. Crimson sees what it is... some sort of green and black hourglass. The very sight of this relic sends a chill down his spine, and he cannot understand why.

Then it strikes him. The relic he and the Elite were supposed to acquire from the griffons at Whitetail. The one which was apparently sold and shipped off to a faceless someone. He could only assume this is the same relic, yet this one is not broken.

She begins a slow, calculated walk towards the Doyens. She steps around the man's cage, her eyes only momentarily looking towards him. It feels like much longer. Her pink orbs shimmer under the dim light as they make eye-contact.

She continues walking, facing forward. She ascends the staircase up to the Doyens, bows her head, and offers the pillow. The smiles on the Doyens faces could only be described as far too excited…

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~ The Hallowed Demesne, Hidden Horseshoe Enclosure ~<
‎April 11th, Tuesday, 22:30

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“Do you see it, BP?”

“Not yet, cap’n,” the spent stallion replies, hovering high in the air above the property as he looks down with his binoculars. Only one section of the orchard belongs to apples, condensing his search. While much more difficult to see under the raining night sky, he still manages to count the color of the apples he sees on the trees.

The search bares no fruit…

… until…

“I see it!” the stallion calls excitedly into the button. “Tree! Apple tree, green apples! Only one I’ve seen!”

“Good. Get down there, don’t get spotted.”

He noted some heads guarding the perimeter of the mansion, but no movement across the orchard. The stallion wastes no time and descends discretely.

Heartrate picking up as he infiltrates the property, he soon arrives at the tree. Glancing around quickly for any potential threats or enemies, he finds none. With an inhale through his teeth, he lands on the moist dirt and grass and inspects the tree. He trots around it, stomping his hooves, where the sound of mushy grass and dirt clanks out for something akin to a wooden board.

He stops and looks down. He begins to kick the dirt and uproot the grass on the location of the sound change. A hidden panel. A ferocious grin overtakes his face as he moves to retrieve his comms button. “Cap’n, I found it.”

“Excellent work, BP. See if you can locate that teleporter machine.”

He does as commanded. He clears enough of the mud to find a latch. It takes some force to get the old, undisturbed panel to come open, but it does eventually. Desperately wanting to get out of the rain, he hops in before bothering to check it.

He lands inside at the bottom, dust immediately kicks up. He coughs and spits, getting oriented to the nearly pitch-black room he now finds himself in. He finds a switch not far from the ladder that ascends to the latch, trotting up to it and flipping it up. A single bulb turns on in the middle of the room.

He realizes he is in a box made of concrete, with a single bed on the far left corner, a closet of supplies next to it, and a large, complicated-looking machine on the opposite wall to the ladder. Before he approaches it, he flies up to close the latch so rain no longer pours into the room.

“Cap’n,” he says into his button, approaching the front of the massive machine. “Found the tech. How do I get this shite workin’?”

“The transponder is still operational,” Swirl speaks up instead. “There should be a panel on the right-hoof side of the machine.” The stallion looks towards the direct location. “You will find several dials that have numbers engraved on them.”

Bulletpoint looks to the side of the machine but does not find the indicated panel. He steps back and checks the opposite side, finding the panel there. “Oi, Swirly, panels on the left.”

“Not your right, Bulletpoint, the machine’s right,” she growls angrily.

“… Ah.”

“You must set the dials to all zero except the last three digits. Nine-six-two.”

The stallion lifts his left brow, eyeing the panel skeptically. It is old, rusty, and a little difficult to read. He reaches his hoof and turns the dials to the instructed combination. “Right, done.”

“Pull the lever.”

He does so with a heavy yank. The machine groans briefly, seeming to do nothing for a moment, but ends up startling Bulletpoint when it roars to life with orange-colored magic.

“We heard it,” Snowfall confirms. “Good work. We’ll send ourselves over there. Stand clear of the machine, BP.”

“Copy,” the stallion says as he backpedals.

He watches the transponder intently, the orange magic bouncing off of his orange coat seamlessly. It feels like too long before anything happens, and anticipation starts to gnaw at him.

...

wzZOOOM!

He watches as the machine forms a magic silhouette of a pony before it spits her out. It is a pony who he has never seen before, becoming very confused for a moment.

Dahlia shakes her head and blinks three times quickly, locking eyes with Bulletpoint. “… Uh,” she starts awkwardly, “… hey.”

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~ The Appaloosan Mountains, the Hallowed Demesne ~<
‎April 11th, Tuesday, 22:38

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"The moment at last!" The far left Doyen calls.

"The time has come, brothers!" The far right Doyen expresses.

"Sweet, sweet eternity..." the Doyen with the belt fantasizes. "The Hourglass of the Continuum. Horis… one of the most prestigious and powerful mages in all of Equestria’s history. His inventions and progression in the field of magic where second to none. In fact, they were so great, his peers and loved ones ex-communicated him for it. His intelligence was unmatched, and he was despised for it. Even the other great mages disowned him, despite them working together most of their life. At long last, their collective works have been reunited and can flourish completely.” He glances left and right to the other Doyens. “Together, brothers.”

At his word, the Doyens levitate their relics above their heads. The Doyen holding the belt also takes the hourglass into his magic, lifting it up as well. The relics seem to move themselves and gravitate automatically around this hourglass once it is presented to the group.

"It is perfect, brothers! The key to the infernal lockbox which holds our immortality! The Hourglass of Horis!"

The relics begin to spin around the Hourglass faster and faster as they are continuously held together. Magic begins to spark and erupt from each piece - the orb throwing orange sparks, the amulet projecting purple, the belt cracks red, the ring electric blue, and finally, the hourglass a deep, glaring green glow. The granulated green sand inside of it becomes luminescent.

The relics become a blur as they spin extremely quickly, which eventually glows so brightly, it strains the eyes. Even the minions and servants around watch this scene with hesitance. The volatile magic combined with the overexcitement of the Doyens makes them question the situation silently.

"Hahaha!"

"Yes, brothers!"

"It is truly here!"

"True immortality!"

The Doyens chant.

JjzzzZZZzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ-- CR-CRAAWH!

Eyes are averted - the explosion of magic shooting a harsh gust of wind across the entire chamber. Crimson takes his forearm away from his face and blinks with a squint. He looks at the glowing white light above the Doyens. The magic slowly settles down after the ritual completes, revealing something that puts everyone around aghast.

‎

‎

~ The Hallowed Demesne, Hidden Horseshoe Enclosure ~<
‎April 11th, Tuesday, 22:38

‎
‎

Bulletpoint, Dahlia, Strix, and Snowfall are all gathered around Swirl as she commands the throw-projector. The stallion is actively heating up two MREs from his duffle to consume, starved from the long trip. Even though he is entertained with his food, his eyes and the eyes of the mares around him stare into the throw-projector perplexed, as they watch from one of the wards inside of the chamber.

They witness Crimson entrapped in the cage, the collection of the five relics, and the eerie, cult-like crowd which populates the room.

“Oi, lasses…” Bulletpoint begins, stuffing dried greens into his mouth and chewing. He perks everyone’s ears even though they do not look away from the projector. He swallows before finishing his thought. “Them nightmares?”

“… It’s here,” Strix affirms, giving validation to the emotions they were silently sharing.

Only Dahlia is mildly confused, taking a moment to glance between each member of the Elite before returning her attention to the projector. A deep frown finds itself on her expression, one which Swirl slyly notices.

“… If nothing else works,” Swirl begins, “… we will resort to my plan. Everypony, be prepared…”

Silent acknowledgement comes from everyone. Trembling, dilated eyes remain plastered on the throw-projector.

‎

‎

‎

~ The Appaloosan Mountains, the Hallowed Demesne ~<
‎April 11th, Tuesday, 22:42

‎

The explosion of energy reveals the beacon of power - five relics have now combined into a single one, a black onyx crown encrusted with colored gems that represent each respective relic. The crown radiates an iniquitous and bold aura.

The Doyens watch the crown hover above them without the need of them channeling their magic - it simply floats above them. They marvel at the sight with gleaming eyes. They then look at each other, and the question becomes apparent.

"I!" the Doyen who held the belt calls first. "I shall don the crown first!"

"Who bestowed this blessing upon you, Borron?" the Doyen who held the amulet challenges.

"As the oldest of the lineage!" he snaps back. "I reserve the right to don the crown first! Worry not my brothers! Once immortality is mine, the next in line of our lineage may don it next to receive the gift!"

The other Doyens look rather displeased at this outcome, but they do not further confront him. They bow to the aspect that he is indeed the oldest, they simply watch him as he nearly has a heart attack from the excitement.

The Doyen aiming to don the crown bounces in his seat, "Yes! Come to me, my enteral perfection! Come!" He channels his horn, enveloping the crown. He gently brings it down and sits it onto his head, just behind his horn. The crown feels cold upon his balding scalp, and it weighs more than he expected. "It... is beautiful..."

The gems begin glowing, first the red and the orange gems - signaling their counterparts. Then, the purple and the blue. Once this begins happening, the Doyen feels very strange. Tingles, shivers, before the complete trembling of his body.

"Hoaah, hohoaaah!" The spine-chilling sensation has him quivering. "Hoooaaaaa!"

Gasps are had from the other Doyens and many of the servants in the room. The servant who has stood near the base of the staircase begins to trot backwards away from the scene.

"HOhohoh!"

Before everyone's eyes, the old withered stallion begins to change. His sagging coat and skin vibrates as it tightens across his frame and becomes terse. The spots and splotches age gave him fade into his complexion and disappear completely. The scattered strands of mane he had begun to grow out as more accompany them, giving him a full head of hair within seconds. A full-body transformation turns this wilted elder into a young, nimble, and able stallion again.

Complete shock fills Crimson and the servants around. The other Doyens are practically drooling.

"HOohHO! YES! YEEES!" the stallion jumps from the podium swiftly and lands at the base of the stairs on all fours. He admires his body formed perfectly under his expensive clothing. "YEHEHEHES!"

"Brother!" one of the Doyens calls from behind, "relinquish the crown! It is our turn to savor immortality!"

"Hooh, but of course, my brother. Join me, join me in youth and power!" The young stallion channels his magic to envelop the crown. He lifts it-- "Rhhk!" Or not. It instead pulls on his head when he tries taking it off. His expression immediately takes worry. He tries again, and once more it pulls on his scalp harshly. "Rrh, brothers, I--!"

"Cease your foolery, brother!" One of the Doyens impatiently cries. "Give us the crown as promised!"

"Brothers, I..." He reaches his hoof up to grab it manually. Even still, it does not budge. "Brothers, I cannot remove it! The crown has bound itself to my head!"

"Enough lies, brother!" Another Doyen shouts angrily. "Do as ordained! You are obligated!"

"I speak the truth, brothers! I cannot! I cannot remove-- Ohorrrh!" The Doyen winces suddenly. This causes the others to pause with mouths agape. "AArrh! Brothers, my head! It-- AAaargh!"

Crimson’s attention is directed to something - the crown’s jewels. The four gems that represent the base relics are all glowing, except the one in the very center. The green gem. Though now, it flickers, as if turning on and off. Each time it glows, the young stallion expresses pain.

"Aaah-haargh! Brothers, what is-- What is happening to myself!?" The other Doyens watch in silent trepidation to the pain he is in, now realizing that this may not be a farce. "HaaaAAH HaaAAAAAH! HRAAAA-- AAAAAAAAA-- AAAAAH!"

Everyone shakes in fear when the young Doyen suddenly combusts with green magic. This magic physically alters him further. His body becomes defined, he gains muscle mass, his height increases, and his physical structure changes almost completely. His face takes on a recognizably different shape - his mane has turned from snow white to jet black. His coat has also shifted from its original grey color to a deep green. His eyes, once an indistinct blue, now are a vibrant, glowing green. The fancy clothes he wore are stretched to their limit and rip off, leaving him bare.

The pain seems to have stopped once the transformation runs its course, and this completely new stallion looks somewhat lost, as he looks around and assesses his surroundings.

"... B-Brother?" One of the Doyens calls.

The dark green stallion looks over, still confused and acclimating. His eyes fall to the ground, his mind visibly races...

... and like a light switch flickering on, he smiles wickedly. He closes his eyes in satisfaction, takes in a deep breath, and releases it promptly. "Finally."

"Brother, how art thou!?" Another Doyen worried queries.

The green stallion seems to ignore the Doyens line of questioning. He instead looks over to Crimson, still donning his wide grin. The man looks back at him, brows lined at the top of his eyes. The stallion approaches, and once he reaches the cage, his stark green magic channels and envelops the cage.

The enchanted cage melts away, as if the cold magical steel was made of wax. The man now stands on a bare platform with melted, smoldering metal surrounding him. The Doyens and their subjects witness this in what they could only describe as abject horror, for not only the sheer magical prowess displayed just now, but also the liberty granted to the man.

"We meet again," the green stallion says, his voice sounding completely different than before. He is now much taller than the average pony, his height leveled with Crimson's chest.

"Again?" Crimson questions with clenched fists.

"Yes. You know who I am, despite not realizing it."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"With pleasure... Arch Angel. We met first on the plains of Applewood, outside of Las Pegasus. If you recall, I had aided you in the dispatch of certain... undesirables."

Crimson's eyes shift away as he racks his mind. "The plains outside Las Pegasus? That's where the Wildmares were. That's where..."

His eyes brighten in recognition. The grinning stallion notices this and chuckles. "Yes. You remember me now, do you?"

"That... anomaly. But, you're..." His brows tremble in the struggle to comprehend. "That... can't be."

"But it is. For I... am Horis Alguard."

Sharp inhales and cries come from all ponies around. The Doyen quiver in their mortification. "Im-Impossible!" One of the Doyens shouts, garnering the attention of all. "Thou cannot be him! Thou'st been dead for centuries!"

Horis shakes his head, looking almost disappointed. "Oh, my feeble-minded friend. I recant the birth of your greatest grandparents - all of yours," he waves to the lot of three. "I had high expectations of your lineage, and you did not disappoint. Quite the positions of power you have all attained."

"H-Horis!" Another Doyen roars. "Release our brother's body! Release him at once!"

"Release? Hohohoho, no, no. Borro is gone. Only I remain now." The Doyens become petrified at this information. "It was enjoyable seizing this vessel - the pleasure of taking in a breath again, the sensation of being alive… it is like nothing else. I am grateful it was his body I was able to attain," he looks down at the flawless build that is his body, "it appears he was a gaudy chap in his younger years. The magics have made it superior."

"You monster! G-Guards, seize him!"

Horis sneers.

The plethora of surrounding guards channel their magic, holding it at the ready at the cocky stallion who stands completely still. “Is this any way to welcome my return?”

“You should have stayed dead, you creature!”

Horis chuckles and closes his eyes, savoring the moment with a deep breath. "I hold that you know full-well I will not come quietly."

“Fine! Destroy him!”

“Eliminate him!”

Horis opens his eyes, grinning sinisterly. "Go ahead, then. Do your worst."

One guard finally has the gull to fire her magic at him. A powerful bolt of offensive magic darts through the air to strike Horis on the side of his neck.

Horis' left hoof glows with green magic and he effortlessly swats the burning bolt away, returning it to sender so it strikes the mare back. The bolt blows right through her forehead, coming out the other side and hitting the wall behind her along with some brain matter. Her eyes go crossed, her body hits the ground.

Silence.

Crimson's widened eyes look just a bit over to the left… over to his visage, which has appeared to witness this as well.

The visage looks back at Crimson. Then nods.

Panic.

Screams and cries from everyone in the room – the three remaining Doyens are ran up to and nearly tackled by six shrouded unicorns, collectively channeling their magic to teleport themselves and the decrepit elders away. Not a second after their rescue, dozens upon dozens of Horseshoe mages fire magic at both Horis and Crimson. The two furrow their brows - green and gold shine simultaneously as Crimson's Arch burns into reality to lift his greatshield and block the magic coming at him. Horis channels his magic to produce a thick wall of green crackling energy that absorbs everything fired into it. The two stand back to back, holding off the assault.

"Haha! Beautiful, is it not?" Horis laughs. He glances back at the man briefly, caught by something he finds rather interesting. "Bah! Is that a slave's collar around your neck? Arch Angel! Why waste your precious life as a servant to these pathetic whelps when you could serve under me?"

"The hell you talkin' 'bout!?"

"A lapdog for the Consortium, then a pawn for the Horseshoes? You are better, Arch Angel! Your powers are beyond my understanding, and I wish to understand aaaall! What say you, ah!? Serve under me! Through our leadership, Equestria shall prosper!"

Crimson grits, feeling magic come fast before it pangs and bounces off his shield. "You've got the wrong impression, partner! I ain't no one's slave! Not theirs, and not yers!"

"You would be no slave to me! You are a being of higher power! We shall work together! Do not let your feeble emotions contest your greatness!"

"You don't know a damn thing about me!"

His magic channels even brighter - his green cast barrier begins deflecting what is shot at it instead of simply absorbing, causing an even greater turmoil in the chamber. "Do not squander your gift!"

"I ain't interested!"

He lifts his chin and laughs into the air. “You disappoint me, Arch Angel! Sooner or later, you will come around! Of this, I’m sure!”

“Hold yer breath, then!”

Suddenly, a dome of green energy is created by the horn of Horis, one which encapsulates him and Crimson. The dome gleams entrancingly as the magic of many Horseshoe mages fire at it.

Crimson lets his golden shield fall, taken aback at the fact that he is being protected by the wicked stallion. His stupor is deepened at witnessing this protective globe fire green projectiles like some sort of disco ball of death. They seemingly fire out at random in every direction, decimating and gutting dozens of bodies in an instant. Screams of pain and agony, cries of resolve and mantra, the room is in chaos.

Crimson turns around slowly, facing the stallion who is already looking at him. They lock eyes, magma-like gold peering into a maelstrom of green.

“Infinite power could be yours,” Horis calmly states, holding a simper. “Do not throw away your life by contesting me. You are much too valuable to be lost to petty defiance.”

“Who says I’ll be lost.”

“I admire your stubbornness, Arch Angel. Look around you,” he lifts his hoof at the visceral slaughter happening around, without an ounce of effort coming from either of them. “You witness but a small taste of my power. The simple fact that it does not frighten you… it only grows my interest.”

“Is that why you saved my hide back at Applewood?”

“Among other things, but yes. I could not let you be vanquished so prematurely, especially not to those… barbarians.”

“The magic anomalies… those were you.”

“Quite the name. I wish to meet the who coined it.”

“But… how? How were you controllin’ those when you were dead?”

Horis glances past the shield, seeing a seemingly endless march of Horseshoe mages continuing to storm the chamber and be eviscerated almost instantly. He smirks and returns focus on Crimson. “I suppose a small lesson in history is no harm to anypony. To condense quite a tale, my colleagues and I created artifacts of power.” As he says this, the gems in his crown appear to sheen upon being mentioned. “They were meant to assist ponykind in surviving the Great War during the dragon and changeling invasions. Each artifact was created with the intention to promote the strongest attribute in the mind who created it. I was far more intelligent than they were, having suggested that we formulate a method to combine all of these strengths into one all-encompassing empowerment. Perhaps a new horizon in magical attunement, a chance at a new breed of magical super solider to protect Equestria from its enemies. They scoffed at the idea, laughed it even.” He himself almost laughs recalling the ironic events. “I took the time… the effort… and creative prowess to develop an artifact that would mesh the powers of each artifact into one. Thus, this crown upon my head was birthed. The old fools were none the wiser.”

Crimson’s brows twitch, understanding what he was told. A question still irks him, one he briefly holds inside so he could look past the green translucent dome around him. He bares witness to a slaughter of the likes he had never seen before in his life. He then refocuses on Horis. “… If you were dead, how on earth did you control the anomalies?”

“Simple. The artifact I created, the Hourglass, was a special project of mine. See, it was not meant to empower any of my physical or magical abilities, unlike the counterparts of my colleagues. My hourglass has a very… ‘special’ enchantment, which in turn ended my physical life… but it stored my consciousness. Preserved it. Upon the destruction of the hourglass, my consciousness was released into the ethereal plains of Equus’ magic reservoir, floating endlessly across a metaphysical ocean, waiting for its reconstruction. The ‘magic anomalies’ as you called them, they were manifestations of my consciousness drenched in an astral pocket of centuries of time. The puny, insignificant wastes life who were those barbarians in the Applewood, I manifested this shard of my consciousness, and forced them to experience many years of existence in a matter of moments. As you saw, it was a beautiful marvel of space-time.”

The information almost hurts Crimson’s head. Concepts beyond his comprehension are somehow ushered into his understanding, and it pains him to think about such an idea. It feels almost familiar. “The… hourglass. You-- … you exploited time.”

“Hmhm~ What a compliment."

"... How?"

"The storing of my consciousness was, well…” He suddenly stops himself, closing his eyes and smiling wider. “A trade secret I cannot discuss. Lest you join me. Only then an infinite bank of knowledge will become yours.”

Crimson takes a step back, attempting to internalize everything at once.

“Join me, Arch Angel. I know your powers deserve more than… this.” Horis points past his shield towards the ground without even looking. Crimson follows his point to witness a dismembered eyeball belonging to a random victim to his whim. The freshly ripped eyeball gently rolls across the bloody carpet and comes to a uncomfortably peaceful halt near the base of the dome.

Crimson returns his golden eyes to the stallion. He feels a presence next to him again. His visage. He does not look over to it, but instead feels it - hears it speak. “You know what to say.”

He steels himself and balls his hands into fists. The man himself speaks to Horis, “You’re psychotic. The world ain’t yer playground to toy with. Instead of usin’ yer intelligence to better it, here you are destroyin’ it.”

Horis chuckles in something resembling glee. “Little do you know, Arch Angel. I’m not destroying the world, I’m saving it. The lives of these worthless ponies mean nothing, as they try to stop what I aim to accomplish. I serve to better Equestria as a whole. I strive to perfect magic, and thus, perfect ponykind with magic. Magical perfection should not only be my gift… it should be one given to all. I wish to ensure a catastrophe like the Great War never happens again. And if it does, ponykind will be powerful enough to bring it to a swift end. You will understand this soon enough.”

Crimson squints at him and shakes his head slowly. “Very righteous of you. But you best believe you won’t have it easy with me around.”

Only now does Horis drop the cocky attitude for genuine disappointment. He lines his lips and delivers a solemn look to the man. “Hmh. A shame. Yet, I have hope for you. I currently have far too many complications to hold you captive… for now. There is much I must do. Much to prepare.” His disappointment is relinquished for a smirk once more. “I will come for you again, Arch Angel. Prepare yourself for our future encounter. I expect only great things from you.”

In a blink, Horis darts in a green streak to the man and delivers an earth-shattering blow to his chest. Crimson snaps his guard into place as fast as he can, crossing his forearms to absorb the blow. The punch is so powerful that it skids him back on his heels, blowing him right through Horis’ shield dome and shattering it to pieces. He continues skidding, his body smashing into benches, chairs, wooden rails, and finally, the wall to the mansion. A massive chunk of the wall is destroyed as the man is flung out into the raining world outside above the orchards.

Golden molecules manifest from the aether around him to ignite his body, forming his wings and halo in a fiery explosion of gold. Crimson recovers in the middle of the air, flapping his wings to orient himself and look back at the mansion where chaos still ensues. He looks down at his arms, the ones which blocked the powerful blow. His right arm is bruised, broken at the forearm, and almost completely lame, being the side that absorbed most of the blow. Strangely, he feels no pain. Only hollowness. Maybe even guilt.

Feeling too many emotions to count at once, he grits his teeth and looks up towards the grey skies above, one which pours melancholy onto the world. He holds his lame right arm with his strong left. He then flaps his wings twice quickly, then a third time with enough force to rip the sound barrier. He darts into the cloud line and disappears from sight.

Not long after the angel’s escape does the chamber cease its waves of death. Horis finds that he is now all alone with an uncountable number of bodies, seeing that the mansion is no longer throwing more opposition at him. Whether they ran out or surrendered, he will soon peruse through the mansion to find out.

Silent and pondering, he walks towards the giant hole in the estate's wall, looking out to land's raining night. His brows furrow as he stares into the boundless horizon. "You will come around, Arch Angel. I will give you no choice." He takes in a long, deep, cathartic breath, and releases it slowly, peacefully, enjoying the sensation of being alive once more. "I have returned, my precious Equestria. I will complete my promise to you."

‎

‎

~ The Hallowed Demesne, Hidden Horseshoe Enclosure ~<
‎April 11th, Tuesday, 22:59

‎
‎

Not a whisper is spoken, or could even be spoken, by every witness staring into the throw-projector. Trembling eyes, hearts pounding in their heads, they cannot begin to comprehend what they saw.

Dahlia is the only one able to utter a single word, her magenta eyes glittering under the dim light of the projector. “… Crimson…”

Act 13: Burning Your Roots

~ The Hallowed Demesne, Hidden Horseshoe Enclosure ~<
April 11th, Tuesday, 23:00

‎

“Where’d he go!?”

“For the last time,” Snowfall grunts to the panicking Dahlia, “we don’t know. What we do know is that he escaped. Wherever he went, we can bet it’s somewhere safe.”

Dahlia glares at the throw-projector, as if hoping Crimson would somehow reappear. The ward which watched the inside of the grand chamber was miraculously not blown out. The man does not reappear, not here or on any of the other wards she had spent entire minutes frantically shifting through. Still, she hopes. Though, all her hopes are given is a front-row view of a maniacal green stallion who is ordering his new slaves around.

“We need to go,” Snowfall speaks up again, reaching her hoof to the transponder’s lever. Her and her team are already prepared to teleport back to Canterlot, but all face the mare who has not moved from the edge of the bed. “At least we can rest easy knowing he saved himself. That execution could have gone much worse.”

“Red could’a lost his head,” Bulletpoint comments critically. “That Horis bloke? Somethin’ outta a nightmare. Be glad Red made it out.”

“… Where did he go?” Dahlia repeats to herself, depressed and quiet.

Feeling profound empathy, Strix purses her lips and walks over to the petrified tan pegasus. She gently places her hoof on her shoulder, causing her to jolt lightly at the touch. “He’s gonna be okay, Wisp. We all saw him fly away, right?”

Dahlia finally breaks away from the projector to look up at Strix.

“He’s, like, a super tough guy. He’s managed to survive everything thrown at him, right? Nothing is going to take him down. I’m one-hundred percent sure you’ll find him. I wish we could help you look for him, but…”

“But we must return to Canterlot,” Swirl interjects. “If we would like to see another day outside of the walls of the Dungeon, we will return to our posts and act as if this never happened.”

“… We didn’t help him,” Dahlia utters, looking back to the static of the projector.

“We may have failed to intervene, but luckily, he did not need it. The only plan we had would have likely made his situation worse. That… Horis. Had I gone through with my idea to translocate in to help Crimson escape, I would have been churned to paste by his magic. Though he is a threat beyond our understanding, he directly aided in Crimson’s escape. There is light in the darkness yet.”

A booming growl comes from the transponder when Snowfall pulls the lever, its orange magic dances and paints the wall. “Come on, Wisp. The sooner we get our shit together, the sooner you can start looking for him.”

Dahlia’s glimmering eyes remain on the screen for a few moments longer… before a deep exhale comes from her mouth. She powers down the projector. Strix offers to help her up with her wing. Dahlia responds by extending her own and intertwining her major feather with hers. Lifted up, she and Strix walk together towards the transponder.

Each of them take turns teleporting back to Canterlot’s bunker.

After they have all made their return, they take one last moment to mull on their situation. The Elite all give the tan pegasus some words to hold onto.

“Listen,” Snowfall starts. “With what we just saw, it’s safe to assume Equestria is in for a rude awakening. We don’t know what Horis is capable of or what his plans are, but that spectacle is good enough to tell us we’ve got a huge problem. Everything we know is changing, and even though we don’t know you very well, it’s obvious that you care for him as much as we do. If you know him at all, you’ll know he won’t be giving up easily. We should do the same.”

“We do hope you find ‘im, lass,” Bulletpoint speaks up next. “He’s a friend of ours. ‘N that means you’re a friend too. In this bloody country full of gang-trash and two-face scum… know you’ve got mates. If you’re ever in Cannalot, have the Castle’s front desk look us up.”

Ears rested on her head, Dahlia nods solemnly, silently appreciating the words even though they do not resolve her issue.

The Elite use the cover of night to slink out of the bunker and into the Castle grounds. The tan mare decides to remain in the bunker for the night, feeling too spent and depressed to try and venture the darkness of Equestria.

She sets the throw-projector on the ground next to the bed and climbs onto the sheets. She curls up into a ball and hugs her own tail. Her half-lidded eyes stare into the void.

Her mind screams, swears, and rips at herself for becoming so attached to someone again. The very moment she opened up, the very moment her walls broke down and she let him in… he is gone. The reassurance that he is not dead does little to soothe her self-hatred.

She feels as if she cursed him. She cursed everything to fail and fall apart just because she opened up. She can barely begin a thought, let alone formulate a plan to start looking for him. She knows she will, she feels like she will not stop looking for him until some sort of closure happens. If he dies or she dies, that will be the end of that. But until then, she cannot stop herself from endlessly searching. Nothing else in the world matters anymore. Nothing else.

She would love nothing more than to shrivel up and stop existing in this very moment. Tears begin to run. She does not choke or weep. The trails of sadness move across her face in the total silence of the bunker.

‎

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~ Equestria, the Southeastern Skies ~<
‎ April 12th, Wednesday, 1:57

‎

For the first time in his life, a true lightness courses through his body. At least, as far as he remembers. He cannot recall a feeling quite like this.

As he soars high over the dark nighttime world, through the raining clouds, he contemplates only one thing: his Arch. The essence that allows him to do things he could barely imagine himself. He pays little mind to the cutting winds and the cold rain clouds he blows through, instead relishing the sensation of his power running through his veins. He can almost feel them, every single individual cell in his body that harbors his life essence. It is… peaceful, almost. A stark contrast to the countless times he forced his power to awaken before. Strain, tension, and pain were the words he always thought of first when he contemplated his Arch, but tonight, the antonyms of each of those words are not just what he thinks, but what he feels. It is alive and flowing through him, and it feels… natural.

Even though his wet face, which blows like a missile through the atmosphere, is rested with a blank, almost depressed expression, he feels warm. Happy, maybe. Some sort of positive feeling that is drenched in remorse and regret.

He was right. He wasted his own life with petty vendettas and spite. He acknowledges the feelings that lead him down that path – as a matter of fact, they are still as real as ever. He still feels resentment towards Michael, his Arch, his lineage, but only now does he respect those emotions. He respects them enough now that he does not linger on them or let them control him. He truly understands now that all this has done is make him suffer... but it goes a step beyond acknowledging this now. He knew this all along, but supposes to himself that he was too prideful, in turn, too weak, to truly let go.

His sister would tell him time and time again to let go. The one person he always listened to, a girl whose word was his gospel, and he still did not budge, even at her begging. He knew his stubbornness was a force to reckoned with, but it nearly ruined his life… if it has not already. He cannot know what the near future holds, much less the far, but he hopes it is not too late to fight against the tides of fate.

That reminds him, he should visit Viola again now that he feels he can. He hopes she is not too upset at him, even though she has more than every reason to be. She has every reason to hate him for being so stupid, so god damn inconsiderate and foolish.

The worst of it, he believes, is that she is not the only one. He knows of two others that have every right to hate him for his stupidity.

He now faces the mental wall he knew he would encounter soon enough. On the surface of his muse, he simply picked a direction and flew after escaping Horis. He knows this is simply not true.

He has been flying for a while now. He feels his arm putting itself back together in real time from the hour or so that has elapsed. The rain has stopped falling, but the clouds are still dense.

He does not want to admit where his destination lies, even if he is purposely flying towards it. He tried to rationalize his decision; he obviously cannot return to Canterlot. With both the Horseshoes AND the Consortium working for his death, it is the last place he can show his face.

He briefly thought about returning to Dodge. Go back to his beginnings. With any luck, Dahlia would show up there again and find him. But he second-guessed the idea immediately. Dodge may not be an optimal location to stay in for the long term. With a train station relatively close by and Consortium scouts constantly patrolling it, he would not want to risk a haphazard stumble-upon against his favor. He will take the time to pay the lodge a visit, but he will not show up to stay there.

He tried his mind for another location, and in a brief flash, his mouth became sour. He scolded himself for even thinking of joining Lippy and Autumn to lay low, considering their remote location, but… no. Definitely not.

The more he thought about it, there is no place he can think of to hide himself away and still be relatively close to produce and commerce. He could certainly hide himself in a cave in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, but that will only serve to starve him and be too difficult to manage. He considered starting his own farm somehow, but that is also a lengthy and rather stupid idea. He would rather be far gone from Equestria before that time.

All of these mental plights he had surfed through during his flight served to build the foundation for his current decision. So many things can go wrong, and he is fully aware of this. He only hopes that his presence is not immediately shunned, regardless of being prepared for that outcome. If anything, he holds that the home will still be completely vacant.

This location should be perfect, both for him to be found, and for him to find. Even if his situation quickly became fucked to an astronomical degree due to Magnifying Glass and Horis, Dahlia is more than likely safe. She should be in the clear despite it all, but he could not be certain. Nothing in this godforsaken world is, he ruminates.

Pushing every ‘what-if’ aside, he solidifies his plan in his head. Tonight he will take advantage of his freedom, which was strangely granted with the aid of Horis. Nothing will stop him from putting his life back on track, even if there are none left to ride upon.

He briefly removes himself from his own mind, returning his focus to his flight. He has not looked down at the ground for a few miles, so he supposes he should reorient himself to the world. He stiffens his ethereal wings so he glides. Slowly but surely he loses some height and breaks through the bottom of the dense clouds. Looking down, he sees that he is approaching the east coast, nearing Equestria’s oceans and the harbor cities.

His attention is drawn to one of many beacons of light amidst the night, one bigger than most. The city of Baltimare. Definitely not a place he can go to, considering the condensation of hidden Horseshoes lurking about there. But that matters not, as the city is not his destination. A place hidden away from the bustle of the cities, but not too far from one to still be serviceable in the event he needs something quickly. It is a place that Dahlia could also potentially find him in… and perhaps another pony as well, even if he would rather find the home empty for sanity’s sake.

The risk is worth the reward, he thinks. There are no lurking eyes, wandering guards, or disguised gang members. From what he remembers, it has been left abandoned for weeks, if not months now. Hell, it even has a shield to prevent people or ponies from getting near it. And if anyone were to show up, he would be well aware before they could enter.

It is perfect in almost every way. He sees it now from his height; a dark, lonely spec on the precipice of a forest that travels west, and a quarter of a mile from the beach east. He is not too far from it now.

He begins to flap his wings again, aligning himself towards the home and re-entering the clouds above to hide his approach. He guesstimates the distance he covers before he emerges again.

He finds himself pleasantly surprised at being almost exactly above the home. He mentally compliments his own flying abilities – something he has done barely enough times to count with both hands. He still recalls the awful tumble he took as a child when he tried flight for the first time. A failure to control his elevation drove him like a dart into the wood fence of his grandparents’ home. He broke his right arm and lost two teeth on the landing. How his brother laughed, his dad shook his head in disappointment, and his mother and sister cried tears of anguish. By no means would he consider himself an expert, not even ‘good’ at it. Just well enough to do what he needs to. Dahlia would probably smoke him without even trying. But at least he will not embarrass himself now like he did then.

By this point, his immense speed has dried the rain off of him and his suit. He halts himself by flapping his wings once in a powerful forward counter-motion, ripping the sound barrier from the opposing force. He begins to fall straight down, posture upright and stiff, and he reaches terminal velocity during the long plummet. His eyes squint as he looks down, he holds his lame arm with his good one so it does not flail around wildly like his hair does.

The ground approaches quickly, or more appropriately, the backyard to the modest home does. He silently prays that Dahlia was right about the shield remembering him, or else he will splat like a bug to glass.

Now only meters away from the ground and the shield, he flaps his wings again against the direction of his fall, stopping his speed like whiplash. Wind booms from his powerful action, ruffling all nearby flora and fauna. He peacefully falls through the shield, rushed with relief, and lands on the grass with barely a sound. He faces the far wall of the backyard, towards the small river and the assortment of rocks that once triumphed over him some time ago.

He pulls in a deep, slow breath, and releases it with satisfaction. Safety at last.

He holds great pleasure in finally being alone in a peaceful place to unwind and get himself collected. He turns around towards the home, looking to shower himself off with the wonders of artificially heated water. He walks to the sliding glass door that leads into the house, reaching it and taking his fingertips to the notched handle.

He opens the door and… his blood freezes. He witnesses something that should not be. The hallway that leads to the front door is completely walled off by some sort of multi-colored nebula-like substance which twinkles with golden stars all around. Upon encountering this entity, the faint whispers he has grown accustomed to become louder. A prominent voice from a plane beyond murmurs into his soul. As if a lucid dream came to life, a figment resembling an outstretched appendage reaches from this galaxy-esque body to grasp him.

He grits his teeth angrily. He feels her knocking. And he will be damned if he opens the door of his soul to her.

His irises begin to shine. He debates fleeing, but whispers around him chant, encouraging him to remain put and act. Like flowing magma, he feels high body heat in his chest before it travels out towards his left hand. His body moves according to this otherworldly instinct to preserve itself - the most natural act in the world.

His left fist becomes coated in a thin film of golden light. He reaches out a clawed hand to intercept the thing that approaches him. As if copying him, this figment breaks out into a claw as well, one which aims to grasp him.

His golden hand clasps the opposing hand in the middle of the living room. A tug of war from the soul begins. The whispers become uncontrolled. A cacophony of voices clamor around him. Frantic uttering, whispers, lisps.

She wants him to give in, to allow her to pull him in again. With a clenched jaw, he keeps her at bay.

However, in a fixed instant of surprise, he finds that the energy that is trying to whisk him away begins to mend his broken arm. In real time, the slightly jutting bone and dried blood seep back into his skin, align, and crack into place. The only sign that his arm was ever damaged is the ripped sleeve of his suit.

Suddenly, the attacking claw ceases to exist. It fades like a banished spirit, leaving only Crimson's outreached hand in the center of the room. Complete confusion overtakes his face. He retracts both his physical and metaphysical hand at the same time, the larger one vanishing from existence. He then examines his mended right arm. He flexes his hand, just to make sure nothing is secretly wrong with it.

As soon as this happens, he feels intangible lips speak directly into his ears. “May I?” His eyes dilate at this voice - a feminine timbre that solidifies what he already knew.

“Fate,” he grumbles quietly to himself.

"… May I?" the whisper simply repeats.

Crimson squints at nothing. “Should’a asked nicely from the start.”

Again, from the nebula-filled hallway does the shadowed claw extend. It reaches towards him, he wants to counter its approach as he did before. But he heeds to her plea. He allows himself to be overtaken. His surroundings are blanketed over all around, making him feel as if he were standing in the core of a golden twinkling galaxy.

There, in front of him, he sees her now. Fate. The mare of shrouded unknowingness. Together they now stand suspended in this gleaming realm of stars, moons, and infinite nothing. Her own personal Rift. Rather than have something grounded in reality like he does with his own Rift, this is what she chooses to reside in.

This youthful pony dons a cold expression. Her cyan mane is styled into a prim and proper ponytail, her coat is lavender in color. Crimson beats his brows at the sight of her. His soul is burning in a mix of every emotion that is and will be. His mouth moves to spit venom, but a reservation has him holding back his vile tongue. Instead, he simply says, "Fancy meetin' you here, Fate."

The mare known as Fate looks away briefly, as if taking silent pride that her name was stated. She looks back at him with piercing golden eyes - those which glow exactly as his do. "A quaint turn of phrase, but appropriate. You apprehended me."

"Didn’t say please. You also ain't hidin' behind shades 'n curtains like you did before."

"I am doing nothing different."

"That the case. Then why can I see you now? How come you ain’t some sorta blur like you were before?"

"Something to ask yourself, I'm afraid."

He sees he will not get a clear answer and grunts, "After all this time bullshittin’ me and leavin’ me in the dark… why're you here?"

"I felt a strong yet familiar whisper begin to sing into the Weave, perhaps an hour ago. I was investigating this vigorous whisper… and it led me to you again." Her eyes gloss him up and down, as if staring at nothing particularly impressive. "Your Arch is shining much brighter than it was before, from one moment to the next. Impressive. I began to worry when I lost your whisper some time ago. I assumed the worst."

"My whisper, huh?” he rhetorically asks despite knowing what she is referring to. “What, you think I died?"

"When it became too faint to hear, I did. I'm happy to be mistaken. Now this means you can finally finish this once and for all, and I'm confident your Arch is bright enough to aid you."

The man shakes his head, taking a few steps closer to the mare. "You wait one god damned minute. I ain't gonna finish shit, not ‘till I know what you want from me and why you brought me to this fuckin' place."

"Why so barbaric? I was nothing but amicable last time we spoke. If you have questions, then all you have is to simply ask."

"Barbaric is takin' me away from my home. Barbaric is puttin' me in the middle of god damn nowhere 'n lettin' me rot. Not only did you lie to me last time we spoke, but you fucked me over.”

“I understand you have concerns and curiosities. Please, let us discuss them together.”

“Hrrh,” he grumbles at her dismissing attitude.

“Would you, perhaps, be more comfortable with a change in scenery? While you are in my Rift, I am more than happy to accommodate it for you.”

“Do whatever the fuck you want.”

“… Then, may I ask for you permission once more?”

“For?”

“To reach into your most recent pleasant memory and obtain an environment you are fond of.”

“… So you’re askin’ fer permission now, but you didn’t the first time? When you remade Moonlight’s room?”

“I am not familiar with that name, but if you are referring to the laboratory-bedroom domicile from our first encounter, then yes. I took it upon myself to reach into your mind while your defenses were not raised. I remade that room based on your memory. I wish to apologize for being so forward.”

“I hope you know that I find satisfaction in bein’ able to keep you the fuck away from me now.”

“As you should. Privacy and power complement each other. But, now… may I?”

“If you skulk through anythin’ else while you’re in my head, I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

She simply nods. Without needing to physically move, she appears directly in front of Crimson, floating impossibly in front of his face so that she is at eyelevel with him. She reaches out, gently placing her hoof on his shoulder. The magma in her eyes churn and swirl more energetically.

He feels it, every moment of it. She walks along the creases of his memories, aiming to peek into his most recent ones. She stops right at the front gate of his mind, immediately finding a pleasant environment. A home. A place where he is currently located. A place where she interrupted his arrival moments ago. She lets go of his shoulder, vanishes, and appears back at her previous location a few feet in front of him.

Crimson’s brows line above his eyes as his surroundings starkly pop back to reality. Or some slightly uncanny recreation of it. Everything around him looks normal again, it is Moonlight's home... except something feels… off. The very same sensation he felt when Fate recreated Moonlight’s bedroom in Canterlot.

Fate teleports again once the setting has been made. She sits herself on the middle of the smaller couch, caring not for the home itself. Her focus remains on Crimson, who stands near the sliding door to the backyard. “What is the first curiosity that I may satisfy?”

With clenched fists, he replies. “My whisper. You felt it, you followed it, and now you’re here. Great. What’s that mean fer me? What’s this ‘singing into the Weave’ bullshit?”

“It means that your Arch is truly awake, as it should be. Do you not feel a difference it its flow?”

“Yeah. I do. It ain’t hurtin’ me anymore when I use it. Care to explain that?”

“I do not believe it is necessary for me to answer such a self-explained question.”

“I insist,” he grits through his teeth.

Fate looks down at his cupped hands, finding no amusement from his action. Still, she relents with the looking away of her eyes. “I could not accurately answer such a question. As I said, it pertains solely to you. But I may help you understand the general aspect of your dilemma. Arch Angels – us. We have limitless capabilities. We are truly talented beings and are forces not to be trifled with. But as gifted as we are, there are common mistakes that many young or novice Arch Angels make while learning to use their power. In a way, they use their power incorrectly. Inefficiently.”

A mental spark flashes in Crimson’s mind. He admits only to himself that what she says sounds incredibly correct and familiar.

“It is usually simple to pinpoint the source of these inefficiencies since most Arch Angels fall into a set category in their class. For instance, Angels of Soul. Weave Watchers may attempt to use their power by harnessing their emotions. Too much emotion, at times. The abilities a Watcher possesses require the active avoidance of emotion to channel their skills effectively. String Singers are the opposite. They must harness every available emotion in their realm of reality to fuel their power. Angels of Body have their own criteria, and every sub-category of Arch Angel has their own, etcetera. Even if we ignore these specifics, an attempt to group you into one of the common mistakes others make, it would not help you. You are special. You find yourself in the direct center of a spectrum which encompasses an angel’s genetic skillset. This would likely mean that your power specifically is much harder to harness because it is easier for you to fall into these faults. Your power is balanced between every class of Arch Angel, which also means you can make all of their mistakes, rather than just one. But this also means you can learn to efficiently use every class of Arch. This is what makes you tremendously powerful. The mistakes you make are solely your own to learn from. Whatever feels most natural to you, whatever it is that awoke your power recently… it is safe to assume that is the fuel of your power. A fuel unique to you.”

The information clicks in his mind, and Fate sees this very apparently. She almost smiles at seeing him digest what she said very efficiently.

Crimson speaks up again, now glaring at her grimly. “So because of all this, I’m special enough that you had to take me from my sister at the worst possible fuckin' time. Answer me honestly, Fate. Why’d you really take me away from my home?"

Fate turns her gaze away again, looking towards the kitchen. "Have we not spoken of this before?"

"Yeah, and that explanation you gave before falls flat. I know better now. You said we’re defenders of our homes. If Arch Angels are 'defenders of their homes,’ why in the sam hell 'm I here? Why aren't you takin' care of Equestria?"

The mare keeps her face turned away, blinking listlessly. "... It is necessary."

"Bull fuckin' horseshit."

"There is no need for this hostility."

"Then tell me how it is. You did this, and you left me in the dark the first time we spoke. You didn't give me the full picture on purpose. I don't care what was goin’ on with Equestria or the fuckin' Weave when you took me away. I’m askin’ you why. Why’d you take me away?"

Her expression hardly changes, but subtly shows something akin to being mildly impressed. "I indeed left out certain aspects of conversation willingly, but it was done with the intention to allow your growth to naturally occur."

"I'll take a shit on yer 'natural growth.' You lied to me. And you know what? I think you've fucked over more than just me." This comment garners her attention, she now looks to him directly. "Heidi? Name ring a bell?"

The dull and expressionless Fate finally displays an emotion: astoundment. Her eyes widen, her pupils shift directly to him. “H-How do you know that name?" she asks hurriedly.

"Aren't you a 'Watcher'? Can't you 'observe' me? What happened to that?"

"I already explained to you that your whisper was lost some time ago. My soul could not find yours even with my most concentrated attempt. And now that your Arch shines and I am able to listen to your whisper, you have learned how to push away my approach. I could only now find you to speak to you again – something which I’ve been yearning to do for some time."

"Ch. Some Watcher you are.”

“Crimson,” she firmly states. “What is the significance of bringing that Arch Angel into this discussion?”

“Hmh. So you do know her.”

“Please. Answer my question.”

His eyes narrow further, noting her rather stark change in demeanor after he brought up the aforementioned woman. “Cherry to oblige. I had to fuckin’ kill her.” Her eyes expand even further at this revelation. “When I found her, it was like she couldn’t control her own body. I had to put down another one of our kind like a god damned dog. Tell me, 'Fate.' Did you ruin her life too?"

"I had no hoof in her placement in Equestria. She may have already been here. I assume long before the Great War ended. Her origin is that of Equus’ humanity, but in this particular string of time, you are likely better informed than I in the subject."

“’May’ have already been here?” So you’re sayin’ you don’t know when she came around?”

“I do not.”

Crimson takes one step towards Fate, causing her to pull her head back with something akin to fear. “… Miss Fate. What you just said then… was bullshit.” Her heart skips at being found out. “’N I suggest you don’t fuckin’ lie to me again. Or you’ll be dead faster than you can blink.”

Fate shifts her eyes away, squinting at nothing in particular. “… I would like to apologize—”

“I don’t need a fuckin’ apology. I need the truth.”

“T-Then, allow me to satisfy your concern with Heidi first. Would that be okay?” His vicious front does not relent, but he nods once. “Thank you. You had emphasized that she could not control her own body.”

“Yeah. Her Arch…” he trails off, failing to find the words to explain.

“What of it?”

“… It was all fucked up. Grey. Sad. Just the sight of it made me depressed. What happened to her?”

“Ah, I see. Interesting. If what you say is true, she experienced a phenomenon called a ‘fade away.’ Fading away is what occurs when the fuel that keeps your Arch alive, motivated, and powerful is exhausted. This can happen for many reasons, with the two greatest causes being denying its growth or lacking stimulation. Arch Angels need physical, mental, and spiritual fuel, which comes from whatever source that stimulates them. Different classes of angels pull stimulation from sources unique to them. A neglect of stimulation or fuel will cause their Arch to fade away.”

“… We can lose our Arch?”

Fate shakes her head. “No, we do not lose our Arch. Our Arch loses… us. It will remain in our bodies. It can even expand and become more powerful, even if it has faded away. The term is much more metaphorical than it is literal. Our Arch will never leave our bodies, no matter how tarnished the holder becomes, but it will be… broken. If you have made it this far in your development, then I'm certain you've met your True Self."

"... 'True Self?' Is that what you call my condescending-ass ghost?"

She nods once. "It is what I call mine as well, along with every other angel. Your True Self is the perfect reflection of your soul. You in your most unbiased state. What the soul desires is rationalized in a plane far beyond what an organic mind could reach. Your decision-making with your True Self is always wise and well-informed. Listening to your True Self is a must for any angel's growth. But. Once an angel has faded away due to their fuel being depleted, your True Self becomes... your Worst Self. A self which will work time and time again to put you down. To convince you, sometimes force you, to make decisions and feel certain ways that will ruin your life."

"Jesus, I couldn't imagine if that bastard got any worse. He's already a lot to handle."

"In your case, it is for the best that he is untoward. Your Worst Self will be even more to handle, which would bode terribly for your already-shattered mental fortitude. Fading away takes place only after the total destruction of an angel's wit."

His eyes fall to the ground briefly. His nose wrinkles in distaste at envisaging the scenario necessary for this phenomenon. It leads him to follow up a burning question. "... Why's it turn from gold to grey?"

"I could not explain why its coloration does this. All that I am certain of is that it is a very obvious indication that an Arch Angel has faded.”

“Reckon there ain’t no way to come back from this.”

“That is something I could not answer confidently. Perhaps it is possible, but I myself have never seen it happen. Assuming that one cannot revert a fade away may be safer, but not concrete.”

“... Her Worse Self. ... I guess that explains why I found her in the place that I did... couldn't imagine what was goin' on inside her soul.”

“I hope my explanation of the state of her Arch was sufficient.”

“It was. You know a lot about it.” He clenches his fists harder, glaring her down with the burning fury of his golden irises. “’N you didn’t think that could’ve happened to me?”

“... It was always a possibility.”

“Eat shit.”

“Crimson," she starts with a submissive tone while lowering her head. "I know your displacement has caused you much heartache. But please disclose your next concern. I wish to satisfy each one.”

"The one you keep skirtin’ around. The truth. And the moment you try lyin' to me again, I promise on my own grave that I’ll put you in the ground. You're like me, and I'm like you. I’ll call yer shit out before it comes outta yer mouth. So pick yer words wisely."

"Yes, you are like me, an Angel attuned in Soul. I know better than to lie to one such as myself."

"Yeah. That explains why you just finished lying to me." He glowers at her, taking a few more steps until he stands just before her. "And I know Fate ain't yer real name. So let's sever the head. Who are you, 'n what's yer name?"

"Please, sit. If you would." She waves the man towards the larger couch.

Crimson bounces his eyes between her and the offered seat. It takes a full downward push on his emotion to oblige, but he does. He takes a step backwards and to the left, glaring at her the entire way to the couch. He takes a seat and leans forward, elbows rested on his knees. He gestures his hand, beckoning her to speak.

"... My name is not Fate," the mare begins. "It is simply a title I have gained in the Weave. I am Lillian Lullaby, an Arch Angel of Soul. My attunement to Weave Watching, displacement, and general string maintenance has earned me the title 'fate.'"

"So yer specialty is ruinin' other people's lives."

"You have the wrong perception of me. My specialty is displacement. As in, displacing myself. I rarely displace other Arch Angels, or other instances of myself, as that may cause severe timeline inconsistencies and can potentially ruin an entire web. Not to say I have not, an obvious telling being yourself.”

“Wait… you can send yourself around?”

“I believe that is a given.”

“Is it? Because you made it sound like you can move around other ‘instances’ of yerself. Not just you,” he throws a palm which faces the ceiling at her.

“Correct. Other instances of myself can be moved. I am not the only me.”

“… The fuck.”

“Please provide me another concern.”

Crimson presses his thumb and pointer finger against his eyes, rubbing out both stress and overstimulation from the information he is receiving. With a sigh, he continues. “When you sent me here, why couldn’t I think straight? It felt like my body was movin’ on its own, and I’m ripe to assume it was yer fault.”

“You are mistaken. All I am responsible for is lifting you into my Rift and setting you down in Equestria. Where, specifically, in Equestria you are placed is not entirely up to me.”

“That’s a lie,” the man grumbles as his eyes flash even brighter for a brief second, ready to rise from the couch. Lillian furrows her brows and frowns. “I’ll have yer fuckin’ head, bitch.”

Lillian falls silent for a moment and closes her eyes, sucking in a tense breath before looking to him again. “Y-Yes. Again, my apologies for the untruth, even if minor. Your power is much more attuned than I anticipated. It makes me confident that you will continue to overcome every wall you will ever face.”

“The only wall I’m facin’ right now is you.” He lifts his right fist in her direction. “And the sledgehammer is right fuckin’ here.”

“Please, Crimson. I beg your pardon once more. The lie was based purely off the embarrassment I would feel admitting that there was a gap in my abilities. Let us not resort to violence for an innocent mistake.”

“When I said don’t lie, I fuckin’ meant don’t lie. No matter what it is.”

“Yes, I understand. Then, allow me to rectify my mistake and return us to our current topic. As I said, I lifted you to my Rift and placed you in Equestria. I had intended to place you directly in the chambers belonging to the Princess of the Sun, and allow your venture to begin from there, but… the truth is that my abilities of Weave Watching are still not perfectly refined. There was a margin of error in your relocation, and you were subject to it.”

“Guess nobody really is perfect,” he says mockingly.

“No matter how powerful you think you are, there will always be room to grow. This is a truth for many things, but especially for Arch Angels.”

“None of this answers my head-fog when I woke up.”

“I have no answer for you. As I said, I only moved you to Equestria. That is the extent of my actions. I would like to assume your lack of mental cognition had to do with your near-death experience. Your Arch was extremely weak when I first plucked you from your string. It barely kept you alive. You were lucky to have another Arch Angel at your side who is beautifully trained in her craft. You may as well have had the same mortality as a normal human, which would be indescribably pathetic for an angel attuned in Body.”

“Well that ain’t very nice, Lillian. What happened to civility?”

“I meant no disrespect, of course. It is merely an observation.”

“Whatever. What were you sayin’ before? About displacin’ folks?”

“Yes. I have displaced other Arch Angels from time to time, but I do so very rarely, and with great care. Normally, I displace my own self across Equestria's strings where I do not exist. I aid the strings closest to mine as best I can before returning here, to my home. Mind you, I do not move other iterations of myself, but truly ‘me.’ The other versions of myself have been successful in keeping their own eras of Equestria safe. They need not my help.”

Crimson notes the tapering in her tone, causing him to don an inquisitive look. “The way you’re soundin’ makes me think something's wrong.”

“… That is because… there is.” She locks her eyes firmly on the man who glares spitefully in return. “Crimson. Would you allow me the opportunity to explain my circumstances? With this information, the truth will be yours to see. The one you have been asking me for.” Crimson firmly nods once. “Thank you. I plead that you give me your undivided attention and your utmost patience while I relinquish this information to you.”

“I can promise you that at least one of those things is all yours.”

Her stress begins to radiate like an invisible fog. She takes in a deep breath, holds in for a moment, and lets it out. Her eyes shimmer a bit more vibrantly during her exhale. “… Then, I will first provide you all of the necessary details so that you may understand how I wound up where I am today.”

Again, Crimson nods once in acceptance.

“I was conceived by my parents during the latter half of the Great War. My mother, an Arch Angel unicorn, and my father, a regular earth pony, were killed when I was five years of age. I was in my early childhood when I was forced to bear witness to nearly every atrocity that war and violence could bring. My first true experience with my Arch was when I used it to find and kill the aggressors who murdered my family.”

Crimson’s expression softens slightly. Only slightly.

“As a homeless and family-less filly, I roamed Equestria, trying to stay alive. I used my Arch to defend myself from those who wished to take my life, changeling, dragon, and pony alike. I knew, even as a child, that I would need to love and grow my gift if I was going to survive in this terrible world I was born in. And I did. I spent every moment I could learning about myself. Speaking to myself. Listening to myself. I became enthralled with what I was capable of. I turned from barely able to survive on my own to thriving despite all odds. The enjoyment of being able to help myself eventually branched out to providing assistance to others. I gave a hoof to those in my home world, to all those pure of heart who needed the help. Eventually, I extended further.”

Her eyes shift up to the popcorn ceiling, using them as a place to rest her eyes as she continues to divulge speech.

“I learned how to enter my Rift. I learned how to tear open my Rift. I learned how to peer into the sea of time. I learned how to reach my spirit-arm into other strings to help them. And because of this, I became one of the Weave’s most powerful Watchers. The same can be said about many of my other iterations. The majority of us have the same upbringing, thus, the same outcome. I have not ventured far enough from my own string to see what came of my other iterations with vastly different beginnings. Nor do I want to. Such is the case with nearly every Arch Angel. In the event an angel learns to look into the sea of time, it is in their best interest not to travel too far from one’s home string, lest they become lost in the forever-infinity that is the sea, never to return home.”

Crimson continues to digest what she says, nodding in understanding.

“All of this exposition leads me to explain my... current circumstances. I’ve learned from watching my other iterations that humans in Equestria is... not normal. The fact that humankind bled through the fabric of reality and into my world was an anomaly on its own. I could not be sure what was the driving factor which caused my world to be different from the other Lillians who exist, but... that is the world I was introduced to. I thought it was normal, until I saw that it wasn’t.”

“... Y’know, I thought it was just me. Every fuckin’ pony in Equestria thinks humans bein’ there is normal. But with what you’ve said, it gives fact to what I was feelin’ inside. Their presence just never felt right.”

“Because it is not. Even if I am ignorant as to how they arrived, I know that they do not belong. They belong in their own world, with their own troubles and toils. Not here, in Equestria.”

“So, what’s this all leadin’ up to?”

“As I said, this all culminates to the circumstance I am currently present in. I learned the ability to peer into other worlds. Yours included, because it was so close by to my string. Humanity tainted my world. It caused my string to taper off into something that other iterations of me could never imagine... and Heidi was the stroke of paint which finalized my ruined canvas.”

“Heidi?”

She nods solemnly. “She was the Arch Angel who belonged in the human world, before whatever mishap caused her to appear in Equestria. Her task was to save her own world from catastrophe, whatever it was. I do not know anything about her home, save that she was taken from it at the worst time. Just like you, but for very different reasons. Yours has purpose. Hers was... unceremonious. It had no rhyme or reason. She did not deserve it, but it happened anyway. She was taken from her world. Her passion for life met a bitter end. Everything that mattered to her was taken away. Just like you.”

“She was... from the Great War?” Lillian nods once. “That would mean she's hundreds of years old. How?”

“Arch Angels are known to live several-times worth of their species’ lifetimes. Your aging slows greatly in your prime - whatever year that happens to be for your species.”

Crimson lines his lips bitterly.

“I will continue. I spent my years alive on Equestria focusing solely on my Weave Watching abilities. Using my attuned prowess, I could listen keenly on whispers. Whispers of the Rift and beyond. Whispers of other Arch Angels in other strings. It was how I knew when someone needed assistance." She takes a moment to inhale softly, then releases it with equal melancholy. "When I was nineteen, during a rather cold spring season, one whisper out of the infinite I was listening to became terribly loud. Crying, even."

"... Heidi's whisper."

She nods, gloom lathering her neutral expression. "This was when I first heard her whisper become so close. Dying, and faint. As soon as I heard it, I followed it for as long as I could. Long enough to find her. ... As much as I wished to help her, to give her a hoof and a shoulder to weep upon... she hated this world. She hated Equestria, me, the ponies who lived here, the dragons and changelings who attacked us... everything.”

“... You wanted to help Heidi?”

Again, she nods with ears falling to her head. “More than anything else. She was the one thing I could not give assistance to. She simply refused it. But, to recant earlier details, I found her in a cave, very far to the south in the Appleloosan Mountains. Before you ask, I have no idea how she managed to find a place such as this. The fact is that she did. And I followed her whisper, and that is where it led me – to the mountain’s innards. The cave was no ordinary cave. It was deep. It held a throne, pillars of ancient, beautiful carvings, a mess hall... nearly an entire Castle. One could even assume it to be a forgotten kingdom. She was alone in this paradise-like ruin which was constructed before the Great War was but a concept.”

“... Them mountains,” he hums in thought. “Same ones where the Doyens were. What was she doin’ all alone in this underground castle?”

“Seclusion, if I must guess. She refused to rise from the throne. She sat there, spitefully ruing her circumstances. But there was something special about the throne itself that, at that time, she refused to explain to me. I would come and go from this underground burrow, doing my best to appease her by bringing her food and water. But she never ate. She never drank. And she never slept. I ignored this. I would continue my attempts to help her, explain to her that she should help ponykind win the War so we could sooner work to return her and her people home. She deemed it all pointless and refused my offer. Every day that I would revisit her and speak to her, the angrier she became with me.”

“With the War goin' on, shit hittin' the fan... pretty damn sure I'd feel somethin' similar. But it don't mean I'd give up like she did.”

“Regardless of the mentality which led Heidi to this decision, there was no reasoning with her. And at that time, I became fed up as well. She went farther than not helping ponykind. She refused to help herself. She was a very, very powerful Arch Angel. Grand in stature, beautiful in appearance, and incredibly resilient. The mark of the Body. An angel of Tower.”

Her half-lidded, reminiscing eyes become sharp and squinted.

“It was spirit-culling that she would waste this potential by being stubborn. One fateful day, enraged that she had let her life become a waste, I forcefully removed her from the throne which she refused to come off from... and in that instant, she attacked me. She decided in that moment to duel me to the death. I defended myself as best as I could. But as you might guess, an Arch Angel of Soul versus an angel of Body in a close-quarters combat situation is... one-sided at best. In a final attempt to rationalize with her, I forcefully abducted her into my Rift. I tried speaking to her without the weight and burdens of our mortal bodies, but again, she attacked me. And she slew me.”

“What?” Crimson blurts his atheism. “She... killed you? In yer Rift?”

She slowly nods twice. “It was... something even I did not understand at the time. As it turns out, an Arch Angel can kill another Arch Angel in the Rift. It does not matter who’s Rift it is. I could have slain Heidi just as easily as she did me. And she would suffer the consequence. This may surprise you... but the consequence is not death.”

His brows raise to crinkle his forehead.

“It is not as eternal as death. A severance, you may call it. What occurs when you are slain in the Rift is not a blackened world. It is not the afterlife. No. A slain Arch Angel in the Rift will remain alive there, in the Rift. They will persist there, just as any angel who dies. But their connection to their body will be severed. They will not be able to return to their body, even if the body is not dead.”

“Wait, wait, wait... this is doin’ works in my head. You just said the body ain’t dead. We ‘persist’ in the Rift. But we get killed?”

“As I said, we are killed, but death is not the consequence. Our soul loses its connection to the real world, rendering our mortal vessel useless unless forcefully mended by another Arch Angel.”

"... Safe to say Heidi weren't lookin' to fix you up."

"It goes with out saying..."

“... Shit. That’s as bad as just straight up dyin’. The hell goes on with our bodies when this happens? Heart’s still beatin’ since you said we’re still alive. What, they just lie there asleep, dehydratin’ ‘n starvin’ to death?”

“... Yes.”

“... God damn.” His jaw clenches his left and right mullers one after the other for about two seconds. "... So since we're here, in yer Rift... can I kill you again?"

"Heidi herself had tested that theory. I can no longer suffer harm. If you attacked me, nothing would happen to me. For what you see now is... solely my soul. Though you can attack it, me, it will not suffer physical harm. Do you wish to try it?"

He can sense fully that she is not lying. He looks down to his right hand which balls into a fist. Death threats have no meaning to her. At least, not here. "... I'm good."

Lillian nods before continuing. "Then, this is where my dilemma comes to light. Heidi slew me, rendering me unable to return to my body. ... I’m... not certain what sort of altruism remained in a spirit like hers, but after she and I both realized what had been done to me, she expressed remorse. It was then that Heidi explained that the throne she was perched upon was enchanted with a power that had been lost to time. A throne which allowed whoever sat on it to remain vigilant. Awake. Hydrated. And satiated. A magic throne which gave immortality to the one who sat on it.”

“... Christ. A chair that can keep you alive forever? No hunger? No thirst?”

“And no sleep. And one would never age a day.”

“Why? Why was she sittin’ on it?”

She releases another sigh, a breath built up by mulling bad memories. “... She told me, ‘I want to be alive long enough to see this world burn to the ground. I won’t do it. But one day, someone else will. And I will come off this throne in the same health as the day that my world was taken from me.’”

Crimson’s teeth grit tightly before he too needs to push out a sigh.

“... I could not know of the dark hatred that ran through her spirit. But she showed but one moment of mercy to me... as she had lifted my puppet-like vessel and sat it upon the throne.”

His eyes bulge. “That means you’re still alive.”

“... Indeed. And this is what I am referring to as ‘my current circumstances.’ I wish nothing more but to be alive again. And the possibility is there. I... simply need assistance.”

“... Wait a minute. Wait a damn minute." His front straightens like a brick wall. "Does this mean... you’re about to ask me for help?”

“... Yes, Crimson. This is where I wish to ask you for your assistance, and to finally give you the truth for your belonging in Equestria. I brought you to my world... so that you may help me.”

“Let me get this straight. You took me away from my home. And now you want my help?"

“... It was the only way.”

“Was it now? Was it really the only way? You couldn’t have asked before you took me away from my home? You couldn’t explain everythin’ from the start? You couldn’t have made this entire fuckin’ ordeal easier on me by just tellin’ me what you wanted me to do!? Shit, you couldn't let me say NO!?”

Lillian bows her head further the more exasperated he becomes. "Y-Yes, I know full-well that this is unfair to you, Crimson. I was afraid. You are completely in the right. I should have told you. I beg of you. I need this."

"What you need doesn't concern me. What I want is to see my sister happy. Now I'm stuck in this damn place, ruining the lives of the folk I meet."

Suddenly, she stops, as if thinking deeply about what is being said. “... Are you intentionally ruining their lives?”

“Course fuckin’ not.”

“Then why would you say it?”

“Because I-- … I only guess that I am.”

"Is that an educated guess?"

“Call it whatever you want.”

“What brings you to this conclusion?”

Caring not if she knows what he is talking about, he vents. “If you would'a never sent me here, Dahlia'd still be treasure huntin'. Moonlight would be happy in this home, not stuck in a place she hates. The Elite wouldn’t have had to put with my untimely intervention. Not to mention a number of other folk whose lives were changed or ended because of me. Your screwup shouldn’t have been my sufferin’."

"... May I ask you again for permission? To look inside your memories and... learn of the world which I could not be apart of?"

"And why the hell should I give you that courtesy?"

"I have nothing to offer you but my begging. Please, Crimson..."

Keeping his heart contained, he grits fiercly at her. "Yer pleads are worth nothin'. I'll let you, but because I'm bein' fuckin' nice. You get that?"

"Y-Yes. I understand."

"The same rule applies. The moment you go further than you need to with my memories, you can count everythin’ off the fuckin’ table.”

“On all that I am, I promise. I will only see what I need to so I may understand.”

"... Then do it.”

“Thank you, Crimson,” she murmurs earnestly. “Thank you.” He says nothing further, simply gazing straight forward into the dark kitchen.

Lillian suddenly appears next to him, as if she was sitting there the whole time. She reaches again to hold his shoulder. A conglomerate of emotions returns to both of them. Like a finger picking at his brain, every memory she taps into causes him to wrinkle his nose.

Then it all stops. Lillian takes her hoof off from his shoulder, setting it down in front of her next to the other hoof. She, too, now gazes blankly forward. "... This is... much worse than I imagined,” the mare starts, causing Crimson to glare at her immediately.

“Is it?” he states feverishly. “What’s wrong? What’s happenin’ that ain’t good?”

“You should know. The return of Horis.”

“Is his return really that bad?”

“I could not know for certain if this is the end, but... I have never witnessed a string where Horis returns. Every other Lillian I have seen does not contain his return. Such powerful and volatile magic condensed into one madpony... this could potentially damn us all.”

Crimson’s face scrunches with fury. He glares forward at nothing towards the kitchen again. “Well fuck it. I’ve got folks I care about. I won’t let this son of a bitch take anythin’ more away from me.”

“And I could help you,” she calls quickly. “I-If you use your mending soul on my physical form, you may be able to bridge my severed connection. Together, we could fight Horis.”

“Seriously? You really think I’m gonna trust you on that?”

“You know if I am lying. And you know for certain that I am not. Please, Crimson.”

Her echoing voice comes from so close now that she is sitting right next to him. Two decisions rack around in his head viciously. Two decisions that may lead to two very different outcomes. Resurrect Fate and trust her to help fight Horis... or leave her be. Forget this interaction ever happened, and deal with the newforming menace on his own.

Crimson stands up from the couch, walking towards the sliding door. He turns to face her, giving her a spiteful glare. “As fucked up as it is... I understand Heidi’s decision. If I was any lesser of a man... I’da done the same.”

“Crimson,” she repeats in gradual despair.

“You took away what’s mine. My home. My sister. What I earned. My life. You took everythin' from me... I don’t think I can forgive you fer that.”

Lillian’s eyes widen, her ears perk up... then, they fall flat on her head and her eyes come to a squint. “... I beg of you.”

“Least I heard you out. You didn’t even give me that before you ruined my life.”

“... Please.”

He turns around again and takes his right hand to the sliding door. He opens it and steps out, saying nothing further. He feels her gaze piercing the back of his head, yet he does not acknowledge her anymore. He walks out towards the center of the backyard and closes his eyes.

He feels everything melt around him even if he does not see it. Like passing his soul through a spiritual doorframe, he ejects himself from her Rift, being placed back into Equestria. His surroundings reform again, the world pieces itself back together as molded clay.

He stands in the middle of the backyard garden, facing the back wall, the stream, and the line of rocks. Silence. Nothing but the gentle winds and ambience of the night. A moment of peace which is anything but peaceful. As he idles here, he digests everything that was told to him, everything he now knows. It causes a weight in his chest so dense that he can barely keep tears from forming and running. When the first droplet releases itself from the corner of his left eye, his fists clench fiercely.

“... You... bastard,” he utters quietly. “... You. Bastard.” His tone elevates. Then, with a sucking of breath through his teeth, he finally cries his anger and frustrations out into the night. “You BASTARD!”

After his cathartic release, he remains put in the middle of the backyard by himself under the moon's gaze. Tears come from his chin, staining his chest and the grass below.

He could scream his heart out more, if only to justify the hurt in his spirit at the unfairness of his situation. Despite what he feels, he cannot further afford to release his emotion that way. If anyone around who wants him dead had happened to hear that...

…

... Well, he is here. A home fully complimented with whatever he wants. He ponders briefly on the thing he wanted to originally do.

A warm shower. Maybe that will help wash away some of the pain seeping from every pore in his body. So he supposes he should do that. No matter how pointless it all feels.

“Maybe the shower will get taken away from me too...”

He spins about-face and returns to the house. During his walk over, he barely registers the utterly horrified mare that stares back at him from the opened sliding door. His lazy, jaded eyes lift from the grass to her, taking about eight seconds for his face to contort with dismay once his furled mind finally registers what he sees.

Moonlight, pale as snow, stares back at him from the frame of the door. She gawks as if she is bearing witness to an eldritch horror. Mouth agape, pupils trembling, her breath picks up in pace.

They simply stare at each other for far too long. This serves only to make Moonlight’s frantic breaths even more hectic. She panics in place, unable to act, unable to think. Unable to breathe.

Crimson’s shock-raised brows twitch. She starts to choke. Her vibrating pupils fall to the grass. She takes one step backwards, ends up stepping on the slack of the deep blue scribe robe she wears, and slips onto her rear.

Crimson’s body burns horridly. He barely realizes that he already began moving towards her - his mind stuck in purgatory.

Nothing feels real. Nothing feels right. Neither of them understand what is happening.

Like a puppet on a string, Crimson reaches Moonlight in the living room and he slumps down onto the ground next to her. He reaches out and pulls her in by her robe, resting her head on his lap. His eyes glow listlessly, coursing his power into her locked-up body.

An overwhelming mixture of mental and physical pain stiffens him. Her very core begins to scream and cry to him, her voice is overlapping maniacally. This mixed with the almost unbearable agitation coursing through him effectively snaps him back to reality. He now comprehends what is happening. She is having a heart attack.

Panic sprints through Crimson. In this moment, his brokenness and despondency leaves him, instead his focus becomes Moonlight. One of the dearest things he cares for is now in his mercy. His body smolders in agony as he pulses her heart, trying to get its rhythm back and stop the palpitations from killing her. He inexplicably feels weaker as he keeps tending to her, and he cannot understand why. This should not be taxing him so fiercely, but it is. Anguish from every physical and emotional direction does not seem to end. The voices of Moonlight do not relent – emissions of agony and torment he never thought he would ever hear from such a meek mare.

As he focuses in funneling his Arch to aid her, he hardly realizes the clean gashes forming upon his forearms. If his right sleeve was not torn, he would have missed it completely. His disbelief is erased when he bears witness to the color of her coat fill back from a ghostly pale blue to her original pastel color.

With a trembling right hand, he moves to lift one of the little mare’s robe sleeves. His eyes dilate with shock. Several roads of evenly spaced horizontal cuts travel from the joint of her hoof and foreleg, all the way up towards her chest. They disappear from sight as they are stolen by him and reappear on his arms.

He is startled when she speaks suddenly, so quiet and weak it almost blends amidst the endless cries that attack his mind.

“You’re not real… … you’re not real…” Her mouth moves. She speaks these words. He rides the same sentiment she does. “You’re not real…” Her breathing begins to regulate again. The heart attack seems to be subsiding. “You’re… you’re not real…” The tears that race down her face have wetted his lap. His own tears, which run with equal vigor, do the same. “You’re… not real… you’re… you’re not…”

Her words fade. They drown out at the same time her eyelids fall.

“You’re… … yh… hn…” The pain stops completely when her consciousness flickers out. Crimson is left with her resting form on his lap.

Thunder rumbles outside. The storm seems to be traveling their way. They remain together amidst the dark, cold night.

Nothing feels real.

‎

~~~~<

‎

At some point through the night, the storm had reached east Equestria. Crimson has sat himself on the reclining sofa chair in Moonlight’s room, having rested the unconscious mare herself on her own bed.

Hours have passed, but he could not be sure how many. If any, even. It is still night from what he can tell. It feels as if he as been sitting here for a lifetime, waiting for her to come to. He spent this time sitting on the chair, staring blankly forward, blinking on autopilot. He had not moved an inch, neither had Moonlight. Not one cohesive track of thought has passed through his mind, and he is aware of this. It strikes him that, that in itself is a cohesive thought. Thinking about being unable to think about anything is still a thought. A terribly useless thought that wasted nothing but time.

…

Nothing feels real.

“… Huh…”

A huffed breath escaped the sleeping mare. He thought she would remain asleep until morning. His eyes and head crane towards her, finally breaking his stiff monotony. He watches as her body struggles against her mind, the unsteady phase of waking up but still being asleep.

“… Huh… nnhuh…”

Her eyes lull open, but it is apparent she is still asleep. Maybe some sort of fever dream that she is trying to snap out of. Pity wells inside him at seeing her struggle, but he knows it is only a matter of time.

“Huh… gh—huh...” her chest puffs up, causing Crimson to furrow his brows. “Huh-gh-hgh—”

He leans forward, getting a closer look to see if she is oka—

“HUH!”

Startled, Crimson sits back in the recliner with widened eyes. Moonlight herself has suddenly shot up from her laying position, now sat up and staring forward with popping eyes and grains for pupils. The man stays silent as to allow her to reacclimate to her surroundings.

She does not look like she is calming down. Her eyes dart short distances left and right, until she tardily realizes his presence. She now glares at him, unhinged-like as her pupils remain totally dilated.

The silence between them becomes very uncomfortable. Crimson feels a frog in his throat, and Moonlight is far from looking like she is ready to speak.

“… Hh—” Crimson tries voicing… something. He does not know what he even wanted to say, simply starting something to end the silence. He fails terribly when his throat catches, ending him before he began.

“You.” Moonlight says unnaturally firmly. Her eyes, still tiny and trembling, do not look away from his. “You…”

Crimson clenches his teeth.

“… You’re not real. You’re not here.”

His jaw pops from clenching his teeth so hard. His body finally works the gears to divulge speech. “… I am.”

Moonlight’s body shivers from her muzzle to her hoof, taking in the deep drawl of his voice. It is undeniably real. “… Y-You can’t… you can’t be real. W-Why are… how are… you…”

“I’m… sorry fer intruding, I… I didn’t know you were home…”

“Cr…” Her mouth stops at that vowel, hesitating to finish the whole word. The man says nothing, giving her all the time in the world to say what she wants to… or rather, what she does not want to. “… Crim… son…”

The man puts up a painfully fake smile, holding it long enough to say, “… Howdy… Moonlight.”

Again, chills pass through her body when her name is said. The heating of her body and the tensing of her chest, the indicators she always feels before she begins to cry, yet her eyes do not water. They feel dry and tired. “… How…?” A brief pause breezes after her single word. “… How are you… here?”

Crimson takes a moment to lap around the question. He is forced to confront the wall that he felt coming. With everything she just went through, the utter chaos that Canterlot became for not only him, but for her as well, it was foolish to think she would not have retreated far away and isolated herself… and yet, here he is. Ruining her peace. He supposes the least he can do is try to explain himself, and maybe, just maybe, apologize with whole-hearted sincerity for the way he treated her. She did not deserve this, but he deserved everything he got until now. Maybe it was destiny for them to wind up here again, glaring at each other like deer in headlights in the darkness of her dimly lit bedroom.

Looking down from her and towards the sheets, Crimson licks his lips to try to prepare his excuses. “… I… flew here. With my Arch. I was… I was arrested. The Guard took me in after… y’know.” He looks up at her briefly, to which her trembling eyes speak acknowledgement without need for speaking. “… They took me on a train, and…” He stops. He thinks that perhaps detailing the events of Horis or his own execution is not the soundest idea, considering her completely shattered mental health. “… And, I… I managed to get away. I just... I couldn't think of another place I'd rather be than here. A place that's... safe. That I actually like. ... And... maybe... just maybe, find you here again. Like I said, I beg yer pardon for intruding. Be more than willin’ to leave if you’d prefer it.”

Moonlight has not removed her eyes from him. The sheer aggressiveness of her locked-on staring is strangely making him squeamish, even if he does not shuffle around or try to adjust himself for awkwardness’s sake. A thick silence encompasses them before the mare speaks. “… You,” she says very firmly.

He looks up at her, pursing his lips again.

“You broke-- … you broke your promise. You didn’t… you didn’t take care of yourself, like you said you would. You were nearly killed. Then you disappeared. I-- I counted. I counted the days. You were gone. Gone from me. For fifty-nine days. Fifty. Nine. Whole days. And then, you come back. From nowhere. To kill… him. Magnifying Glass. He tried to… hurt me… and you came back. And stopped him.” As she was speaking, her body seems to be restarting its regular function and grounding itself. Her eyes have slowly expanded to their regular size, her constant tremors have ceased. She continues to stare at him, dreary and depressed. “… Why?”

“… Why?” he repeats, unsure of what she is implying.

“Why did you return, just to save me? I know you don’t care about me. I know I don’t matter to you. So… why?”

“That couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

“Then why did you break your promise? I trusted you, even though I knew I shouldn’t have. And you almost got yourself killed again.”

“It…” He clenches his fists. “I… I’m sorry. There was a lot goin’ on, and… my team. They were gonna die if I hadn’t done anythin’.”

Obviously dissatisfied with this answer, Moonlight tilts her head at him and continues. “To make matters worse, you lied to me. You not only broke your promise, but you lied to me.”

“When?” His expression becomes intense, his brows furrow deeply.

Only now does she let her grim gaze fall from him, down towards the carpet near the door of her room. “… You said… you weren’t interested in… my kind. You said you didn’t see us that way.”

Confusion overtakes his face.

“You started dating Lightheart, right after you told me you weren’t romantically interested in ponies.”

“What!?” His clenched fists pop as he sits up on the chair, almost falling out of it. “Who in the god damn world told you that stupid lie!?”

Moonlight lifts her orbs to him again. A wave of emotional searing pangs him when a tiny, depressed smile puts itself on her lips. “The same pony you killed for trying to hurt me.”

“Moonlight, that piece of shit lied to you! He tried usin’ you! Hell, he tried raping you! Why’re you taking that scumbag’s words to heart!?”

“… Maybe he wasn’t the stallion we all thought he was… but he seemed to know a lot about you… and the secrets you might have had.”

The accusation lights his soul on fire. “M-… Moonlight, I can’t believe the words comin’ outta yer mouth right now. You’re tellin’ me you really believe that rat bastard. You believe that I went outta my way to have a thing with Lightheart.”

“What other reason did you have to visit Las Pegasus on the twenty-third of last month?”

“I—It—” He stops again. His brain sparks briefly at the information presented by her. The fact that she knows the specific day, even admitting she tracked the individual days, stops him momentarily. “I… I wasn’t… I wasn’t there to meet her. She weren’t even there, she was out doin’ some sorta field project. All I wanted to know was how to get this fuckin’ thing off.” He reaches to the collar and yanks it with enough force to cause it to spark, even if it was not intentional to pull it that hard. “Magnifyin’ was there. He’s the one who told me where she was. Matter of fact, I had asked that scoundrel how you were doin’. I asked him to give you my best regards… and you know what he told me…”

Moonlight rightens her head from its tilted position, only to tilt it the opposite direction.

“… He told me that you’ve moved on. That you ain’t bother to think about me. From what you just said, should I trust what he says? Should I believe him and think you forgot about me? That fair to assume now?”

Moonlight eyes him silently for a few seconds, blinking not even once. “… And if I told you that it was true?”

Crimson’s eyes dilate, briefly flashing with golden energy. He stands up from the recliner so quickly, his form gusts air around him and ruffles curtains, the bedsheets, and loose papers near the ANA. “Then--!” He starts with a raised voice, one louder than he intended to have. He catches himself becoming intensely emotional and pauses. Moonlight does not even move a muscle, simply staring back at him with her tilted head. “… Then…” His fists tremble. “… Then I’m caught wonderin’ why the fuck you’re tellin’ me any of this. You obviously don’t care anymore, so why bring this up.”

“… Now you know how I felt.”

His brows wrinkle his forehead at her words, his glare deepens with perturbation.

“Now you know how I felt when he led me to believe you left me behind. You stopped thinking about me. You didn’t care about me, even from the start. You showed me over and over again that I wasn’t worth enough to you. That I wasn’t worth taking care of your own health for. You left me, forgot about me, and went to date somepony else. Do you have any idea how I felt? How I feel now? Do you have any idea how I felt when the human from another world came into my life and made me feel special? Not the ugly, superficial feelings Magnifying or anypony else gave me… but the feelings that tell me I'm truly being cared for and admired? You were kidnapped and sent here by Celestia, you were so angry and confused, all you wanted to do was go back home to Earth and forget about Equestria… but you still took the time to slow down, spend time with me, and make me feel special. You broke me out of my shell. I went back to Canterlot to try and blend back in with my old friends because you gave me the courage to do it… and you know what?”

Crimson blinks once, teeth grinding against each other for what is to come.

“… I hate myself for listening to you.”

He feels his chest compress. He cannot start a word or rebuttal.

“I hate that you made me feel everything I shouldn’t have felt. After my first nightmare with Crescent, I wanted to be alone for the rest of my life. I wanted to be here, in my home, with nopony else to bother me. Not even my own parents. I’d conduct my research and do everything I could ever want in the comfort of my home. But, for some reason, Celestia was completely adamant about making me feel less lonely when I said I was fine. I never asked for it. It was the one thing I could not convince her to change - to stop caring about my seclusion. Seven years later, she sends me a surprise and... it’s you. I hope she’s happy, because the result of what she did caused my garden to now be overgrown, my house to be dusty and cold, and the kitchen and the pantry to become full of spoiled food that needs to be thrown away. And as much as I would like to fault Celestia... I blame you. For giving me a chance. For making me feel special. For making me… not want to be alone anymore.”

Her words are like sandpaper to the walls of his heart, grinding away at his resolve and strength. He feels horrid. He feels like throwing up.

“You left me with all of these emotions. I already know I’m worthless, but you made it clear to me.”

“… But… I…”

“At least... for the two months you’ve been gone, that’s what I thought you did…”

Lightning courses through his body – an unnerving realization of her dichotomy enacted by having led him on. He understands now. This is what she felt. But it is time for the truth.

“I thought you left me. I thought you didn’t care about me. The pain those feelings put me through are still inside my heart. But when you appeared, like a shadow in the night, to stop Magnifying Glass before he could hurt me… I knew it… I knew that I had been lied to by him. Everything he said, all of the pain I went through thinking you forgot about me, or even hated me… it was him lying. He was lying to try to get to me. He made me believe you hated me, and I really thought you did. I thought I should move on… put you behind so I can… live. Live and be happy. But I couldn’t let it go. I don’t know why I couldn’t let you go. And when he tried to hurt me, you showed up for the first time in months just to save me. So I want to ask you again, Crimson… why? Why did you come and save me? After all of that time, why now?”

“… It--” he starts, his voice breaking terribly. He stops, steels himself, and starts again. “It was all just a coincidence. Right time and the right place. All I was supposed to do was break into yer room and steal the belt. I had a mission to do, it was supposed to be simple. And I failed it… because… I just…”

As he trails off, she picks up, “... You just what?”

The voices in his heart and mind scatter aggressively as he stuffs every boiling feeling down. “I couldn’t watch him do that to you,” his voice echoes over itself as his Arch spills out into his body and soul, his emotion overtaking him for a moment recalling the event. “I…” He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, calming himself down and letting his Arch revert to its passive state. “… I care about you, Moonlight, but… I was only there by happenstance. Bein’ able to save you from that piece of shit was… not intentional.”

She takes some time to internalize this information, seeming to still not be satisfied with it. “It was… just a coincidence, then?”

The man nods twice solemnly.

“… You could have just left me. You could have used that time to take Uru’s belt and leave… I’m sure neither me nor Magnifying would have noticed while he…” she trails off.

Another shock runs through his body at her egregious words. “Like hell I would’ve.”

“I don’t understand. Why would you save me if you had a mission to do? If it was just happenstance, why ruin your mission to help me? Why break the law to help me?”

“I already said why. I care too much about you, and I’d find myself behind bars any day if it meant keepin’ you safe. I should have done more. I missed you so much... and I thank the alignin’ stars that I was, at the very least, able to stop Magnifyin’.”

“Crimson? Do you know how much heartache you would have taken away if you just… came to see me? And told me this? If I was in a position where I would have to break the law to see you, I would have. But with Magnifying and the Consortium breathing down my neck, how could I?”

“I never faulted you fer not lookin’ fer me.”

“I know. But what I’m saying is... you’re willing to end somepony’s life for me, but you wouldn’t break the law just to try and come see me? Even for a little? If you were able to sneak into my room like you did for the belt, without so much as a trail of wind behind you... why did you not do that once for me? To at least tell me that you still cared?”

“It’s… mh,” he grunts, becoming increasingly frustrated with himself at being so poorly coordinated mentally and emotionally. She is more than right, he could have found a way to see her if he really tried. Even if caught, he thinks it likely would not have ended nearly as grim as his current situation. “… I know I should’ve. I know it. ... I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand you, Crimson.”

He feels he has no way of following up from here. Now that he knows she is fully aware of the circumstances, and how terribly unfortunate it was for the both of them, there is nothing more he needs to say, or really should say.

Moonlight returns her head to its up-right position before releasing a deep, quiet sigh. She stares blankly forward, back to the carpet near the door. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this. Maybe I really am as terrible as I think I am. Lots of ponies say that I’m too nice. Some ponies say they even look up to me. But if that’s true, why do ponies want to hurt me so much? Ponies wouldn’t want to hurt someone who is nice.” She looks up to the man again. “You think I’m nice, right? Crimson?” The man nods trepidly to her words. “Then, why didn’t you keep your promise? All I wanted was for you to take care of yourself, to show me I mean something to you. But you broke your promise and left me behind. Why can’t you just go away? Forever? Why do you keep coming back? Why do you keep giving me hope that you actually care about me?”

“B-Because I do, Moonlight!” He stammers heatedly. “Stop makin’ me repeat that!”

She lines her lips solemnly, letting her ears fall to her head. “… I wish you didn’t.”

Her simple phrase jerks his spirit.

“I wish you would have left when Celestia sent you here. Because now, I’m miserable. You’re miserable. We’re both… miserable. I could have lived alone, like I wanted… instead of wanting you by my side.” The deep ponds of grief that are her pupils glimmer, finally taking in some light instead of banishing it away. “I knew you were trouble since day one. The day you decided to ignore me and pick up that rock a second time. But I still let myself fall in love with you. And I’ve suffered for it ever since.”

His vibrating pupils gawk at her as she regresses into still silence. She does not bother looking up to him to gauge his reaction or… anything.

Nothing feels real in this moment.

Crimson finds his left leg suddenly taking a step forward. It felt impossible, it moved on its own. His right leg follows suit. He walks towards the bed, around to the left side where Moonlight sits. He halts himself as he stands over her, and yet, she does not move. He comes down onto both knees at the edge of the bed, his eyes locked with the ones which refuse to look back at him. He barely gives thought to the action, whether or not she will react negatively to it, but he does it anyway. He reaches both hands in and holds Moonlight’s right hoof, cupping it firmly.

Only now does she look towards him, their noses but inches apart. Their glittering orbs gaze into each other with a profoundness that never ends.

Crimson hears the voices again – her voice, all meshed into one. Upon touching her, her spirit cries and howls to him involuntarily. Her very core is venting anger, frustration, depression, self-deprecation, sadness, and everything inbetween into his soul. A multitude of clashing and overlapping emotions tickle the back of his mind. It all feels horrible. But all pale in comparison to the horrible screaming desire of self-destruction.

Crimson looks down to his right forearm, exposed under his torn suit. Moonlight follows his eyes and stares as well. They both eye the gashes that paint his arm, slowly healing themselves out of existence. He then lifts his attention to her directly while she keeps looking down.

“… I’d like to think Magnifyin’ did this to you.”

She only shakes her head in response.

“… Why, Moonlight?”

She shrugs with little enthusiasm.

“That was a lot of cuts, Moonlight. How long were you goin’ for?”

“If we're basing it off on the moment I saw you outside, then… I got home… um… three hours ago. I think. I started... maybe thirty minutes ago. I almost fell asleep. I heard a really loud crack of wind, but I ignored it. ... But, then, I heard you scream outside a few seconds later. That's when I really woke up.”

“Jesus, girl.”

“You scared me. I didn’t even get to clean the bathtub.”

His expression flexes grimly. He gently lets her go, the wailing voices of Moonlight’s psyche cease in a brutal instant. He rises from the side of the bed and makes a slow trek to the door. Moonlight watches him come up and she stares at his back as he leaves the room.

The man exits and walks to the restroom, where the light is still on but the door is mostly closed, only left slightly ajar. He pushes it open and feels his blood go cold. The floor of the bathtub is covered in countless streaks of red which all march right into the drain. The only part of the tub which has no blood is made obvious – the lonesome spot where she was sitting opposite of the drain. One of the edges of the tub’s body sits some sort of gardening tool with a small, refined blade upon a plastic handle. The blade is still marred.

Grimacing, Crimson moves the curtains and reaches for the valve. He turns on the hottest setting of water possible and allows it time to heat. Caring not about the heat, he begins cupping water with his hands and dispersing it on places where the shower head does not reach.

Most of the blood is washed away. What is left are the very dry spots which will need to be cleaned by chemicals. At least now there is less that will stick to the ceramic. With a deep exhale and the dropping of his shoulders, he turns and returns to the bedroom.

He steps in through the frame. Moonlight is already looking his way, as if waiting for him to come back. He returns to her side and gets on both knees, eyes locked on her the whole time.

“… That was a lot of blood,” the man comments.

She nods twice.

“This ain’t the solution to yer problems, Moonlight. This… this ain’t right.”

“Thank you for cleaning the bathtub for me. If that’s what you did.”

“You’d— Moonlight. No. Please. Listen to me.”

“It’s okay, Crimson. I used to do this all the time, after Crescent hurt me. I don’t remember when I stopped, but… now I remember why I used to do it. It… helps.”

“Moonlight,” he reaches his hands to her hoof again. She does not protest his approach, and as a matter of fact, she smiles. It haunts him to see it, it distracts him for a moment. “… There was near enough blood in that tub to kill you. This ain’t alright.”

“It’s not?”

“N--!” He catches his tone quickly and levels it out. “No. Moonlight. Not even a little bit.”

“But I’m not hurting anypony.”

“Yer hurtin’ yerself!”

“… I’m not hurting anypony important.”

“Ghk—Damn it,” he shakes his head vigorously. A repressed memory, a tale told, resurfaces in his mind. “This… ain’t right, Moonlight. Now I feel it’s too late to bring this up, but... I’d heard a rumor some time ago. That you’d ended yer own life.”

“Oh. I heard that one too. I think it started after Celestia and a few guards found me unconscious in my shower in Canterlot. After everything with Crescent.”

His mouth hangs open in atheism. “… Christ, Moonlight…”

“I don’t know why that rumor started. I was still alive.”

“Not if you keep hurtin’ yerself! It’s clear as day why some folk thought you did. This. This is unacceptable. I can’t and I won’t let you do this to yerself anymore.”

“Does this bother you?”

“Yes!” He chuckles with a frown of desolation, squeezing her gently. “Course it does!”

“Why?”

“B-Because! I ain’t wanna see you!-- … be…” he starts to drift, “… hurt.” The taste of metal invades his mouth.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt either. It didn’t stop you from hurting yourself.” The man squints at her hoof, the one he holds dearly. “But since it bothers you, I won’t anymore.” He looks up to her, surprise overtaking his gloom. “… If you’re here, and you’re caring about me, I won’t. But if you don’t want to take care of yourself, and you get hurt… I want to be hurt with you. I will be hurt with you. I won't allow you to... help me, like you've done tonight. I will be hurt with you.”

Her words seep into his heart like a dagger to the inner flesh. He knows full-well she is not trying to be malicious. She is not trying to hold something over his head or be spiteful. She genuinely wants to suffer alongside him for a reason only she would know.

He sees it in her eyes. Her mind is shattered due to what she experienced. Even if time put her back together, she would not be the same. He could cry for her right now, relinquish tears of sadness and pity for the breaking of such a beautifully innocent soul. The challenge for him is not to – to stuff it down as deep as possible for her sake. The last thing she needs is more tears.

Moonlight’s eyes peacefully come closed. “… I’m… sleepy…”

“Y-- … You wanna lay down?”

She tiredly nods twice, opening her eyes half-way. Gently removing his hand from her hooves, she sets it down on the sheets before scooting over to the other side of the bed. She folds the blankets over on the side she was just on, leaving it open and offered.

Crimson takes this pleasant surprise with an internal smile, as forcing it onto his face is too demanding for his current spirit. He accepts the offer with no further words, climbing onto the bed and resting on his back. As he shimmies to get his lower body under the covers, he feels the little body next to him doing the same. Once they both lay comfortably, they glance over to one another at the same exact time.

Knowing it might be a bad time to speak, he does so anyway with a voice just above a whisper. “After everythin’ you had to put up with… you still want me around?”

“You should know by now. I’m hopeless.”

“Please don’t say that about yerself.”

“Why? It’s true.”

“Because. If it is true, then I’m hopeless too.”

He spots a certain twinkle in her eye. Something that reassures him, lets him know that while the destruction is heavy, it is not too late to rebuild.

Crimson offers his left arm. As if it were going to be taken away from her if she reacted too slowly, she snatches it and latches onto him. Watching that her horn does not impale him, she nestles her head on his shoulder and holds him tightly. He softly holds one of her hindlegs with his hand.

Crimson keeps his eyes rested on the ceiling above him, feeling oddly nostalgic. Two months is not a long time, relatively speaking, but it feels like it is. It feels like a different life-time ago he was here, doing exactly this with her. Maybe not ‘exactly’ this, but to him, it is all the same. Now, however, the feelings involved in and outside of him are much different.

He feels like he should say something, anything, to her very indirect love confession, but what to even say. There is nothing his mouth could sound right now that would be even remotely appropriate or accurate to describe his sentiments.

Maybe that is why he does not say anything, he thinks. There is no need. Because instead of speaking foolishness or false promises, he will instead show her. Show her what he should have when they first moved back to Canterlot, when he first promised to her that he will take care of himself. Not because he fears confrontation now, it is the complete opposite, but because he wants to show her that he cares about her feelings and will do all that he can to respect them.

He hates himself for being the stubborn piece of work that he is and was. He only hopes it is not too late to try and make things right, not just with Moonlight… with everything.

“... If you could go back,” Moonlight suddenly begins with a low, tired hum, “... what would you do differently?”

“... How far back?” Crimson responds with the same volume.

“... As far back as it needs to go to change that one thing.”

Crimson ponders this very deeply, wondering what exact moment in his life left him in this position. “... When I was fifteen. After my older brother died. I remember that hot, summer day. Burnin’ like the sun above. Got home after rangin’ the cows to my mother ‘n my sister cryin’. My ex best friend was there, breakin’ the news to my family that Vigil was killed. If I could go back... if I could change one thing... it would’a been not to hide my Arch from Michael. The thing he loved the most about me was my gift. It’s why he used me ‘n stood close – made me think I was his friend. Then, when I figured out his brother Dern killed my family, he found out I was gonna kill Dern. So he backstabbed me. Threatened the lives of my ma’ ‘n sister if I didn’t work with ‘em and use my Arch. The very thing my pa’ wanted to avoid. That’s why I made it a point to hide it away from him. No matter the cost.”

His eyes stare into the echoing nothingness of wrenching thoughts, where Moonlight gives him her earnest attention.

“... And I did,” Crimson continues. “Hid it from him well. Too damn well. ‘At all costs’-type well... and it wasn’t worth it. None of it was. It made me a worse man. A worse person. If I could go back ‘n change one thing... that would’a been it.” He feels Moonlight’s head nodding, indicated by her mane rubbing against him. He looks down to her, himself now curious. “... ‘N you?”

“... If I could go back,” Moonlight begins, doing as Crimson did by regressing mentally into painful paintings of the past. “... There’s two, actually. I don’t know which I want more.”

“What would those be?”

“... The first would have been staying true to my original desire. Becoming a teacher. Turn away all of the notoriety and prestige of working as a Researcher so I could teach at Magic Kindergarten. The second would have been to be true to my desire again, but in a different way. I would have commissioned Celestia’s help to adopt Furi and go back home to Baltimare once the restraining order on you was signed.”

“... Hm. Teacher?”

“If I could go back and be a teacher, I’d-- ... well, I don’t know if I’d be any happier there than I am now. I know for certain if I did, I would have never met Crescent. I wouldn’t have had to endure the biggest embarrassment life could offer me. ... But, I also wouldn’t have met Celestia. And if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have ever met you...”

He squeezes her just a little tighter, both acknowledging her and giving her the air to continue.

“There’s a lot of uncertainties with that one, so... I also like to think of more recent things. And the one that always comes to mind is... adopting Furi and leaving Canterlot forever...” Her already tired eyes close a little more as her muse picks up. “... It’s funny. When I thought about this idea, I was silently hoping that you would show up at my Baltimare home and find me there. That you would live with me anyway – both of us away from the unsavory guises of the Consortium. No more prying eyes, no more Magnifying Glass, no more face-to-face reporting...”

“... You really thought of that?”

She nods again. “That’s why I think it’s so funny... because... in a weird way, I was right. I got what I wanted. You’ve... come back. Here, to my home... where we first met. Even after everything, a part of me wishes I could go back. I knew I should have done it... but... my fear of disappointing Magnifying Glass was too much... and it was all worthless anyway. I should have taken the incident in the orphanage as a hint to jump off the ship...”

“Incident in the orphanage?”

“Mm. Furi, she... I’m not sure what caused it, but she and the matron had a very... ‘big’ disagreement on something she didn’t want to talk to me about. Me, Magnifying, and her were all planning on attending the Royal Games, and two nights prior when I went to visit her, she was in detention. The matron was very short with me and didn’t let me see her. It wasn’t until I showed her the ticket I bought her for the Games that she caved in and allowed me to take her just for it. I had to return her directly after.”

“... Wonder what could have caused it. Furi is a wonderful little thing.”

“... Maybe the weight of what happened to her parents is finally setting in.”

Crimson squints at the ceiling. “... Yeah. Think you’re right. ... Poor girl.” He tries to warm up the emotionally cold and biting room with a soft squeeze on her hindleg while saying, “well maybe now we can scrape you up some time so you can adopt Furi. She’s still in the Canterlot orphanage right?”

“... She... is.”

Noting her meek, distant tone, he returns to the somber blues of her very obvious sadness. “... What’s wrong, girly?”

“... I can’t adopt her anymore...”

“What? Why? You two are perfect together.”

“Because. My head is... no good.” Crimson’s mouth sours horribly. “I don’t think I’m mentally fit to take care of a little one anymore, Crimson. The moment I realized that, it was the same moment I made my first incision in my leg. Imagine if you hadn’t shown up tonight like you did? I don’t think my corpse would do a very good job at being a mom...”

His teeth grit fiercely. There are a million things he would want to say, but he knows none of them would matter now. Instead, he responds by asking, “... she gonna stay at the orphanage then?”

“I hope not. I hope... somepony adopts her. And gives her a loving home. Because otherwise...”

“... I’m sorry, Moonlight.”

“... It’s okay.” She nestles closer, as if trying to become one with him. “... At least... now it is.” She finalizes her words with a squeeze of her own around his arm.

Nothing so bittersweet has ever washed over his spirit. He cannot find any more words to say. No words that would add to the conversation, at least. It would all be pointless nothings, just like all of his regrets and self-loathing.

He comes across as extremely fascinated with the ceiling above him, since it is the only thing his eyes lock onto while he swims through his own mind. And this persists for a length of time he cannot begin to count.

Soon, audible breathing starts from the mare that holds him. He turns his head discretely and shifts his eyes her way, only to witness her already fallen into deep sleep. She really was tired, he supposes. Not that it was unobvious from the deep, disheartening dark circles that have painted the bottom of her eyelids. They have gotten so bad, they remind him of his own...

… and they also remind him of Dahlia’s. Another one of his kind, a being who can never live a single minute without dark circles discoloring her lower eyelids. But he knows that Dahlia’s are not from lack of sleep or depression. Hers are purely from stress, and he is positive that stress is exactly what she is going through now because of his idiocy. He does not regret saving Moonlight, hell, he would punch Magnifying’s brains out to save her again if he could, but he knows the toll it is causing Dahlia.

…

And like lightning, he is stricken by a very real dilemma, which he barely now realizes he finds himself in. A sandwich of emotions that he is not sure what to do with. He is no stranger to having more than one person beckoning his attention at once. Multiple people being attracted to him is a non-issue in his opinion, as it is easy to pull forward and push away the people he wants in his life. But in this circumstance, he finds that more than one interest is pulling him in. Surely this cannot be normal or natural.

…

He scolds himself for being distracted with these thoughts when they should be at the back of his mind. First and foremost, he needs to find Dahlia. He will find her. And he will make sure she is safe. Maybe, just maybe, bring her here. Have her meet Moonlight. Maybe put this dilemma to rest before something irreversible happens.

He hopes the two of them get along. They were not very fond of each other through only surface-level reference. In the possibility that their personalities clash too hard, they may not want to physically be around each other. That is something he is now beginning to really fear. His two favorite gals hating each other’s guts and causing a separation…

He tries not to think of that right now. What he needs to focus on is where he is going first to try and look for her. There are a few spots he knows to check, he just hopes it is one of them. Equestria is a massive place.

He could maybe use a transponder to teleport into the bunker in Canterlot Castle, but… that would not work. Each time they have used the transponders to go to a different location, the dials needed to be adjusted according to where they were going. He feels stupid for not paying attention to what the combinations were, but then again, he does not understand the language they are written in. Any set of numbers would not translate visually to him.

He stands firm on the idea of simply flying around Equestria to look for her. From what he has seen, and from what he opines, he is much faster than any run-of-the-mill pegasi. The pegasi in the Elite could probably smoke him, and Dahlia for sure could. But any other fool looking to tail him would likely have a difficult time unless they were as seasoned as the aforementioned competition.

Yeah, that is exactly what he will do. He will spend all afternoon and evening looking for her. And if he does not, he will try again the next day. And if he does not, he will try again the next day… until he finds her. Or something stops him.

Horis… the very thought of him somewhat frightens him.

He lifts his right arm, that which is no longer mangled and is completely healthy. He finds it quaint that Lillian did this. Again, the weight which caused him to cry earlier returns... but Moonlight’s tender embrace keeps the tears at bay.

No matter. He will not waste precious rest stressing over Lillian, Horis, or anything else. Tonight, he will sleep so that he may properly face those toils. He will sleep with Moonlight’s embrace, that which does perfectly to ease him and usher him to a relatively peaceful slumber.

Loyal Toil

“I cannot leave this alone…”

‎ ‎ ‎

‎ ‎

~ Equestria, Moonlight's Home ~<
‎April 12th, Wednesday, 9:19

‎ ‎

Night gives way to the morning, despite it not feeling as so. Crimson and Moonlight have already awoken, laying together on her bed. The bliss of comfortable sleep has restored a good portion of their sanity, now basking in the aftermath of such powerful emotion. Both are mostly quiet and contemplative. The storm that arrived last night has yet to let up.

“Feels like it ain’t never gonna stop rainin’,” Crimson breezily comments, his voice low and lazy. Moonlight does not immediately speak up, letting him trail on further. “Was near the dam. Over by Salt Lick City. Was rainin’ like crazy over there. Didn’t wanna let up the few days I was there.” He feels her nestle her head against his arm, getting herself comfortable. “... Funny thing. Be lucky if I saw a full week’s worth’a rain in a year back at home.”

“... At Earth?” she speaks up quietly.

“Yeah. Rare as can be, crops would love it. Nearby rivers would too. So would I. Wished it rained more then… but now, feels like it won’t end.”

“Winter passed a little while ago… there’s going to be a lot more. Spring in Equestria is like a four month shower. There are more days with rain than those without.”

“Does the floodin’ get bad?”

She shakes her head, her pink and deep blue mane rubbing against his skin. “All of the rain gets absorbed by plant life and trees.”

“Just the green is good enough to stop the floodin’?”

“Mhm. They drink every drop. It’s very rare that Equestria suffers from flooding. About ninety years ago, during the Great War, when the dragons invaded the south and burnt every living thing from the Appleloosan Mountains to the Everfree… records say there was a flooding so bad that it repelled the dragons from setting up nests in the land they overtook. Almost like Equestria itself was fighting back against them. Once ponykind was able to drive them away, and the land was able to put itself back together, the greenery came back. The flooding stopped.”

“All thanks to every shard of grass and every sturdy bark.”

“Mm,” she nods, a small smile forming on her lips at his choice of words.

“That’s certainly a difference between Equestria, or… well, ‘Ee-kus.’ I say that right?”

“Mhm~”

“Equus and Earth. The plant life we have in my world won’t drink the water quick enough to stop rainstorms from causin’ havoc. I had a cousin who moved to central Texas, a state that was neighborin’ to mine. Before he died, he came back to New Mexico, my home state, ‘n would tell stories ‘bout how green it was over there. Totally different from the desert we lived in. Couldn’t really imagine what he was talkin’ about since I’d never seen it. Supposedly they’d flood every other week from how bad the rainstorms got. The rain was a blessin’ and a curse there. Earth, I mean. Seems like nothin’ but a boon here though. The green and the weather just… work in harmony. Complement one another better than they do in Earth.”

“You coming to Equestria… was that the first time you’ve seen so much flora and fauna?”

“Yeah. It… confused me, almost. Didn’t help that I was goin’ through a lot at the time, so seein’ so much green all around me when I woke up in the Everfree… couldn’t even think straight. It’s beautiful, but… almost overwhelmin’.”

“... I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It’s okay, Moonlight. Besides, I’m used to it now. Mostly. Learned to admire the beauty.”

“I’m happy that you like it. Plants and trees have always been comforting… they’re like friends to me. When I saw how overgrown and untended my garden was, I felt… so terrible.”

Crimson falls into silence, his half-lidded eyes unmoving from the ceiling. “... I’m sorry.” She looks up to him, lifting her head to give him a disconcerted look. “... I took you away from your home. I should’a never done it. You were happy here, ‘n I took that happiness away thinkin’ I was helpin’ you. I was dead wrong doin’ what I did… and you had to pay fer it.”

“...” She gazes at him, a brief quiet breezing between them. She lays her head down on him, this time, on his chest, something he deems quite brave on her part. “... It’s okay, Crimson. I know you only wanted to help me break out of my shell.”

“The pain I caused you is unacceptable. If you don’t forgive me for it, I understand.” Moonlight lifts her head again to him, to which he finally breaks away from the ceiling to look back at her. “Matter of fact, I think I might prefer it if you hated me.”

Lining her lips, she shakes her head slowly. “... The only one I hate is myself. I shouldn’t expect you to act certain ways just for me, and that was something I didn’t want to accept.”

“It don’t excuse me fer treatin’ you the way I did. I made you a promise and didn’t keep it. I hold it in my heart that you forgive me, but… like I said…”

A small smile forms on her lips again, a sharp exhale of dull amusement comes from her nostrils. “Do you wanna know how pathetic I am?” Crimson lifts his left brow, visibly not liking the phrasing she used. “... I forgave you the next morning. I saw your condition first-hoof after you returned from Yakyakistan… and had my first heart arrhythmia. I woke up the next morning, and the only thing I wanted to do was see you again… but by that time, Celestia was already preparing the restraining order.”

“You’re not pathetic, Moonlight. You’re… you’re way too sweet fer this awful world. No one – nothin’… deserves you. Especially not me. I’ve done nothin’ but cause you harm since we’ve met. Yer love and affection are best spent with…” He trails off, letting his eyes fall from her. She keeps on gazing at him, waiting for him to finish. Once he knows what to say, he looks back to her with a meek simper. “Yer plants. Yer garden is the only thing in this world that deserves you.”

Moonlight giggles lightly, letting her eyes come close during. She looks at him again, pink tinting her cheeks as she readies her next words. “Maybe you’re right.” Now it is her turn to look away, her face heating up further. “... Unfortunately for both of us… it won’t stop me from loving you. I’m sorry that I do. It’s– … I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it.” She chuckles trepidly and looks at him, tucking her chin shyly. “T-Trust me, I’ve… I’ve tried. Some time ago, when Magnifying was still lying to me and making me thing you left me behind, I really did try my best to forget about you. But… a lot of time spent alone, or with a pony I don’t really ‘love,’... it… it makes you come to terms with these things. Even if it’s for the worst.”

Crimson eyes her, leaving them in quietness as he does not follow up with anything. Moonlight feels mildly oppressed under his hazel eyes, but that oppression quickly turns to worry when his expression reflects that exact emotion.

Her ears fall to her head and she averts her gaze again, feeling a pit forming in her gut. “... I-I’m… sorry… I know you don’t find my kind romantically attractive, it’s… please, don’t mull on this too much. I’m just thinking out loud. I don’t–”

“Moonlight.” Her ears perk up. “The last few months I’ve spent here taught me a lot about myself. I say I’m a type stuck in his ways. … At least, I thought I was. I haven´t had too much time to myself, but in the occasion I did, I realized pretty quick that I was becomin´… someone else. Don’t know if this person is any better ´r worse, but I knew it was just… someone else. I wasn´t lyin´ when I said I wasn´t romantically attracted to ponykind. But… that’s just it. Then, I wasn’t.”

Her ears lift as he speaks, until they stand primly pointed - all the while her face reddens.

“If I said that now, well… I’d be the type of person I hate the most. A liar. Believe me when I say that… hearin’ you say this has made me happier than I’ve been in… a long time.” The last three words echo around his mind… the same words he said to a certain pegasus. As guilty as he feels in this moment sharing words he shared before, he does not retract or stutter. He knows this is truly what he feels, and he does his best not to deny himself, unlike before. He reaches both of his hands and places them on her lower back. The action brings chills across her body. “... What I’m worried about is lettin’ you down again. Givin’ us a chance, and ruinin’ yer life more than I already have. I’m afraid that if I let my love fer you take over my sense, you’ll be worse for it.”

Her eyes expand, her pupils become glimmering pools of black across her pink irises.

“... And I don’t want anythin’ bad happenin’ to you. Any more things, at least. Look how bad it’s gotten now.”

She feels her entire body fluttering, floating almost.

“... I couldn’t live with myself if your life became misery due to my company.”

“... You…” she speaks up softly, “... you love… me?”

Crimson grits his teeth tightly, finding only himself holding him back from speaking a truth even he might not understand. “… I do. With all my heart. You deserve the world, and I’d like nothin’ more than to try ‘n give it to you. I…” He trials off, wanting to say too much in such few words.

Before he can resume his thought, reservations become abandoned. Temptations become entertained. Astonishment pangs both Moonlight and Crimson – both that the timid blue unicorn has reached in and planted her lips upon his, and that she actually had it in her to do it. An urge that she had been holding herself back from for so long finally got the better of her.

His eyes come closed, just as hers. The experience quickly registers in both of their minds. The first to truly react is Crimson. His right hand glides across her robe which she still dons. He travels from her lower back to her upper back, to her shoulder, until he holds the back of her head. His fingers burrow into her wonderfully colored, silky mane, and pulls her deeper into the kiss. It takes no time for him to realize she has little experience with this, or perhaps forgot what she knew, so he takes the lead for her. He figures it is the least he can do since she had the heart to initiate first.

Lips locked, the sensation is just as surreal as before.

She moans as they become locked. Sparking minds and hearts, they feel each other’s breath upon their faces. Neither of them expected this to come across so naturally.

Six seconds feel like an eternity. The kiss breaks mutually. They come apart; their eyes lock immediately. Moonlight’s orbs tremble, the man’s gleam.

The emotions inside Moonlight assault her in a way she cannot understand, much less handle. Her ears fall to her head again, her eyes glimmer, and a desperate huff escapes her mouth. “I… I love you,” she murmurs. Once those words escape her, a tear from her left eye trails down her cheek. “I love you… so much…”

Crimson reaches out and takes her into his hold, resting her on his chest and hugging her. She begins to quietly weep against him. A small smile crawls across his face, one that he cannot stop. He gazes at the ceiling, returning the words warmly. “I love you too… darlin’.”

“T-Thank you…” she whispers, “... for loving me.”

A wave of clashing feelings strikes him profoundly, so much so that he realizes he cannot understand what exactly it is he is experiencing. Such sheer happiness and warmth from finally letting himself be true to his emotions, and having his love validated by someone who loves him in return… yet, it is all drenched in a thick melancholy. His smile slowly turns for a frown, but he does not let her see it.

He hates himself to an extent that knows no bounds. He hurt her and caused her so much harm when she deserved none of it. Even so, she still loves him and thanks him for accepting her love. It hurts him. He thinks that her unadulterated love and care is too pure for his dense, stubborn ways.

As he holds her tighter, she nestles her muzzle onto the side of his neck. He faces himself in his mental mirror, a man he hates and would enjoy nothing more than to see suffer. But the conduit of affection and warmth in his hold tells him not to fight the repulsive man in the reflection, but instead prove him wrong. To show him that he is capable of being a better man.

He will be a better man. He will indulge in hope. Even if the world stands in front of him.

The gift in his veins feels more alive now than it ever did.

‎

~<

‎

After a tender moment with nothing but silent embrace, Moonlight’s emotions clear up until she is stable and comfortable. She comes off of Crimson’s chest and lays next to him, looking up to the ceiling just as he does.

She sniffles one final time to compose herself. “… I’m sorry you have to see me like this…”

“Don’t apologize, darlin’. I’d only be upset if you hide what you’re feelin’ from me. I wanna see every part of you.”

“… T-Thank you… ehe~” she chuckles once, smiling warmly. “I-I really like how you’re calling me darling. It’s… making me so happy.”

“I’m glad it does.” The arm which he has wrapped around her squeezes her gently. “You’ll find out pretty quick that I’m the affectionate type. Sometimes too affectionate.”

“You could never be too affectionate. If it were up to me, I-I’d never let you go…”

Crimson smiles at the ceiling, understanding perfectly well that the implications are somewhat unhealthy, but he could not care less. He may as well feel the same way. But this surfaces something he feels he should bring up now rather than later. He lets go of her gently and sits up, keeping the blankets over his legs. This prompts Moonlight to do the same, piquing her curiosity.

“… There’s actually somethin’ I wanted to tell you,” he begins, garnering her full attention. “And I know you ain’t gonna like it very much.” She begins to frown, but refrains from speaking until she knows what it is. “… I need to find someone. I have to go look for ‘em.”

“S-Some… one?”

“Yeah. It’s important.”

“… How long do you think you’ll be away?” she asks trepidly.

“I’m… not sure. See, I don’t actually know where she is. We got separated after the situation with Magnifyin’.”

Moonlight’s brows line the top of her eyes as she stares at nothing in particular. “She? After Magnifying? This… this sounds familiar. Why does it--?” Her eyes widen in eureka. “It couldn’t be. Were you separated from… Dahlia? Again?”

Astounded by her impeccable correlation, Crimson looks back at her with eyes just as wide as hers. “Y… Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

“You found her after the restraining order was placed?”

“I did, but as you can tell, I’ve lost her a second time.”

“Oh... I’m very sorry to hear that. I hope she’s okay.”

“Hope so too. I need to find her. There’s a few places I know to check, so I’m ridin’ my chances I find her soon. Still, I won’t know how long it’s gonna take. But I promise I won’t be out fer too long. If I don’t find her today, I’ll try again the next. I’ll be sure to come back to you every time.”

Moonlight shuffles lightly in her muse. She looks down at the sheets while she plays with them, patting them gently so they unwrinkle. “You must really care about Dahlia.”

The tone of her voice sounds unfamiliar to Crimson, one he has never heard from her before. It seems flat, and maybe a bit condescending. Whatever this inflection means, he could not know. It even intimidates him to a degree. “Yeah. Her and I been through a lot together. Just like you ‘n I.”

“Do you love her?”

Crimson turns his head like a sentry to her, brows furrowed. “I can say I care about her a lot.”

“Do you care about her more than me?”

“I—” He stops and frowns at her. “I care a lot about the both of you. Kinda question is that?”

“I’m… just curious.”

“… Is there somethin’ you wanna tell me, Moonlight?”

She stops patting the blankets. A small smile takes her lips before she speaks, still avoiding looking at him. “If you find her… would you still come back to me? Or… would you stay with her?”

“What? C’mon, Moonlight. It hurts you think I’d do somethin’ like that.”

“I-It was just a question…”

He lines his lips quickly, restarting with an easier tone. “I know, darlin’. I’m sorry. I care about her, and I care about you. I ain’t an expert at describin’ my feelings, but I don’t want you to misunderstand. I want both of you to be alright, and if I find her, I’ll bring ‘er here where it’s safe. I pray you two get along with one another.”

Moonlight simply nods in understanding to what he says. She starts patting the blankets again. “When will you leave to look for her?”

“Probably now, with the rainstorm goin’ on. More cover, less folks.”

Moonlight nods again, saying nothing further.

Her disposition irks him. He keeps his eyes on her, how she idly keeps herself busy by gently patting the blankets again and again. “Moonlight, if there’s somethin’ on yer mind, I’d like nothin’ more than to hear it.”

She glances to him once, frowns, then looks back at the blanket. “I hope you know that I’m not happy that you’re leaving.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “So you ain’t happy I’m lookin’ fer Dahlia, then.”

“No, it’s not that. I am-- … I’m looking forward to meeting her, especially since she’s so special to you. But I’m not happy that you’re leaving and going into the dangers of Equestria. You always end up hurt in some way or another…”

Understanding her now, he feels sour for letting himself assume against her. His arms loosen up and do not cross so harshly, along with his demeanor. “Ah… I get you. I couldn’t apologize enough fer my behavior then, and even now. I know my promises ain’t worth much to you, but I say this with my heart ‘n soul that I’ll come back to you. Not just that, but I’ll take damn good care of myself… because I want the same of you.”

“… Okay,” she relents, becoming visibly dispirited. “I just want you to know I’m still not happy about this.”

“I know, darlin’. You have every reason to contest the idea.” He delivers a caring smile before leaning in to give her a peck on the cheek. It startles her, she puts her hoof to the same cheek, and a deep blush encompasses her face.

Moonlight holds still for a moment, as to remember the feeling of the kiss before it disappears forever. A despondent smile takes over before she replies to him. “… Could you… at least allow me to make you something to eat? B-Before you go? The last thing I want is you leaving on an empty stomach.”

“You’re too kind, darlin’.”

Her simper strengthens. She takes the lead by coming off the bed. Crimson follows behind.

As they trek downstairs, Moonlight begins to advise him of the visitations set by the Canterlot medical staff to send a therapist and a nurse on a fixed schedule. To both of their relief, they were not appointed this week as it was marked a ‘setup’ period for her to reacclimatize to her home.

As Moonlight divulges this information, she prepares the only thing she can find in her kitchen that is still somewhat edible. She retrieves a dark brown packet with black wording from the pantry. She then sets a pot with water onto the stove. In a few short minutes, she prepares and serves a bowl of oatmeal and a spoon to Crimson, accompanied only by a glass of water. Once it reaches his grasp, he begins to scarf down with immodest vigor.

One spoonful after another of these partially stale oats complimented by nothing else, he chews without care of its flavor or texture, musing deeply. After swallowing his latest mouthful, he speaks up to reply to Moonlight. “In a word, that therapist is comin’ every odd day. No weekends?”

“Yes,” Moonlight confirms from the kitchen to the man sitting on the largest couch in the living room. “Just Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

“… We can work with that.”

“For now. I hope later on I can convince them to leave me alone completely. I have a feeling it won’t be too long.”

“Don’t fret about makin’ it happen too soon. Don’t want them being suspicious about yer sudden change of heart.”

“Mm, that’s… that is very true.” She watches Crimson take another spoon of oats into his mouth, chewing very audibly due to the staleness. To this, she frowns and lowers her head. “Again, I’m sorry that there wasn’t anything else for you to eat…”

He swallows before speaking. “Ain’t gotta stress it, darlin’. This is good enough. Completely forgot to say thank you, so… thank you.”

She adjusts her glasses from the shyness that weighs down on her. “You’re welcome… love.” She blushes lightly at referring to him in this way. As she admires him from a distance, her eyes jumping between him and the bowl of oatmeal, she tilts her head slightly. “... I’ve, um… I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

“Mm?”

“... The collar around your neck. You told me you went to Las Pegasus to find a way to remove it. That’s a pre-development nullifier collar. How did you come across it? … And how did it end up around your neck?”

“It’s a long and unpleasant story. I’ll tell you about it sometime soon. Good thing you reminded me, almost forgot it was there. Hate to say I’m used to it by now.”

“You haven’t been able to remove it?”

“Couldn’t. Needs a special key, apparently.” She nods in affirmation to his claim. “One I had no luck findin’.” To this, she grimaces. “Tried rippin’ it off, but I wasn’t… strong enough then, I suppose.”

“L-Last night, when we were arguing… you almost tore it clean off.”

“… Yeah,” he says with a hint of guilt. “I would’a too, just… something about me is tellin’ me not to. Not yet, at least.”

“I-If you ask me, it’s really wonderful that you’ve preserved the collar as long as you did. Believe it or not, I’ve spent a really long time trying to find one of those so I could disenchant it. The self-reparation magic on that pre-publication series of nullifier collar is extremely powerful, and no other enchantment ever since has been quite like it. Would, um… would you allow me to extract the enchantment and learn its properties? I-I could make some very useful tools with it!”

“Well, hey, that’s a better deal than anythin’ I could’a conjured. One of the reasons I appreciate you, darlin’. Yer much smarter than I am.”

She blushes deeply and rubs her right hoof with her left, smiling happily. That giddy happiness turns into deep contemplation very quickly. “... Are you going to leave after you finish your food?”

“If I wanna take advantage of the storm, yeah. Don’t wanna risk it clearin’ up, though I suppose it won’t any time soon.”

“The weather can be very unpredictable.”

“That it can.” He runs his spoon in circles all across the inside of the bowl, scraping the remnants of the stuck oatmeal. With one more somewhat full spoon, he finishes the last of it and holds the bowl away from his chin.

“D-Did you want seconds?” Moonlight asks, maybe a little desperately.

Crimson snickers, still chewing his food. He again swallows before speaking up. “I ain’t gonna be gone fer long, darlin’.”

“With the Black Horseshoes and the Consortium, practically all of Equestria is trying to kill you. I just… I wish you would stay here, where you won’t be hurt.” Before Crimson can speak up to retort, Moonlight adjusts her glasses and continues. “But… I know she is special to you. She was there for you when you first arrived in Equestria. Like you said, you two have been through a lot together. And… I’m… I’m actually happy that you were able to find her again. Just… please. Please keep your promise and return to me. I…” her ears fall to her head, her eyes slowly become dilated as they stare into the abyss, “... I wouldn’t… be able to handle it if something… happened to you…”

Her reaction is causing Crimson to sit on the edge of his seat, worry paints him very apparently. Before he throws himself off the couch to comfort her, she shakes her head quickly and seems to restore her usual demeanor. The concern in Crimson does not leave him still.

“U-Uhm…” she hums before briefly glancing to her left, to the circular clock hung on the wall above the marble counter. She then looks to the window next to the clock, the one that peers into the backyard where rain falls unremittingly. Facing the clock one more time, she finally directs a haughty pout to Crimson, trying to look as serious and firm as possible.

The man cannot help but admire how cute she looks despite her attempts to look serious. This somewhat soothes the caution he was just feeling. He enjoys this display – seeing Moonlight putting up her heart instead of hiding it away gives him confidence.

“I-I demand that you be back by six!” she cries.

Crimson lifts his left brow at this adorable instruction, smiling at her in return. “Before sundown, then. What time is it now?”

“Almost nine thirty.”

“Right, that’s plenty of time. I’ll be back by six.”

“N-Not a minute later!”

“And not a minute later.” He takes the glass of water that was left idle and proceeds to chug all of it in a few swoops. He then rises from the couch and walks towards her. He places the cup, bowl, and spoon into the sink before crouching down. He levels his eyes with hers, a smile on his front. She pouts and tries to hold it up against him. “A promise is a promise. I, uh… don’t have a watch ‘r a clock to look at, but I’ll make it back well before it gets dark.”

“... Y… You better.”

“I will, darlin’. Now you promise me somethin’.”

Her ears stand at attention, her front drops the ‘hard act’ immediately. “Y-Yes, love?”

“Promise me you’ll be okay bein’ alone fer a spell. Don’t sit around ‘n do nothin’ the whole day, it won’t help yer spirit none by doin’ that. And for the love of all that’s right and mighty, please don’t hurt yerself. I think this’ll be a perfect time to tend to yer home. Give it a good sprucin’ up. Especially the bathroom…”

“Oh, w-well, that’s a great idea... but… well… I was planning on getting my umbrella and going into the city today to get groceries. I wish you could come with me, but I know that would be a very horrible idea. And I would feel guilty if I left you here all alone, so… I-I think it’s good you have this to do. I’ll go shopping while you’re gone.”

“… Goin’ into the city?” he questions with a lifted brow.

“I-Is something wrong with that?”

“More things I can count with both hands. Moonlight, I don’t want you puttin’ yerself in a stressful place, especially now. It ain’t more than three days since the incident at Canterlot. It’s better fer you to stay here ‘n decompress.”

“But-- But what about the groceries? I-I can keep my robe on! And I won’t as much as look at anypony!”

“Moonlight. I trust that you’ll do everythin’ in yer power to be safe out there. We both know that you ain’t never lookin’ fer trouble. But it comes lookin’ fer you. I don’t want that.”

“B-But I promise nothing will happen! I can translocate myself with my magic! I can get away to safety, as--!” She stops, as if hitting a mental wall of stone, “… as long as… nothing… stifles my magic…” Her words become breathy, her body begins to tense up and shiver. Her pupils shrink as her mouth hangs open slightly on its own.

Crimson brings his hand up and rests it softly on her cheek in reaction to her regression. Upon touching her, his eyes autonomously sheen with gold – her spirit begins to vent to him on its own. Just as before, a nest of self-deprecating voices barrage his soul. He holds onto her, allows his spirit to be battered by hers, until those voices are painfully managed, quieted down, and leave her be.

Moonlight slowly returns to herself again, shown by her lifting her hoof to hold his hand and press it onto her face harder, as if not wanting it to escape. Once she is confident in standing on her own, she retracts her hoof.

He lets his hand fall, holding a grim expression to the mare who looks back at him with depressive eyes. “… Stay here, darlin’. Please.”

“B-But I just… I just want food for you to eat better. The oatmeal is no good…”

“The one I want eatin’ well is you, darlin’. And as a matter of fact…” As an idea visibly strikes Crimson, Moonlight takes further hesitance. “… How ‘bout this. I’ll fetch us the food today. Where I’m headed, it’ll be an easy stop along the way.”

“N-No! No, Crimson! Please don’t show yourself in places where you’ll be caught!”

“Moonlight, trust me on this. I’m gonna be headin’ to the Everfree forest, there’s a lodge there where Dahlia used to bunk. It’s a good’a place as any to start lookin’ fer her. There’s a little town, Dodge. You remember it? It’s close by. Long as there ain’t a patrol stoppin’ by the train station, there ain’t no Consortium punks and no Horseshoe scum to worry about. Just honest folk with a single sheriff to lead ‘em. I’ll get food from there. All I need is money. Come ‘n gone like a ghost.”

“I beg of you, please don’t put this burden on yourself. I-I’ll just… m-maybe I’ll feel better soon, and I can—”

She stops herself when he suddenly reaches in and takes ahold of her deep blue robe. He begins to ravel it from her back to her neck, giving her the hint that he is trying to take it off. She assists him by ducking her head. With the leverage to pull it off comfortably, he does so – not before the sleeves upon her forelegs crackle and unstick from her coat due to the dried and stained blood. He pulls it off and sets it on the kitchen tile. The smell of iron becomes powerful. The red scattered stains on the blue coat of her legs brings a wince to both of them.

He looks into her eyes, where she refuses to look back at him for a moment. “Moonlight.” She puckers her mouth, her cheeks tint pink from a mix of embarrassment and frustrating hopelessness. “I’ve broken your trust before. The only way I can work to get it back is if you allow me to. Let me do this fer you.”

Her head lowers as her ears lie flat. It hurts Crimson to see her succumb to defeat when she is already backed by a hurricane of hurt and terrible emotions, but he holds out for the light which shines for them. With melancholic resignation, Moonlight sighs softly and begins to walk past him. The man stands back up and stays in place, simply watching her.

She moves to the hallway, her hoofsteps shifting from the clack of kitchen tile to the muffle of carpet, then again to tile when she reaches the hall. She stops at one of several dressers found against the wall under the staircase and opens it with her magic. She retrieves two items which jingle the sound of coins. She then opens another drawer, one located at the bottom of the dresser. She pulls something else out that Crimson cannot see, returning to him thereafter with eyes averted and head still hung low.

He now sees that she retrieved something that resembles another one of her Scribe robes, dark blue in coloration like the one she wore before. He is somewhat confused by this. She offers all three items to him. “One’a yer robes?”

She nods meekly. “Y-Yes, it-- … you can put the baggies in the pockets… since… I don’t think they’ll fit comfortably in… your…” she hints at his hips, where the thin pockets of his skin-tight suit are located. Like a light flickering on, he realizes she thought of something he hardly considered.

He takes the robe first with a careful smile, feeling very grateful that she is not only trusting him, but willing to prepare him as well as she can. In his eyes, she portrays instincts that only a mother could have. This pushes an adoration into his heart that makes him feel as light as wind.

He brings the robe to his waist, being much too small to actually wear, and ties it using the sleeves. He then takes both coin purses and pockets them one on each side. Not being too heavy, he does not fear the coin bags sagging or stretching the robe.

Once he is situated, he notes that Moonlight is now gazing directly up at him. He looks at her in return. He tries to keep his smile to encourage her. “Since I don’t got the cover’a night right now, I wanna be sure. There’s no other folk around, right? I can just fly up from the backyard?”

“Nopony else lives around here, nor does anypony come through. It’s why Celestia deemed it a good place after my… first seclusion.” Remembrance gleams in her eyes. “Oh! Except the postal pony. They’re the only visitor I ever get. But even then, I don’t think Canterlot has updated the UEP with my return here yet. We won´t have anypony to worry about until Monday, when the therapist arrives.”

“That gives us a few days. Perfect.” Crimson takes a step to her and crouches down again. He reaches in and hugs her, to which she immediately comes into his embrace and hugs him back. Once they break apart, he leans in to give her a quick kiss on the lips, where she tries to match it and peck back at the same time.

She was a little slow on the draw. He chuckles lightly, garnering further embarrassment from the little unicorn.

He revels in her awkwardness full heartedly. For only being in the first hour of them illustrating their physical affection for each other, he personally thinks she is doing very well. At least, better than she would have done when they first met. He sees it in her eyes, her recent tragedy has made her considerably more brave. Maybe for the better, maybe for worse. He figures time will tell. He knows full-well that trauma is a good teacher, but he also understands to treat her with care until the bleeding wound turns into a scar.

He simply stares at her for a moment, admiring her adorable form. She seems content doing the same, ogling him in return.

Crimson falls into his muse. With how unapologetically cute she is and what atrocities she had to endure, it is the same depressive contrast he feels when he gave prolonged stares to Dahlia. She did not deserve anything she had to endure. Neither of them did. The fire that burns in his heart will ensure that all parties involved in their suffering will pay dearly. But priorities first. The mares themselves is more important than a self-enacted revenge-trip on their behalf. Return to her safely. This is what he must keep. For both of them.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says as he comes to his full height. He turns and walks towards the sliding glass door. Moonlight tails behind him, though she stops at the threshold rather than following him into the backyard where rain begins to strike him. He looks back to her, to her wide, timid orbs that stare back with anticipation. His smile widens slightly.

She beams back as best as she can against her nerves.

That smile is all he needs. His form combusts with golden fire. It surrounds him like wisps of gold wind. His eyes become pockets of light, his wings and halo piece together immediately.

Moonlight’s heart beats in her ears, feeling something very intimate quiver with delight.

“Before sundown. I’ll be back,” he repeats before looking up to the rainclouds above. He crouches down, puts his hands in the robe’s pockets, furls his wings, and bolts like a blur into the air once he flaps and jumps simultaneously.

Moonlight quickly reaches her hoof to keep her glasses from being blown off her face. Her mane and tail, and the flora around, are brushed aggressively from the powerful wind caused by his jump. By the time she adjusts her glasses and blinks her eyes, the golden light he produces is marred and faded out by the dense rainclouds high above.

She stands still for a moment, looking up to the sky that hides him. “... You promised.”

‎

‎ ‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Hidden Horseshoe Enclosure ~<
‎April 12th, Wednesday, 7:33

‎ ‎
‎

She damns her internal clock, for it is the reason she cannot return to the solace of sleep. In her cement hideaway, there is no clue of the sun’s ascent, no singing of birds, just the grueling pain of her own thoughts catching up to her. She feels too greyed and depressed to want to get up, but too rested to sleep any longer.

Her eyelids come apart slowly, the first thing her adjusting vision sees is the dark grey cloth of the duster she firmly hugs. Having fallen asleep with his clothes in her hold, she feels mild comfort in letting them be the first thing she sees. Maybe it is good that she did, as it now gives her the encouragement to lift her weary head and haul her sluggish body up.

She shimmies to sit on the edge of the bed. She brings the duster with her to continue holding it, glancing over to the clock perched upon the concrete wall of the bunker. Seven forty AM. No better time to struggle through life than early in the morning, she guesses.

She mentally prepares herself for the tasks ahead. Her mind’s eye glazes over the map she is laying out for herself. As she idles at the edge of the bed, a barely audible sound demands her immediate attention.

She glares at the ceiling latch of the bunker, having heard it be lightly disturbed. It goes silent for a moment. She wonders if she was simply hearing things, but it happens again shortly after. It was louder. Perhaps more confident. She tensely assumes that whoever is trying to open the latch is having some trouble lifting it.

Dahlia jumps off the bed and enters a defensive stance. Her glaring eyes watch as the slab is bothered once again, and this time, it comes up. Her teeth grit as she lowers her body, ready to dart in any direction.

“Hello?” a barely audible voice calls over the deafening waterfall.

Dahlia is stricken by its familiarity. Just as she puts a name to the voice, a yellow and pink head pokes itself in. She now finds herself locking eyes with the thing that stares back at her.

“… Strix?” the tan pegasus questions over the noise. When the intruding mare in question notices that Dahlia’s guard drops significantly, she smiles happily.

“Can I come in?” she asks, but it is drowned out by the waterfall.

Still, Dahlia reads her lips. She chews on the idea of having a visitor for a little longer than she should, as Strix’s expression becomes disquieted. Not a moment too soon, her mind is made up. With the motioning with her hoof, she signals Strix to come in. The yellow mare adheres immediately through a gasping smile, crawling in through the ceiling hole before grunting to get the slab back into its place. The awfully loud noise from the fall outside comes to an abrupt end.

Dahlia retreats to the bed again and sits on the edge, not removing her magenta orbs from Strix the entire time. Strix herself lands a few feet away from her without a sound, save for the gentle clanking of her silver armor.

“Hi, Wisp,” Strix bashfully begins, rubbing her left foreleg with her right hoof. “Sorry to, like… bug you outta nowhere like this.”

“It’s… whatever, I guess. Really didn’t expect any of you to come back, honestly.”

“No?” she asks with the tilting of her head.

“Not really. Figured you were all done having business with me.”

“Aw, but that wouldn’t be very nice.”

“Aaand… you’re trying to be nice to me… because…?”

Once again, worry overtakes Strix’s front. “Well, it’s ‘cuz, like… I feel like… you’re going through a lot right now. And if I was in your spot, I’d like somepony to talk to.”

Dahlia sets herself down in her own mind for a few seconds, gauging and internalizing the pink-yellow pegasus before her. She mentally repeats the sound of Strix’s voice in her head, her mannerisms, and even the way she stands – how she leans most of her weight on her two left legs. “… You’re here because you feel bad for me or something?”

Strix’s lifts her pink orbs to stare up at the ends of her own mane wonderingly. “I do feel a little bad, but… only because of what happened to Crimmy.”

Dahlia’s ears stand at attention at the mentioned name, before her entire demeanor deflates severely.

“I, like, saw it on your face, Wisp. The whole time we were watching him. Everything we saw was totally cuckoo… and it was really hurting you.”

Dahlia’s depressive state eases slightly at the empathetic notes of Strix’s voice. But before she allows anything else to break through her stone heart, she glares with squinted eyes to the yellow pegasus. “… Why are you the only one who showed back up?”

“Oh! Like, because BP is guarding the throne room. And captain went to go do royal business early this morning. I haven’t seen her since. My big sis isn’t much of a talker, but she told me to tell you that she ‘wishes you the very best.’ Everypony else would have come to see you again if they weren’t so busy. I’m lucky because my shift hasn’t actually started yet.”

Although Dahlia does not verbally acknowledge Strix, her fallen gaze speaks understanding.

Another terse quietness dances between them. With hesitance, but wrapped with sweetness, Strix speaks up again. “I don’t wanna bug you or make you upset, Wisp, so if, like, you want me to go, I’ll leave you alone. But I wanted to say that what BP said is totally true. If you want to talk to us whenever, just ask for at the Castle’s front desk.”

As Strix humbles herself and prepares to leave, Dahlia finally lifts her eyes from the ground to the mare. “… What did you wanna talk about?”

At being presented an opportunity, she smiles warmly. “Just about, like… how worried I am about you and stuff.”

Dahlia lines her brows. “Worried? About me?” Strix nods twice slowly. “… Why? You don’t even know me.”

“It’s true we don’t know each other too good, but I felt it deep down in my heart… I felt the hurt you were feeling when we were watching all of that Horis stuff happen. I was super happy when Crimmy was able to get away, but I couldn’t ignore the ugly feeling I got from seeing your sadness. I’m really sorry that, like, you two were separated because of that terrible stallion Magnifying...”

Dahlia deflates once more. The echoing depression in her heart and mind chants louder. These emotions are keenly caught by Strix, who in turn also feels this rooted sadness. And just then, in this brief moment, Dahlia gauges Strix again. She witnesses a gut-wrenching frown take ahold of this lively yellow pegasus’ face.

The stone barricades crack. Light shines through. While still too tough to let her emotions naturally slip out, she tries her best to muster a heartfelt thought. “… Thanks, Strix…” she clenches her teeth briefly before finishing, “… that you… care, and stuff.”

Strix is spurred again by her willingness to give her a chance. She takes it. With great bravery, she walks closer to Dahlia, slowly enough to be protested and deferred.

Again, her glee is given fuel when Dahlia does not push her away. She reaches the bed and sits on the edge of it with her.

All Dahlia does in reaction to this is shift her eyes towards her, then back towards the ground.

The room is still for a few seconds, until Strix smites the silence. “… I care a lot about Crimmy too, just like you do. When we first met, he was so fun and easy to talk to. He had a bunch of random questions about Equestria. He didn’t get to talk about himself too much, but I think he’s a super interesting guy.” Strix’s meek smile of waned glee finally loses its strength. She sighs lightly and continues with an expressionless front. “But what I did learn about him from the get-go is that he gets himself into trouble a lot. He even said he has a tendency to get hurt.”

Dalhia gives her full attention to the speaking mare, trying to keep a smirk off her face. “… Guess he’s the same everywhere he goes. What’d he do in front of you guys?”

“He had a little kerfuffle with the Guard on his first day. His first day!” She exclaims with emphasis while putting both hooves on Dahlia’s shoulder. “Punched one guard, kicked another.” A beam of light travels across Dahlia’s head, but she does not verbalize it. “Then a few days later, he goes and fights the first lieutenant and the captain in the sparring pit! He got himself hurt for, like, no good reason!”

While it was not intentional, her mannerisms, physical contact, and gestures put a lopsided simper on Dahlia’s face. “Preaching to the choir, sister. Trust me when I say that I know trouble better than anypony, and he’s definitely it. But I think that’s why I feel sorta understood by him. I get in trouble a lot too.”

“Is it the fun kind of trouble? Or is it the Crimmy kind of trouble?”

Dahlia chuckles lightly, tilting her head away. “Weell… sometimes. It’s fun on occasion. Most of the time, it’s the ‘Crimmy’ kind of trouble. The kind that’ll usually get me killed. Sometimes the two go hoof-in-hoof.”

“Ooo. Do you like living a dangerous life?”

“Uuh… sorta, I guess. I didn’t really pick it, it just kinda decided itself.”

“Mmm~” Strix hums melodically, very obviously thinking about the implications. But soon after, a new idea spurs visibly in her eyes. “Wisp?” she says while putting a gentle hoof on Dahlia’s shoulder again, “what was meeting Crimmy like for you? How did you two bump muzzles?”

Dahlia’s mildly warm attitude drops for lukewarm nothingness again, causing Strix to shrink slightly. “There’s a word I like to use when I think about how I met Crimson. Fate.”

“Like… if it was meant to happen?”

“Yeah. It feels that way each time I think about it.” She pauses briefly to reminisce. Her line of sight meets the ground once more. “Caught wind of an unraided temple in the southern Everfree sometime in the winter last year. Waited until the end of January so all the weird stuff with the forest calms down.”

“Wow. A temple in the Everfree?” Dahlia nods in confirmation. “Was it really big?”

“Underground, yeah. But topside, it’s just a rock and a door hidden in the brush. Easy to miss.”

“Oooh. That’s probably why I haven’t seen it.”

“Few ponies have.”

“Mmm… and this was early this year. That means…” The realization dawns upon her. “That means you met Crimmy before he came to Canterlot.”

“Yup.”

“… And you found him again after he left?”

“We have a winner…”

“Woaah. To think you and Crimmy, like, already knew each other before all of this.”

“Yeah. Things have been interesting to say the least. Anyway, it was a normal day like any other when I decided to prep and get to tackling the temple. I get there, and I find Crimson laying in front of it…” Strix’s eyes open slightly wider from their naturally half-lidded state. “… Almost dead.”

Strix gasps with both hooves over her mouth. “That’s horrible!”

“Yeah. Doofus tried to open the door to the temple. Got stuck with a paralysis dart. Sucked out the poison myself. Mouth was numb for a few hours, but it went away by the time I dragged him back to a lodge I was staying in further west. He was out for about three days before he came to.”

“My goodness, three whole days?” Dahlia nods in response. “Mmm... well, maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised. Crimmy has lived through a lot of awful things that would normally kill other ponies.”

“… Ain’t that the truth.”

Strix takes a moment to glaze over Dahlia’s physical language. The tan pegasus feels her pink orbs taking in her details, but she bothers not to comment or return the stare.

“… You really, really like Crimmy, don’t you, Wisp?”

Dahlia’s body tenses lightly, as if briefly shocked. “W-Well, yeah… duh. Thought it was obvious.”

“Mm,” Strix shakes her head, leaning closer to her. “I mean, like… reaaally, really like him~”

Again, the tan pegasus freezes for a second. “Gh—Wh-- … What? Why are you saying it like that? What’re you trying to say?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, Wisp…” her faint smile strengthens just a bit further, “… I really, really like him too.”

Her previous shock now turns into a bolt of lightning. Dahlia’s very coat stands on its toes as she glares back at Strix in disbelief. “Waah?”

Strix giggles at the face Dahlia makes, but nods earnestly. “I thought about it a lot, actually. And it, like, all made sense to me. Crimmy is really big and really strong, but he doesn’t use his strength to hurt or steal from innocent ponies. He used his strength to protect me and my friends. That makes him really awesome in my books. And, like, what really make me realize he’s special, is that he’s an easygoing and super genuine guy. I really like that. Plus, he’s really patient. Like, when we were in the Guard, Banter was being a meany to him but Crimmy didn’t let it bother him. And, he wasn’t even angry at us for our really big fail in Yakyakistan. If we were as patient as he was with the yak prince, he would have probably given us the belt… without Crimmy coming home in… twists and pieces…”

Dahlia’s brows furrow deeply. “… Yak prince? Yakyakistan? You’re telling me that you guys went all the way out there for that stupid-ass belt?” Strix warily nods twice. “And what do you mean Crimson came home in twists?”

A remorseful sigh makes it out of Strix’s mouth. “We tried negotiating with the yak prince for the belt, but he didn’t want money. He wanted, um… I guess, ‘proof’ that we were worthy. Crimmy offered to do his ‘trials.’ But the prince didn’t wanna stop giving him more trials after finishing the first ones. The trails started to hurt Crimmy, and he didn’t mind… but we did. So we dropped the deal and demanded they give the belt over. The yak prince got… angry. He ended up putting on the belt, and he tried running us down…”

“Oh, shit…”

“… And Crimmy stopped him head-on.”

Dahlia exhales sharp enough to cut the air in front of her, mentally fitting the puzzle into place. “… Oh my stars…”

Strix fights to put on a smile, doing her best to avoid the heartache and gloom. “But, Crimmy survived. He saved us, and he survived. H-He wasn’t even mad at us when we saw him again.” Her cheeks tint pink as she recalls specific memories. “… I was drunk as a skunk with BP when I saw him again. It’s so funny too, because me and BP started drinking so much because of how guilty we felt from Yakyakistan. I… really, really regret getting drunk that night, because… I couldn’t even talk to Crimmy right. All the smart things I wanted to say didn’t come out. Then I fell asleep. I didn’t wake up until after he left for Las Pegasus… and I didn’t hear from him again…”

Dahlia finds herself unable to add to the conversation after Strix’s hard-fought smile finally falls. As if her melancholy was her own, the tan pegasus bites her lower lip and stares at the floor of the bunker.

Though, it is not more than a few more seconds before Strix smiles tenderly again, joining her in staring at the ground a few feet in front of them. “… It’s super weird, I think.”

Dahlia furrows her brows, giving the yellow pegasus an incredulous look. “What is?”

Strix closes her eyes peacefully. “Me really, really liking Crimmy. I know why I do, I just don’t know how it happened.” Dahlia’s inquisitive look only strengthens at the vague statement. “Because, like… I’ve met a lot of really cool ponies and stuff. Really nice ponies too. But I, um… like… haven’t felt this way about them. At least, not like this…”

Again, Dahlia remains unspeaking. Her mind is alight with more burning thoughts than she would like, all in due to the uncanny parallel she is drawing from the mare who speaks to her.

The bubbly Strix continues speaking. “The weird thing is, I like making new friends. And, like, there’s so many great ponies in the Guard and stuff. I think a lot of ponies like talking to me, and I like to talk to them too. But at the end of the day, I only ever like to hang out with my big sis and BP, and sometimes the captain when she’s free. I haven’t felt like… hanging out with anypony else. Maybe it’s my fault? Do I make you feel like I’m not ‘hangout-able?’”

The tan pegasus cannot help but crack a wry smirk at the non-word. A strangely honest piece of her mind breaks off and finds its way out of her mouth. “I barely know you, but you’ve somehow got me talking about stuff I don’t normally talk about. If that’s not a sign you’re 'hangout-able,' nothing else is.”

“Aw, that’s really nice of you~”

“Uuh… y-yeah. I guess.” Dahlia stutters clumsily before letting herself sink into thought. She arrives at another station of muse, mulling ideas, and mixing them all in a mental bowl to create her assumption. “… If I had to guess… do you think you’re somehow preventing ponies from getting too close?”

Strix lightens, obviously impressed. Her brows raise and her eyes open a little wider than normal. “Yeah! That’s, like, totally it!—Um. At least, I think that’s why. I don’t like to think about negative stuff too much because it bums me out, but… yeah.”

“… Huh,” Dahlia hums, letting her mind wander briefly.

“… Do, um… do you feel the same way?”

Dahlia remains unresponsive for a second or two before nodding solemnly. “But unlike you, I know for sure that I’m the problem. Crimson was… kind of a victim of that.”

“Mm?” she tilts her head curiously.

“… Just… I was so mean to him because of what I had to go through when I was younger. Wounds that never healed, I guess. All Crimson wanted to do was go home after winding up in Equestria, and I kinda boned him over by selling his clothes and stuff. We made an agreement to partner up to try and get him home as some kind of compensation for me doing what I did. I normally don’t feel bad for doing shit like that, but… for whatever reason, I did with him. Just before we partnered up, we almost agreed to part ways and forget about each other… but before he did, he asked for my name… and thanked me for saving his life.”

Strix’s loose smile becomes wider and truer.

“… I don’t know why that meant so much to me. Other ponies have done more than just say ‘thanks.’”

“Maybe because he really meant it. Crimmy saw the best in you. There’s a lot of bad in the world, and, like, he knows that as much as anypony else. Even if you did something mean to him, he didn’t forget that you also did something nice for him. He’s like that. Heh, it might be me just being silly, but I feel like I saw it in his eyes. He looks at the best in all of the bad things because of how many bad things he’s had to go through. … And, like… I think… I think that’s maybe why I really, really like him too. It’s been a long time since I’ve met somepony as… I guess, ‘genuine’ as him.”

Dahlia’s eyes come to a squint. The further Strix continues to speak, the more her eyes glisten.

“I felt so sad when he left to Las Pegasus. Then he disappeared. … A part of me makes me think he forgot about us.”

Dahlia’s emotional roil hits a bump. In her heart-fueled haste, she lifts her head to gawk at Strix and call, “He didn’t.” Strix returns a look of concern and bewilderment. “He hasn’t.”

“… He hasn’t?”

“I-I didn’t… I didn’t ask him or anything, but… trust me. He hasn’t forgotten about you.” Her highly risen feelings simmer slightly, allowing her to slow down and pace herself. “… And I know this because… I felt the exact same way as you. After Celestia’s goons took him away from me the first time, he… didn’t come back to me. I tried searching for him. I spent almost all my money and two weeks of my life solely looking for him around Canterlot and places around it. … I couldn’t find him. And when I started hearing stories of the ‘glorious angel’ that started working miracles in the Guard, I was…” Her eyelids come closer together, squinting her phantom rage, “… I was so fucking pissed at him. I thought he forgot about me and kept living his great, grand life. … But like you guessed, we found each other. … Or better yet, he found me. On one random day, he just… showed up again. I tried getting him to buzz off, but he refused to let me go.”

The pink-yellow mare leans down slightly, ensuring that her softly smiling front is visible in Dahlia’s musing peripheral. The tan pegasus ends up giving her attention to Strix, unable to stave off a simper of her own.

“… So, even though it looks like he’s forgotten about you, don’t think for a second he has. I learned that the hard way. And judging by all the shit that’s happened, Moonlight learned this too.”

At the mentioning of the unicorn, both of their smiles transfer into frowns. “… Poor Moonlight,” Strix hums.

“… Yeah. That’s… it’s… rough.”

“Me and her were really good friends years ago. All of us were – my sis Swirly, BP, and even the captain. I still care a lot about her, even if it’s been a long time. Seeing what she had to go through, like, makes me feel sick to my heart and my stomach.”

Both mares bask in these painful feelings for much longer than necessary, only broken when Dahlia utters. “Friends. Moonlight, Crimson, you, the others… weird how it all works, huh?”

“Mmha,” Strix hums happily. “And you too, Wisp. You’ve got me thinking the same thing now. That maybe this is all happening because of fate.”

“Heh. At least somepony doesn’t think I’m crazy."

“No! Never! You’re, like, really down to earth and think about things super well. I’m really happy that you let me talk with you.”

“Yeah… not a problem… but, uh… Strix…”

“Mm?”

“… About what you said earlier. About you ‘really, really’ liking Crimson.”

“Mhm?”

“… You told me all of this even though you knew I feel that way about him too.” Her magenta orbs narrow very slightly, but just enough for Strix to obtain their energy. “… Is there something you’re trying to say?” As if stricken with whiplash, Strix pulls her head back with a shy frown. This reaction quickly begets a regretful expression from Dahlia, as she grits her teeth from the guilt. “W-What? What’s with that look?”

“Oh. No, it’s just, like, I totally get where you’re coming from, Wisp. I-I’m not, like… trying to take him away from you, if you’re… w-wondering…”

Dahlia’s mouth falls open.

“I was just trying to tell you what I felt so you could feel better about your feelings. I don’t mean to be pushy or weird, but… I feel like I see it in your eyes. You really, really like Crimmy, but aren’t sure what to do. I feel like your feelings are all over the place right now…”

A tick of pain shoots from Dahlia’s heart, finding great displeasure at being read so clearly.

“Um, like… me. I, like, don’t have a special somepony. And what I said before is probably why. And that’s okay! Life’s too crazy for these things, and besides…” She leans closer to Dahlia again and places a soft hoof on her shoulder. “… You met him first. It’d be super uncool of me to mess with that. I just want you to know that, whatever it is you feel or want to say, you should stick true to it. If you really, really like Crimmy, don’t let those feelings hide away. No matter what anypony says.”

The anxious surprise which was overriding Dahlia’s senses melts into her self-reproach. A longwinded sigh runs out of her mouth, accompanied by a loose slouch. “… I’m sorry if I sounded like a bitch just then, Strix. I’ve got a really bad habit of saying really mean shit before seeing the full picture.”

“Aw, no! You’re not being a bitch, you’re just trying to protect what you love.”

“Yeah, but I don’t need to be mean to do that.”

“It’s okay, Wisp. It’s one of those things you work on over time.” Strix glances away, resting her eyes down on her own tummy. “Um… Wisp?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re still planning on looking for Crimmy, right?”

“… Yeah.”

“Yay. That makes me a little happier.”

“Well… uh… I’m glad it does. I’d, y’know… ask you to join and help me, but you’re a Guardspony still. I don’t think it’d be a good idea.”

“Oh, no, you’re totally right about that. It would be a bad idea to go looking for him. Even BP agrees, and I know for sure that he would love to! And me too! But sadly, BP, Captain Snowfall, and me only have one day off a week, and even then, we’re still on call. My sister wouldn’t be happy with the idea either, with all of the ugly things happening with the Horseshoes and stuff.”

“I get you. … So. What did you really wanna ask?”

Not expected to be placed on this spot so quickly, Strix stammers. “Oh—uhm! Yeah! So, like, eheh... I was gonna ask you, y’know… if it’s not too much trouble for you. If you do find Crimmy somewhere… can you, um… please, let him know that I, like… um… miss him?”

Dahlia’s expression softens at the request. She rubs her lips side to side, avoiding Strix’s gaze until she is ready to answer. “Yeah. No problem, Strix.”

“Yay! Thank you!” Dahlia is thrown a curve ball when Strix brazenly wraps herself around her for a hug. The tan mare’s mouth puckers, her one non-smothered eye breaks open, but she does not fight it. The embrace is warm and tender, regardless of the cold silver breastplate. Strix opens one eye to stare at Dahlia’s, finally saying, “You’re the best, Wisp.”

Strix then parts herself from Dahlia, giggling before she finishes. “Maybe one day we can all hang out again! Just like Crimmy promised!”

“… Promised?” Dahlia counter-assesses.

“Mhm,” she nods, lifting her eyes as if staring up at her own low-hanging pink mane. “When we first met, Crimmy had promised me that we’d be able to hang out again. And, like, I don’t mean ‘hang out’ by, like, just being around each other. Because we did that a lot in the Guard on our missions. I mean ‘hang out’ by, like…”

“… Just chilling and stuff.”

A happy gasp comes from Strix. “Yeaah! Exactlyyy!~ You’re super smart, Wisp!”

A wash of heavy pensiveness catches Dahlia, but she tries not to show it overtly. “… Hmh. Interesting thing to make a promise about, but… I guess I can see it.”

“It’ll be so much fun! You, me, Crimmy, and all of our friends! We’ll be, like, one big happy family!”

Dahlia nods twice with little energy, obviously trying to keep a collected front. “Yeah, but I thought you said you couldn’t get off guard duty ‘cause you’re ‘on call.’”

Strix deflates once again, giving her warm and jovial air a cold wind. “It’ll be tough, ‘cause, like, we won’t be able to unless we all request a specific day. And I’m not sure Swirly would want to risk leaving Canterlot without a good reason. The Consortium is keeping a close eye on everypony now. Well, everypony in the more important groups, like the Royal Researchers.”

“Aren’t you apart of an ‘important group?’ The Elite or whatever?” she says, pointing to the yellow mare’s pristine armor.

“Oh yeah, but like, the Consortium put an official hiatus on the title since we haven’t had assignments for a while. Celestia said we’ve been ‘dispersed’ but she let us keep our armor as a ‘thanks.’ And since I’m just a lowly patrol sergeant, they don’t really look at me. But BP, captain, and my big sis might have a little bit of trouble.”

“Hm,” Dahlia sounds out her understanding. “I get’cha. Well… maybe one day we’ll all… hang out. And stuff.”

“I can’t wait!” Strix cheers her glee, going in for another hug. The tan pegasus once again accepts it but does not return it, draped over by mild embarrassment.

“And, uh… Strix?”

“Hm?” she hums as she still nestles her cheek on the tan mare’s.

“… Call me Dahlia. Not Wisp.”

“Oh?” she emits while finally breaking the hug.

“I don’t really wanna get into it right now, but… yeah. Don’t call me Wisp anymore. My real name’s Dahlia Do.”

Strix’s eyes gleam, giving sign to Dahlia that she acknowledges the implications. The peppy yellow mare nods quickly with an equally ecstatic beam. “That’s a cute name~ Dahlia Do,” she hums it to herself, hugging her own self and rocking left and right. “Oh! Dahlia Do! D, and D!” She gasps, shifting her gleaming pink orbs to those of deep magenta.

“… Yes, Strix. You can call me Deedee.”

Strix gasps, holding her hooves over her chest. “You read my mind! Can you read minds?”

“Heh. Only some of them. But,” she says quickly, trying to prevent the yellow mare from spurring further conversation out of her, “listen, Strix... a-as embarrassing as it is to say this… I appreciate that you bothered to come back just to talk to me. I don’t wanna hold you up from your Guard business anymore, and I should probably get going. Don’t wanna lose too much of the day.”

“I totally get you, Deedee. It’s no biggie for me, since all I have to do is attend a big ceremony thingy today. Then I’m free after that. Honestly, I know you wanna find Crimmy sooner than later, but I think it’s something you should see too. It’s, um, like… kinda important. To Equestria and stuff.”

“… To Equestria?”

“Yu-huh! It should be starting now,” Strix hops off the bed and spins while unfurling her right wing, using it to take ahold of Dahlia’s arm and pull her gently.

“Woah, woah, slow down, Strix. Need more info before I think about going to your thing.”

“Ehe~” she bashfully chuckles, “oopsie. I got a little excited. Yeah! It’s gonna be at the Canterlot Stadium. I think the whole thingy will last about two hours. After it’s over, the Canterlot Tram should be open for departures again, and they’ll offer complimentary tickets ‘cause of the event. You can start looking for Crimmy right after!”

“Oh. Cool. A free ticket sounds nice. And I guess this is an ‘open to the public’ event?”

“Yupperoonie!”

“What’s it even about if it’s so important?”

“I actually have no idea! But I was told by my command sergeant major that the Royal Armies General is going to be there, so it’s definitely gonna be something big.”

Strix continues to lightly tug Dahlia’s arm. With enough option-weighing and self-debating, Dahlia finally lets herself be pulled and comes off of the bed as well. Standing face to face with Strix, she declares, “alright, I’ll go to your thing.”

“You won’t regret it, I don’t think! Haha!~”

“Yeah. And like you said, I’ll get to looking for Crimson right after it’s done. That means… y’know…”

“Mm?” Strix tilts her head, still smiling jovially.

A golf ball of awkwardness is making itself at home in Dahlia’s throat. She tries twice to swallow it down, but her steeled nerves and apathetic tendencies are now clamping down on her.

“… Ooooh,” Strix coos in curious assumption. “That means we won’t get to say goodbye to each other, right?”

Like a wind of relief breezing through her soul, her shoulders droop and her tension eases. She nods twice, grateful that she picked up what was scarcely put down.

“Aww!~” For the third time, Strix dives in for an intimate hug. She nestles her head next to Dahlia’s, holding her tightly. “Mmm~” she hums melodically, savoring the embrace.

While Dahlia’s only external reaction is to lift her hoof to gently pat Strix’s back, her head and heart bask in the glow of the genuine affection the pink-yellow mare bestows.

Their hug lasts a fair few seconds, where Dahlia is the one who motions to ease it off. They come apart and exchange one more tender smile with one another.

“Let’s get hopping!” Strix beams. “The thingy’s gonna start!”

“Y-Yeah… right behind you.”

The pink-yellow pegasus takes a bubbly lead and ushers Dahlia to the ladder which leads topside. She flies up to the stone hatch, puffing her cheeks out to push it out. With a “pwah!” she gets it up and pushes it aside.

Dahlia uses her own wings to fly behind. Though, before she exits the bunker, she takes one more look towards the scattered belongings on the bunkbed – the duster, the boots, and the articles of clothing. Her gaze softens at letting them knock on her heart. Then, without further ado, she flies up to join Strix.

The duo trot to the right end of the fall, taking high caution not to be caught emerging. While Dahlia is surprised and somewhat worried when there is absolutely no one around in the Gardens or the orchard, Strix deems this normal and tilts her head to signal their continuance. The two hop out and begin flying towards the resonating ruckus quite far out – something that is barely in earshot.

Just as Strix mentioned, the Canterlot Stadium is alive. Loud booms, hollering crowds, and unintelligible speaking echo in the semi-cloudy skies.

Dahlia continues following Strix, flying deeper into the city to attend the boisterous event.

‎

~~~<

‎

The Canterlot Stadium brims to the peak with ponies of the city. Their voices clamor and overlap, much distress finds itself among the crowd. Several figures are present at the stage located directly in the center of the stadium, prepping themselves. Most are sat in seats, there is an item covered by a teal blanket, and one stallion stands just before the podium with a magically-powered acoustics enhancer.

A burly stallion suited in a fine tan uniform with many ribbons and medals across his coat walks to the magically-powered blue bulb which transmits his voice. He clears his throat away from the mic before speaking into it. “A fine morning to you, citizens of Canterlot.” Once his deep, commanding voice echoes through the stadium, the noise of the crowd dies down quickly. “It brings me joy to see Equestria’s finest together like this. I welcome you all to this grand meeting on behalf of the Canterlot Castle, as we have the pleasure of informing you of the new and exciting changes happening here at your very home. I am General Terran, your military head.”

Cheers and whistles boom from every attending pony, some shouting at the top of their lungs, “I love you, General!” or “Please sign my son’s beret!”

The General smiles warmly, knowing that the hearts of the civilians are kept close. His strategy and leadership were able to save Canterlot during the Great War against both a changeling and dragon raid, and he has been honored ever since. “Thank you, everypony. Even in my older years, your reverence is what keeps me strong and able. There is a number of things we must discuss. Firstly, and most importantly, consumer changes. Because we all know a healthy economy is a healthy pony. I am pleased to announce that the Consortium will be decreasing all tariffs and taxes on imported goods by three percent. Home-grown produce will gain a tax break after seventy-thousand bits in revenue.”

Hollers of happiness shake the stadium. “No way!” “That’s amazing!” “Oh my stars, finally!”

The General smiles and looks around steadily, waiting for emotions to settle. “Along with this decrease in your rates, a new orphanage is being constructed in the yellow district. We have heard your cries and please, Canterlot, and we strive to tackle the rising homelessness for our youth head on.”

The crowd responds with nothing but positive chants.

“Now let us set sights on the staunch protectors of our fine city. There is both good and bad news I must inform you of.”

The positivity in the crowd presses down to seriousness.

"I would like to shine light on the events which transpired a week ago. Some of you may already know, but a terrorist attack took the life of one of our best Royal Researchers.” A mare standing behind the General on the stage uses her teeth to remove the teal blanket which was hiding something underneath. A monumental painted portrait of a grey and light blue unicorn stallion displays for all to see. “Magnifying Glass was a valued member of our research team, he was a great friend to many, and I know many of you had the pleasure of meeting him during last year’s Brightest Minds science fair at the Magic Academy. Any fathers and mothers out there who have received invitations to the Magical Institute undergraduate program for their children have him to thank for hosting the event. And in return for him, a sermon is being held tonight at seven in the evening, and we ask that you please attend.”

A heavy and morose air takes the stadium. The General stops speaking for a moment to let his words sink.

“And with this topic at hoof, I would like to address the rumors which have been floating amongst our population. Magnifying Glass was a friend to all, and his prestigious record precedes him. With the approval of the Consortium and the families involved, I shall recant the events of that night. Magnifying Glass and the Canterlot Head Researcher, which was requested by our leadership to remain unnamed, were working their graveyard shifts. Their routine work was abruptly interrupted when an assassin had infiltrated the Castle using technologies unknown to us. These technologies allowed the assassin to bypass our hawk-eyed Nightguard and the security systems we have in place. Rest assured, we are dedicating heavy resources to understanding this technology and reinforcing Canterlot’s protection from these foreign threats.”

Skeptical muttering can be heard all across the stadium.

“Our detective marshal deduced that the goal of this terrorist was to assassinate our Head Researcher, not Magnifying Glass. In an act of bravery and courage, Magnifying Glass was able to save the Head Researcher and buy the Nightguard enough time to surround the assassin. Unfortunately, Magnifying Glass did not survive the encounter.”

Much of the crowd takes on sadness or agitation. “Kill the bastard!” one of the crowdponies shout indiscriminately. The crowds cheer at this crude calling.

The General lifts his hoof to ask silence from the crowd. “This is where complications arise, and where your cooperation will be needed. I must address the first rumor, one which many of you are familiar with. A name which brings concern, and sometimes fear, the Black Horseshoes.”

Gasps and widened eyes flow through the crowd at the name being spoken.

“Magnifying Glass has been accused of having close ties to this gang.” His serious, squinted eyes shift left and right among the crowd. “These rumors are true.”

More frantic and dramatic gasps strike the crowd.

“But understand, my fellow ponies, that the Black Horseshoes are not our enemies, as many have thought. Magnifying Glass gave his life to protect one of ours, and the tax reductions being implemented are in due to their generosity and financial backing. We, of Canterlot, are looking to expand this relationship. Do not mistake this as working for them, but instead alongside them. We shall remain independent, and our jurisdiction stays the same. The Great War has caused tremendous suffering, and the effects it has had on our economy are still seen to this day. Our interest is in you, my fellow ponies."

“WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR MY CHILDREN!? WILL THEY BE SOLD AS SLAVES!?” a mare shouts from the stands, her voice amplified through the stadium’s receivers by a Guardspony, who levitates a smaller blue orb to her. This question causes others to start shouting questions, but they do not receive the amplifier. It is retracted by the guard once the crowds become agitated.

“Worry not, my beautiful citizens,” the General smiles at the direction of the voice, “we shall hold a brief question and answer at the end of our meeting. Please save them for then.”

The questions and shouting die down slowly at his promise.

“Thank you all for your continued patience. The Black Horseshoes certainly have a reputation that many could find negative, repulsive even, but do not let it taunt your vision of the future. The Black Horseshoes strive to improve Equestria’s quality of life. Even through uncivilized means, the fruit of the burden will become greater than the toil. The same regards cannot be said by other, much more despicable gangs that plague our lands. A rival gang employed the assassin. If your hatred should be dedicated towards a faction, it must be the Sleeping Talons. Their self-interested, continued acts of terrorism cannot be overlooked. This leads us to our final topic of discussion. It pains me to say that we may have terrorist sympathizers here in our beautiful city of Canterlot. Because of this, we have made several arrangements to our leadership team, and we would love nothing more than to show to you who is now commanding your Royal Guard. Please put your hooves together for your new Head of the Royal Guard: Captain Banter.”

Cheering runs through the crowd. The stallion in question rises from the chair he was sitting in, exchanging a quick word with a mare to his side, then walks to the podium. He has a few cards tucked under his left wing. The General steps back and allows him to take the bulb and podium.

Banter sets the cards discreetly down on the podium, remembering what he was taught. He tries not to look at the cards too much and glazes his eyes through the crowd with a smirk. “Good morning, Canterlot. I am…” he glances down at the card, “pleased to have your acquaintance this morning. Just as the General has said, with…” he glances down, “great pleasure, I will now assume the role as Captain of the Royal Guard. It’s an honor to lead such a powerful and talented force of ponies, all to protect and serve you. We have become complacent, and we allowed this… preventable tragedy, to come about us. Lay your… heads, easy now, knowing that we will never rest in keeping you safe. Effective next week, we will have alternating patrols among the city, ensuring everypony’s safety. We are also reworking our training, nutrition, and education regiments to better prepare our troops for the task of protecting you all. We are here for you. Do not be afraid to approach a Guardspony and say hi. There is… nothing more that we want, but to build a f-… favorable relationship, with you all. We also ask that you report any suspicious activity immediately to the patrols, so justice may… act swiftly. Also, to… a-‘accommodate’ our rising… safety, standards, we will also increase our staffing force by… sixty-five percent. So! If you know any strong and determined ponies interested in a career with many benefits and an excellent retirement plan, send them my way to enlist in the Royal Guard today!”

His pep sounds forced at the end, but the reception seems to go well. The crowd cheers and claps their hooves. Banter looks back to the General, as if looking for approval. The General nods once proudly. Banter faces the crowd again and smiles.

“Thank you all again for coming out today, and I will see you at the sermon tonight!” His enthusiasm sounds a bit more genuine and he waves to the crowd. They continue to cheer him on as he backs away from the podium and returns to his seat. The mare he sits next to reaches in and hits his shoulder gently. He responds with a chuckle and some words.

The General reassumes his position in the podium, addressing the crowds once again.

‎

‎

~ The Appaloosan Mountains, the Hallowed Demesne ~<
‎ April 12th, Wednesday, 9:42

‎

Storm clouds hang high above the dewy morning, but the rain has finally stopped in southern Equestria. Atop the Appaloosan Mountains, the mansion which once belong to the Doyens still sits.

The solid oak doors which lead into the great chamber come open by the hooves of two servant ponies. Heads lowered, posture humbled, they look into the immense room, towards the stallion who sits in a brand-new throne made specifically for him. Banging can be heard, the sounds of construction are next to him.

“My lord,” one of the servant mares speaks up, “may we enter?”

Horis looks bored. He rests his head on his hoof as he reclines back with little interest to the ponies which make their presence known. He beckons them with his other hoof, bothering not with a verbal reply.

“T-Thank you, my lord.”

The two servants enter the chamber timidly. One of them glances to the left towards the racket. Three stallions wearing toolbelts and thick shirts are working to repair the incredible hole caused by the violent encounter which happened last night. The rest of the chamber appears to already be repaired and in mint condition, with many new personal touches which include more green-colored fixtures.

The two servants stop at the base of the staircase that leads up to his throne. Together they bow to him.

“What news have you?” Horis asks his servants sternly.

“A letter of reply, my lord,” the same servant replies.

Horis takes interest and sits up promptly. “Finally. I was beginning to think I would need to pay her highness a visit in-pony. Let me see it.”

The servant trepidly reaches into her saddlebags and retrieves a tan letter wrapped with a pink ribbon. She ascends the staircase step by step until she greets him at the top. She bends down, puts her flank up in the air, and offers the letter.

Horis channels his magic to take it, unravel it, and read it. He mumbles the words to himself aloud.

To Horis,

Greetings from afar. I hope this letter finds you well. Finding a starting point will be difficult; there is much to discuss. Firstly, I thank you for bringing to light the recent events regarding the Horseshoes. I welcome your return with open hooves, words cannot express my shock and awe. Your comrades would be jealous of your success. I never once doubted your abilities.

Next, I would like to discuss your proposition. I understand that you wish to move quickly, but please understand that Equestria is being forced through many changes, including the aforementioned state of affairs with the Black Horseshoes. You have my word that our forces will unite, and soon you will have access to Consortium resources. Though, as it stands now, I cannot allow your forces to publicly quarter in Canterlot. Not with the unrest caused by the death of my researcher. Despite this, we have executed the first half of this agreement – our unwilling volunteer has stepped down from her position as captain. A new captain who is comfortable volunteering has been placed. I will follow up with you on the latter half of this request in due time.

Onto your next request, the Consortium has already enacted and issued the bounty for the angel. Strictly to be taken alive, at your request. I understand your concerns, but I cannot expend the resources or pony-power to hunt him down and hold him captive. As agreed, our scouts are supplying a constant relay of information which will be sent to your subordinates. Your units may use this information to find and detain him in the event he is spotted.

For your final request, and as mentioned prior, our volunteer is in place and making preparations. I ask that you ensure his health and safety in order to prevent further turmoil in between Canterlot and the Horseshoes. Your first request will likely hinge on the success of this project. The volunteer is scheduled to accept your visitor tomorrow evening. By the time you receive this letter, it should be by tonight. Please make preparations of your own, your visitor will return with all of the information and the results of the experiment the following afternoon.

I am very excited to work with you again, Horis. We will synergize as beautifully now as we did during the Great War, but with flourishing of life, rather than bloodshed and death. My best regards.

Yours truly,

Celestia

“Hmh,” the stallion huffs with a slight smirk. “I sense indecisiveness from you, princess. Little do you know this is only the beginning.” He ravels up the letter, levitating it back to the servant which gave it to him. “Advise the bookkeep and ready the mage. Allot any appropriate resources for her trip to Canterlot.”

“At once, my lord.” The mare closes her eyes and lowers her face before rising quickly and carefully taking the scroll back. She hastily trots down the staircase and exits the chamber with the other servant she came in with. They shut the heavy doors to the chamber, leaving Horis with the construction ponies.

The stallion rests his head of his hoof again, a slight grin rests on his lips. He takes in a deep breath before exhaling and whispering to himself. “Do not disappoint me, Celestia.”

‎

‎

“I will be here… always…”

Roundabout Notion

“Crimson…”

‎

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Celestia’s Quarters ~<
April 12th, Wednesday, 9:03

‎

“That cannot be done, Luna,” Celestia states severely as she writes into parchment. Both she and Luna are in her regal bedroom, where the sleepy-blue princess rests on her tummy upon her sister’s bed.

“Why not, sister?” Luna inquires, actively keeping a meek and unobtrusive tone.

"It simply cannot.”

“But why not, sister? What is the purpose of keeping him our enemy?”

“He committed murder.”

“But sister Celestia, the stallion he vanquished was harming your pupil. Thyself hast celebrated this fact. This does not mention the good he did during his time in the Guard.”

“Luna, let us not discuss this further. If what you say reaches the wrong ears, it would end terribly for the both of us. Canterlot is much too sensitive right now, so we must tread these murky waters carefully.”

“The only ears are ours now, sister. I have nothing to worry about, surely. I only ask, why expend the resources? He was once our ally."

“He was, Luna. But despite our grief, that is no longer the case.”

“We have the authority to pardon him.”

“Luna,” the white alicorn stops writing, glancing over her shoulder to her sister behind her, “I am already overstepping my bounds with Horis by rejecting the scouting parties he requested. Any further denials can destabilize our relationship.”

“But as you told me, sister. You are in debt to Crimson for saving Moonlight Wish from that wretched stallion. Surely this is the least we can do for his act of graciousness."

“There are many things I wish I could do to show him my eternal gratitude for saving Moonlight. But I know I am making the right choice.”

“I fail to see the legitimacy of holding onto Crimson’s bounty…”

Celestia returns her gaze to her parchment and continues writing. “I am not asking you to.”

Finding herself incapable of countering Celestia’s blunt statement, she gently exhales and sets down a new mental track. “You have yet to elaborate on the circumstance begotten by the Elite squadron.”

“This again, sister?” she stops her writing simply to give a condescending glance to the younger alicorn. “I would rather not repeat myself.”

“How could you say that you are repeating yourself when you have yet to explain the situation?”

Celestia critically looks forward at the wall in front of her. “I will explain this only once. I expect that you speak of this to nopony. Ever.”

“By my sign as Keeper of the Night, sister.”

The white alicorn sighs, letting her eyes wander to a candle that lights her workstation. “… Our current Captain of the Royal Guard, Snowfall Winter. She was… selected, by Horis himself to be the catalyst of his creation.”

“His creation?”

“A magic-based physical empowerment serum.”

Luna visibly ponders, drawing memories from hundreds of years ago. Once the correlation sparks, her front churns to a deep frown. “… Could this be the same vile concoction he brewed during the Great War?”

“… Yes. It is.”

“Sister,” she starts with careful urgency, “this serum caused the untimely fates of many ponies during its production. It is no exaggeration to say that this creation of Horis is an abomination.”

“There were many sacrifices during the serum’s development, it’s true, but I witnessed it with own eyes. He managed to perfect it before he injected his consciousness into the Hourglass. There are no safety or health concerns with the serum in its current state.”

“It has been almost four centuries, sister Celestia. Such a complex and vile substance has surely been lost to Horis’ remembrance.”

“He needs not remember so quickly, Luna. The Hallowed Demesne has a vast supply of vials stored away in the mansion’s cellar. By the time he has exhausted this supply, he would have perfected it several times over once again.”

“What!?” she whisper-cries. She sits up from her laying position, shooting her shrunken pupils to the back of Celestia’s head. “It was there all this time!?” The pink-maned princess simply nods at her parchment. “Why am I being informed barely now? How long did you plan to hide this!?”

“I hid nothing from you, Luna. Do not put me in such a light. There was simply no reason to tell you, and you never asked pertinent questions, as you’re doing now.”

“But, this… this cannot be. This means the vials are centuries old. They could be unstable! Or expired!”

“Do not be foolish, sister. Magic does not ‘expire.’ The secure containment of his serum will preserve it until the end of Equus itself.”

“But…” Luna starts, but realizes quickly that she has no suitable rebuttal. “… Th-Then, what does Horis contrive with our own Snowfall Winter?”

“He selected Captain Winter due to her social stature. She was supposed to accept the serum, though she declined. So now she is being replaced by another pony with equivalent social pull - a pony who did not turn down the serum.”

“Snowfall Winter is one of the most loyal subjects Canterlot has ever employed. Her career was prematurely stricken on the basis of Horis’ scheme. Why do you hang the future of Equestria on his word?”

“Have you forgotten what we’ve barely emerged from? Has twenty five years done away with your memory of the atrocities ponykind experienced due to the War?”

“… I have not forgotten.”

“Then keep every terrible happening during the War fresh in your mind when you think of Horis. His creation is the key to ensure we never suffer from another worldwide catastrophe again.”

“What does he hope we become? Monsters? Creatures who vaguely resemble what we once were? Does self-defense warrant everypony becoming a weapon of grand destruction?”

“If it is here we disagree, Luna, then we have nothing further to discuss. Because unlike yourself, I will not see my ponies suffer so greatly ever again. We will become self-sufficient. Ponykind will prosper. This is the only concept which concerns me.”

“I urge you to see this from another lens, sister. The Great War is over. We emerged victorious despite all of our losses. You are an incredible warrior, but now is not the time to fight. We have not needed large-scale combat in the last two decades. We must not rule Equestria as leaders of an army. We should instead rule it as a leaders of the common pony.”

“And how do you suppose Equestria was ruled before us? The Great War was allowed to happen.”

“Yes, but—"

“No ‘buts,’ Luna. Understand that I care too much for my subjects to let time decide whether or not we survive as a species. I must ensure it myself.”

Luna places a passionate hoof at her own breastplate. “But sister Celestia, we can! Even without the serum! You and I, we harness the power of the stars! The constellations! With how much we have learned and how far our magics have advanced, we can drive any foreign threat away from our soil!”

Celestia glances at Luna briefly, letting a quiet breeze through them. Though Luna was strong with her words, this heavy silence causes her to shrink. “… There is… another reason why I am allowing this to happen.”

“Prithee tell, sister.”

With narrowed eyes and lined lips does Celestia organize her thoughts before speaking. “… I have… seen what he and his creations are capable of. As you said, we possess the power of the constellations… but Horis… his knowledge has led him to attain a magic far more… vile. Something we may not even have the words to describe. Unlike you, I witnessed his power in its final stages before he relinquished his soul into the Hourglass. I will tell you this and only this… I would rather keep amicable relations with the weapon which won ponykind the Great War.”

Luna’s pupils shrink quickly.

Celestia keeps her wary gaze on Luna, digesting the mortification that sits on her sister’s face. Becoming too much to bear, she returns her attention to her scroll. “… I hope this answers why Captain Winter is being forced to step down from her position, and why First Lieutenant Banter is taking her place. The rally held yesterday by the General should have detailed this to our subjects. The change has already been made.”

“… What is it that you hope for with all of this, Celestia?”

“… A future for our ponies.”

The air becomes still. Luna hangs her gaze on Celestia for a moment longer, until it falls melancholically to the pristine red bedsheets she sits upon. “… I am afraid of what will become of us.”

Celestia looks back to Luna again, now holding a frown. A depressive hang is pulled over her head when she sees Luna squinting at the sheets. In an attempt to comfort her sister, she continues speaking. “Be not afraid, sister. I assure you that ponykind will always be as so. This is… simply a step in our evolution. We will continue to grow, just as we always have. Our founding fathers would be proud of the advancements we’ve achieved and the technologies we’ve created. As we continue to grow, you and I will persist in keeping our ponies happy and within a stable economy. This will never change.”

Luna lifts her eyes to sister but for a second, before letting them fall again. “I see that your trust in Horis is absolute. I hope you understand that I am not so firm.”

“I know, Luna. You have every right to be concerned. I only ask that you keep an open mind. Horis has extended his courtesies already. He wishes to be a valuable part of society once again. I am certain you’ve heard that I am preparing festivities for him.”

“Yes, a party in the Royal Ballroom…”

“Indeed. You are not required to attend… but… I will reserve a seat at my side for you. Even if you do not show.”

Squinting at the bedsheets, Luna follows up with nothing further and remains silent.

The tense muteness radiating off her sister causes Celestia to sets down her writing utensils. She places the quill into the inkwell before turning around. Coming off the chair, she walks to the bed and lounges next to Luna. She opens her wing and takes her in, holding her closely.

With closed eyes they rest together for what seems like only seconds. Minutes pass, until Celestia finally coos, “Please rest now, Luna.” She retracts her wing from around her sister. “My throne calls me.”

Luna halfheartedly rises from the bed and steps down. She proceeds to the door of the room, stuffing down the storm building in her heart. She exits, leaving Celestia to prepare for her shift.

‎

‎

‎

~ The Appaloosan Mountains, the Hallowed Demesne ~<
April 12th, Wednesday, 11:57

‎

Thunder rumbles over the southern mountains. The downpour has yet to let up.

The front doors to the Hallowed Demesne Mansion are opened by the steel-clad watchponies outside. A mare is revealed in the doorframe, one with every feature shaded over by a heavy hooded cloak, dark green and black in coloration. Nothing but her dark purple muzzle pokes out of the front of the hood. She dons hefty saddlebags with an extra pouch on each side, looking to all be filled to the brim.

She marches out of the mansion and through the metal gates that surround the property, where a carriage awaits her with two pegasus stallions to pilot it. These stallions also wear garbs similar to the mare, albeit more taught on their bodies meant for flying.

She promptly boards through the side door, the carriage rocking left and right under her weight when she mounts and sits. Boarded and ready, the stallions begin to sprint along the firm dirt until they take to the skies. The lengthy trail from the south begins, bound for Canterlot.

‎

‎

‎

~ Equestria, the Skies Above ~<
April 12th, Wednesday, 11:57

‎

Over the course of his flight, Crimson had ascended above and emerged from the chillingly cold clouds in intervals. He gauges his surroundings and hides himself in this fixed pattern until he finds the grassy plains of midland Equestria turn to woodlands, and eventually the forest of the Everfree.

He emerges from the rumbling skies again to look down upon miles and miles of dense greenery, if one can call it all green. Being directly above the forest with the grey world light of the storm details hints of jaded blues and some purples. The Everfree looks as surreal and intimidating as ever.

He catches the river which was nearby the cabin and uses it to orient himself. He angles downwards like a missile with his ethereal wings stiffened inwards, quickly plummeting towards the guiding body of water. Before hitting the ground, he flaps his wings once against his descent with a wind-breaking boom, stopping him instantly. The whiplash does nothing to his body, as if it was designed to take it in stride.

Stopping a few meters away from the floor of the forest, he falls the rest of the distance through tree leaves and lands peacefully. The canopy of forestry above him blocks out the rain fairly well, leaving him to begin drying off.

He sighs lightly, letting his Arch features twinkle away into nothing. He glances around, looking over his shoulder a few times to analyze his surroundings. He then focuses on the river itself, seeing the direction the water flows. He recalls it flowing south, and further north is where the cabin should be – not far from the protruding earth that has the temple door.

He begins to crunch grass and dirt under his feet until he locates the cabin.

‎

~~<

‎

His resting expression lightens up when he catches a form outside of nature – something made of pressure treated wood in the form of rectangles and triangles. He is content to see he is on the correct side of the river, so he picks up the pace to jog over to the cabin in an attempt to avoid getting soaked again.

He ascends the small staircase at the front to reach the door. Standing before it, he halts for a moment to listen. He hears nothing from where he stands. He then puts his ear to the door. Still nothing. With some confidence, he takes the knob of the door and opens it.

He remains at the frame before entering, letting his eyes scan the insides. He cannot recall how the cabin was set before he and Dahlia left it vacant, but he does not suppose anything is out of the ordinary. He steps in and closes the door behind him.

Not spotting her in the living room or the kitchen, he begins searching for her in the few rooms in the hallway. The bedroom is empty, save for the dust bunnies that have made it theirs. The same goes for the bathroom and the storage room. He confirms the house is completely void of life.

Taking in a deep breath from his nose, he closes the door to the storage and returns to the living room. Finding that Dahlia is not here is discouraging, but he mentally notes that the cabin was largely undisturbed, if not completely untouched, during their absence. She may have not returned yet, so the possibility of her doing so is still plausible.

With some time to kill, he finds the stool he once sat on before and hunkers down. He crosses his arms on the island table and rests his head on them, letting his eyes come closed. He reaches into his own infinity – he can feel his soul stepping out of his body. The collar leaves him be, just as he had hoped. With nothing to stop him from setting foot into his Rift, his body loses consciousness as his soul shoots up into the far beyond.

…

His eyes break open. The weight of life’s mortal coils cease to weigh down on him.

While his eyes stare blankly forward into the forever expanding grey grassy hills, he remembers why he spent almost every night here instead of sleeping. Or failing to sleep. In this monochrome scape in between real and not, the tribulations which burden his body no longer exist. His spirit feels slightly more at ease.

He rises from sitting on the grass and cranes his head to the left, seeing that his recreated home still stands. While it is nice to see it again, it is not what he cares for. He walks towards it, comes up the stairs with quiet clacking of his boots upon the wooden porch, and opens the door.

It is quiet. There is no presence in the living room or kitchen. He does not feel life or warmth emanating from anywhere, like he normally would when she was close by. Even though he knows she is likely not here, he still takes it upon himself to check every room. And of course, he finds no one. The house is empty. Even the naturally occurring placidity the Rift creates is not enough to stave off his welling depression.

He stands alone in the middle of the living room, staring down at his boots. He lets his eyes close, and with a melancholic sigh, everything around begins to melt away…

… and his eyes come open again. He lifts his head from his crossed arms and stares idly forward at the sink of the cabin. He rests his elbows on the island table, placing his mouth against his clasped hands.

He hopes he does not have the same luck twice. He waits. He hopes she shows.

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Snowfall’s Quarter’s ~<
Earlier
April 12th, Wednesday, 6:04

‎

Morning arrives too soon. The rising sun punches through Snowfall’s windows without restraint. Her eyelids paint her vision red, the exact emotion she feels in this moment.

Her eyes creek open slowly and somewhat unsteadily, now staring at the smooth grey ceiling above her. She continues to lie there for a few minutes, mixed between musing recent events and wanting to go back to sleep.

Knock, knock, knock…

So much for either. She forces herself to swiftly rise and reach for the drawer of her nightstand, obtaining a comb to quickly get her blonde mane settled and look somewhat presentable. She then moves to answer the door.

On the other side, Polly the receptionist stands with something suspended in her magic. She gives a courteous bow of her head and follows it with, “Good morning, captain Winter.”

“Morning, miss Posie.”

“I’m sorry to bother you so early,” she apologies as she presents what she holds in her ethereal grasp. A letter embroidered with gold trimmings and a snow white ribbon to tie it together.

Snowfall’s left brow raises, knowing exactly where this letter comes from before she even opens it. She reaches to accept the letter with her wing. “Was there anything else sent?”

“Nothing else for the moment.”

She nods in appreciation. “Thank you, miss Posie.”

“Of course, captain.”

Snowfall retreats and closes the door as Polly returns downstairs to her desk. The snowy pegasus trots to her desk, feeling a pressure building in her head. She sits down with a heavy exhale, preparing herself for whatever politics lie within the scroll. She unravels the string with her teeth and lets the parchment splay itself out on her desk. Using her hooves to keep it unraveled, she reads…

“To the Captain of the Royal Guard, Snowfall Winter

This is to inform you that your presence is requested immediately upon receipt of this letter. Report to the Roundtable with due haste.

From yours truly,

The Consortium Board”

“Straight to the point,” she whispers through a sigh. With a lack of motivation, she rises from her chair and marches to the sink and mirror on the adjacent corner of the room to her bed. She takes up her morning routine quickly, then moving to one of the pony mannequins which wears her dress blues. She abducts her clothes from it and fits them onto herself, making herself presentable before giving her presence to her superiors.

‎

~~~<

‎

Not ten minutes later, Snowfall has made her way through the Castle and into the offices found on the highest floor. She passes by many decorated doors and high-esteem ponies wearing clothing just as formal as hers. The ponies not working behind desks or behind closed doors are socializing and meandering, some which spot her and give her respected greetings. She gives them quick acknowledgements in return.

She makes it to the farthest door of the offices, or more appropriately, double doors. They are already opened and held this way by their stoppers. She can see into the grand room inside which houses an immense oval-shaped table where many ponies already sit. She enters the room, feeling the ambient temperature raise significantly and the scents of many different expensive colognes and perfumes mix.

She sees that over twenty of Canterlot’s Consortium board members are already here, with only three seats still vacant. Many ponies of older age, with varying decorations on their suits and dresses that overtly detail their accomplishments, sit at the table.

The present members appear to include First Lieutenant Banter and Princess Celestia, who are found on the farthest left end of the table. Celestia sits on the end chair, while Banter sits off to her right. He is wearing dress blues of his own, looking very professional and spiffy.

The vacant seat to the princess’ left is where Snowfall decides to take her seat. She sets her rump down on the cushioned spinning chair, placing both hooves close at her chest atop the massive oak table. She first glances to Banter who sits across, and they share a firm nod. She then glances to Celestia, who in turn looks at her. They share a small smile but say nothing to each other. The rest of the board members whisper and mingle amongst each other.

A few minutes pass by with nothing happening, leaving the contemplative Celestia and Snowfall to their own thoughts. With a stern front, Banter silently glances around at the other board members.

It is not until a presence makes himself known, a certain stallion of light green, yellow, and grey coloration with a white lab coat. His presence draws everyone’s attention, his less than extravagant choice of clothes makes him stick out sorely. Snowfall especially glares at this stallion, knowing in the back of her mind who he truly works for.

He uses his lime green magic to shut the two doors behind him. Not two seconds into trotting in cockily, he calls aloud, “Good morning, everypony! Apologies for being tardy, there were some important matters to deal with prior. Let us get right into this!”

Camaraderie between the Consortium members ceases. Doctor Ivy finds an empty seat right in the middle, allowing him to be heard and visible to ponies all across the grand table.

“So!” he begins with a smile. “I am grateful to you all for attending this meeting on such short notice, but it’s for a reason I feel we all agree is urgent. I should not need to say this, but what we will be speaking of today does not leave this room. Confidentiality and the likes, yes? This information will remain internal for the mean time, and we will make sure it spreads appropriately when called for. I will be speaking on concepts some of you may not be familiar with.” He seems to give a hint to Snowfall and Banter, giving them both a raised brow glance. “Feel free to ask questions.” He then looks to everyone else, scanning them equally. “To a different end, there is no doubt in my mind that you all have heard of our recent situation already, but allow me to recant regardless.”

His smile fades into a seriousness. His lime colored eyes bounce between every single member sitting across the table, but leaves his eyes lingering on Celestia for much longer than anyone else. “Three days ago, we had an intrusion at Canterlot Castle. A human had somehow snuck past our nightguard and our passive defenses, infiltrating the Head Researcher’s room. The human’s intentions are unknown, but the resulting trespassing ended with the death of one of our Scribes, Magnifying Glass. It was later revealed that this human was actually using an ingeniously simple disguise – a magical hair dye used by industry professionals. This small tweak had somehow concealed his identity. As with tradition to any Dungeon inmate, he was placed with a strong dispel to stop any potential magic use. The dye was eliminated due to the dispel. It turns out that this human terrorist was none of than Crimson, or as many of you know him as, the angel.”

Gasps are heard among the chair members, with grimaces coming from Snowfall and Celestia.

“The angel?” a mare sitting across from Ivy inquires with atheism.

“Indeed,” he confirms with a nod. “Although we do not know why or how he was able to come as far as he did, you can all rest assured that his punishment was appropriate. He was shipped to the Hallowed Demesne to be executed, and by now, he should be dead. For those who may not know, that is the home and stronghold of our benefactors – the Black Horseshoes.”

No one but Banter seems surprised at this revelation. Snowfall feels a pang in her chest, but keeps her face stagnant and uninviting.

"This is unacceptable,” a stallion next to the mare who spoke up earlier declares. “How could this be allowed to happen? The Wards installed by the Horseshoes must be defective if a human was able to simply walk past them.”

“Who says they malfunctioned?” Another board member speaks up, a different stallion who is on the younger side. “This is the angel we’re talking about here. What if he is capable of illusionary magic?”

Eyes are now directed to Snowfall and Banter, questioning and squinting.

“Captain, First Lieutenant,” Doctor Ivy begins, “would either of you care to give your input on this matter? You two of all ponies worked alongside him.”

The two of the Elite share a glance, a silent acknowledgment between them chalks Snowfall up to speak for them. “We did,” she confirms. “His ‘magic’ was nothing like we ponies have, so it’s difficult to describe what he’s capable of. But I can confirm that he isn’t able to use invisibility or cloaking spells like some of the high mages can. His magic was mostly passive, giving him a defensive and offensive edge. Nothing illusionary.”

“Similar to an earth stallion, then?” a mare from the bunch speaks up.

“Something to that effect. He can conjure weapons, but that was the superlative of his abilities. There were many potentials for him to use illusionary magic during our missions, but he never did. We can conclude he is unable to.”

“And what if he could, but decided against revealing it?” Another stallion plugs in his input.

“You’ve read the after action reports, mister York. Do you think he’d let himself nearly get killed if he could use illusionary magic?”

The room goes silent for a moment, taking in the facts presented. It is not until a mare on the other end of the table voices her thoughts. “I do not understand why the angel would do this. He was a great asset to Canterlot.” This causes critical eyes from Ivy to be directed her way, which brings immediate fear into her heart. “But!” She starts again. “He cannot be forgiven for this! Back to what Holland said – is there any proof the wards malfunctioned? Security Detail says they are still fully operational and have had no interruptions even to this very morning.”

“This is what concerns me the most,” Ivy speaks up, letting his biting glare ease up. “And the fact that there is no trail left behind draws great concern. We have yet to find whether he was working alone or with others, but our search will be endless. And fear not, as we have the short and long-term solution to our security prowess issue. ‘We’ being your gracious benefactors.”

All eyes look at him with deepening concern.

Ivy lets his eyes skim across everyone again, if only to add effect. “What if I told you all that our Brains have found a way to increase overall effectiveness of our troops by five-hundred and eighty three percent.” Brows furrow. Eyes squint. “… Per unit.” Eyes break open. Mouths fall. “You heard me. Each individual troop will be almost six times stronger, faster, intelligent, and perceptive. Each troop will be invaluable - a capable defender worthy of protecting us. The Castle. Canterlot.” He lowers his chin, smiling widely. “Equestria, even. Nothing would slip past them. Not even the breath of a fly.”

Unsullied attention is maintained on the doctor as he pauses for dramatic effect yet again.

“The method to this incredible efficiency is through magical empowerment.” Confusion becomes obvious in everyone around. “Indeed, I’ll say it once more. Magical. Empowerment. The source formula of this magic was extracted directly from the Artifacts of Aramani, those which we all know were sought for and turned into the Family. The essence of these majestic artifacts have been reverse engineered, tempered, and developed into a serum that is introduced to the body via injection. I will be transparent with you all and say that this was developed in very short notice. Overnight, as a matter of fact. But the testing was rigorous, a full laboratory of the brightest minds in Equestria squeezed the scientific method for all that it was worth. It still may need various tweaks to truly perfect, but our Brains, with the help of a certain… figure of importance, are certain it is ready for its initial phase-in. A mark one, per say, yet still stable enough for live production. The sooner we can put this power where it truly matters, the safer Canterlot will be. And I cannot think of a better first volunteer than the very pony who is responsible for the completion of its set.” He lets his gaze drift slyly to Snowfall, and everyone follows it with high scrutiny.

Snowfall resists the urge to let her surprise paint her face, still managing to keep a lackadaisical look.

“As you all know,” Ivy continues, “the Captain of the Royal Guard is also the Commander of the Elite Squadron. A highly proficient team of only Canterlot’s best, in which First Lieutenant is also apart of.” He looks now to Banter, and so does everyone else. The pegasus stallion returns the stare back at all eyes with hesitance. He is relieved from the weight when Ivy looks again to Snowfall. “Through her and her team’s efforts, the relics not already in the possession of the Family were obtained and relinquished. It is through the Elite that we have this incredible opportunity, and I would like to take a moment to give them a round of applause.”

The sinister looks from all ponies around turn to smiles and confidence. Everyone claps their hooves together for the two dressed in fine blues. Banter accepts the ovation with a small smirk. Snowfall remains expressionless, silently thankful that the doctor did not bring up anything potentially damning.

“Captain Winter,” Ivy calls to her directly. “Would you accept this high honor of being the first to achieve magical perfection? Be the usher of a new era of greatness? To strengthen your mind, body, and will for the betterment of Equestria and its ponies?”

Snowfall stares back at him, not speaking up immediately. Instead, visions of a horrible massacre fly through her mind. A stallion of dark and menacing green, one so powerful that he ended dozens of lives without a second glance. All of that destruction, responsible due to the same magic that is now being offered to her. None of the other board members know this. Banter does not know this. She thinks that even Celestia might not know this. Everything she witnessed through the throw-projector plays in her mind. She feels her body heat escaping, causing her to nearly shiver.

“Captain Winter?” Ivy calls for her again.

Only then does she realize that she has been silent for an uncomfortable length of time. She snaps herself out of her trance – lines of stress visibly present themselves under her eyes. She steels her resolve before saying something that she might terribly regret. “… Apologies, doctor. I will not volunteer.”

Some gasps and wide eyes are shot her way. Even Banter and Celestia are quite shocked at the denial. Despite this, Ivy keeps a smile on his front.

“I understand there may be some hesitation,” Ivy soothes, “but cast away your doubts. You have only the brightest minds working on this project, and even at this stage, it is completely stable and suitable for consumption. We made sure of it. As a matter of fact, we project that this magical empowerment method will extend the average lifespan of all ponies by twenty-three years. Likely more. By the end of the financial quarter, the serum is projected to be perfected – and you will be administered this perfected serum as well.”

“I understand, doctor. I still want to decline.”

Only now does his smile wane. “Do you not trust in what I say, captain?”

“This is not a matter of trust. I believe you when you say this serum is stable. But I am not comfortable with the idea of an altering magic being introduced into my body.”

“Captain Winter,” Ivy calls very seriously, bringing tension to everyone around. “I would like to emphasize again that I understand your concerns. But it is very important that you of all ponies accept this honor. You are a highly prestigious figure in the Consortium’s army. I would go as far as to say the most important. The General is loved and respected by all, but his old age makes him unsuitable for the initial roll-out. This is why we ask you now. With a pony such as yourself at the head of this marvelous frontier, morale for all troops will be raised. They will see you, a pinnacle of leadership and health, and be more accepting of the serum as well. I know this is a lot to take in a once, but you will not only receive this honor, but will also be compensated appropriately by the Family.”

“Captain!” Banter calls, inviting the attention of Snowfall quickly. They lock eyes, where Banter’s looks bright and hopeful against Snowfall’s bland, gloomy stare. “Why are you turning this down? You’re one of the most badass—erh,” he stops himself, looking around at the others at the table. They do not seem offput by his language, so he clears his throat and continues. “— The most combat-ready ponies I’ve seen in my life. Your skills are pretty much unmatched! Now times that by five! You’ll be the top of the top!”

“Your enthusiasm is appreciated, First Lieutenant,” Ivy comments with a smile.

“Who wouldn’t be enthusiastic about this? Heck! Captain! With this stuff, you’d be able to beat Crimson no sweat! Remember that spar?”

“You only bring it up every other day, First Lieutenant,” Snowfall jabs.

Some chuckles and snickers come from around the table. Banter does not seem to mind the quip as he continues. “Well yeah! We can’t let some foreign threat come in and step all over us! Like he did!”

“What are you referring to, First Lieutenant?” Ivy inquires with interest.

“Huh?” Banter raises his brows at him.

“Mind filling me in on this ‘spar?’”

“Ah, yeah. Sure thing, doc. A few months ago, way before this whole mess, that damn human showed up to Canterlot with the Head Researcher.”

“The Head Researcher, you say?”

“Yeah, he was her pet or servant or something like that before he started working for the Guard.”

Ivy and Celestia briefly share a glance, with the princess seeming slightly more sheepish. “… Interesting. Please, continue.”

“Uuh… right. So that human thought he was better than us. To settle things inside our legal reach, we had a spar in the field. You might have guessed it, but he beat both me and Snowfall by a longshot. Back to back. Real freaking embarrassing. You’d better believe we got some serious shi—erh, flak. We got some flak from the troops after that. Big time.”

Ivy smirks snidely, looking to Snowfall again. “Better reason than any to accept the serum. Wouldn’t you agree, captain? Not only will you pioneer this quintessential step for ponykind, but you’d also prevent another grand embarrassment in front of your battalion.”

“I know this may not be the most appropriate time to mention this,” a regal voice begins, garnering everyone’s attention instantly. All eyes go to Celestia, who coos to Snowfall. “But even Crimson has first-hoof experience with the greatness of Doctor Ivy’s medical staff. If you are still skeptical on the legitimacy of the serum, then I want you to know, Snowfall, that the same medical professionals who saved Crimson after the catastrophe at Yakyakistan are the same ponies who created the serum.”

“Ah, yes,” Ivy recalls. “Two doctors were relocated from Detrot to assist with his surgeries. His odds of surviving his wounds without their operating tools and methods were in the negatives. Only through their tedious care was that waste of life able to return to the living world and cause turmoil.”

“What I am trying to say, captain,” Celestia starts again, trying to hide the hurt she feels from Ivy’s words, “is that the Horseshoes are responsible for many miracles. That was one of them. Their understanding of magic and medicine knows no rival. I firmly believe that this project is another miracle waiting to happen. I cannot stress enough that you will be in good hooves should you accept this honor.”

Silence overtakes the room. Undivided attention pins Snowfall as she contemplates. The pressure in her head worsens. The formation of a headache is bound. She blinks once, tightening her eyes harshly.

“Well, captain?” Ivy pushes. “What say you now? Would you still decline?”

She keeps her eyes tightly closed, trying to banish some of the pressure. She takes in a deep breath… and lets it out calmly, opening her eyes at the same time. She directs a lazy stare to the doctor. “… I decline.”

The room dives into silence. A dense quietness so thick it could be cut with a knife engulfs them. Frowns are found on many faces, but none deeper than that of Ivy’s. The doctor closes his eyes briefly, almost repeating the actions Snowfall did. He exhales, his eyes open again. They stare directly at Celestia. “Princess,” he starts without a hint of mercy. “Revoke her of her title.”

“What?” Snowfall questions in shock.

“Yes, doctor,” Celestia acknowledges. She receives dilated eyes from Snowfall.

“First Lieutenant,” Ivy calls for the stallion who has his mouth agape. Banter looks over to him with fear. “You’ve demonstrated far more loyalty and willingness to cooperate than she has. Would you, then, care to take her place? If you accept, effective immediately, you will be the new Captain of the Royal Guard, along with the slew of benefits and duties the position entitles. Snowfall will enter… retirement. Am I correct, princess?”

Celestia nods once. “Indeed. Her relief papers will be signed and issued by noon. Snowfall,” she looks again to the mare who now shows her emotions of mortification very apparently. “You will be compensated for your services, and your grandfathered retirement plan will stay the same.”

“Pr-Princess, I—”

“You have only more chance to accept,” Ivy interrupts Snowfall. “Yes. Or no.”

Snowfall gives her unbelieving glare to him, seeing absolutely no signs of remorse behind his unenthused lime-colored eyes.

“I…” Attention breaks away from Snowfall when Banter begins something meekly. Once he sees that he has everyone’s attention, he assembles his confidence to speak up. “I accept. I’ll take the serum in Snowfall’s place.”

Everyone is still shocked. The only one who changes expression is Ivy, who takes on a satisfied smile. “… Excellent. Thank you again for your loyalty, Banter. It will not go unrewarded.” He faces Celestia grimly. “Get Snowfall’s release papers ready.”

“Right away,” she replies quickly.

Too stumped to even speak, Snowfall directs her stare to Banter. Once he feels her eyes upon him, the stallion’s prideful smile drops. He dares not look back at her. He keeps staring at Ivy, who continues to speak.

Ivy’s words sound like incoherent ramblings to Snowfall. She registers nothing that is said as she gazes regretfully at Banter.

‎

‎

~ The Everfree Forest, Dahlia’s Cabin ~<
April 12th, Wednesday, 15:44

‎

The monotony has set in. He knows he should break it, though he feels he could remain here for hours more without moving an inch.

He cannot keep track of time now, but the storm has raged on and no one has arrived to the cabin. He is still alone, sitting with his chin rest on his knuckles. He figures enough time has passed and he should move on. He will have to come back at a later date and continue searching other locations in the mean time.

For now, his sights are set on getting groceries. He hopes it is as painless a process as he made Moonlight believe. He could not tell what the locals’ reaction to his presence would be, especially since he is no longer playing the fool. He sets his mind straight in preparation for what is to come. Rising from the stool, he treks to the door and exits the cabin, returning to the rain outside.

The world around him feels eerie. The precipitation is now accompanied by a fairly dense fog which obscures vision past a few meters. He keeps his orientation west.

Once in the brush, the twisting blue-green trees shield him from the storm. He vaguely remembers the path he and Dahlia took to get to Dodge, and even if it is not followed perfectly, he ensures to keep the same general direction. It is not long before the vegetation loses density and the far off forms of the town can be seen amidst the mist and fog.

He stops behind a tall bush, using it as cover to peek at the town. As expected from this much rain, none of the townsfolk can be seen roaming about. Hesitation prevents him from walking forward for a moment, but he rids himself of it with a deep inhale.

Leaping over the bush, he kicks into a jog to arrive sooner. The jingle of the coin purses argue against the water that pelts the ground. He hops over the tracks and enters the town’s borders.

At this distance, details become clearer. The buildings shift from being silhouettes to their actual forms. Only now does he see that there are in fact ponies outside – quite a few of them. Maybe six or seven. They are standing outside of the grocery shop. He slows his jog to a walk, analyzing these figures he cannot fully make out. They may have not noticed him yet, but he could not be sure.

Closer and closer, he notices that these ponies seem to be dressed roughly the same - raggedy in appearance. Nothing uniform, but very similar. They are made out to be stallions, every one of them. Their manes are wet and hang long beyond their chins and necks. They also have…

“… Weapons,” Crimson murmurs to himself, halting completely. Thinking that they have yet to notice him, he comes down to a low crouch and remains still. His eyes shift quickly between them – it looks like they are guarding the building. He begins to assume these fellows are not locals, nor are they looking to shop for goods.

His eyes shift downwards to the mud when a discoloration in it catches his attention. His forehead wrinkles at seeing what it is – traces of weakly spreading red liquid which comes from a trail up ahead. He follows the trail up, seeing that the blood is coming from a different shop not too far away.

SLISH!

Crimson hops quickly onto his feet and jumps backwards when a steel bolt nearly impales his left foot. He glares briefly at the rod stuck in the mud, then up to the ones who fired it. The hazy forms of these stallions are looking his way, one scolding another for missing the shot. Now every one of them is aiming something at him.

“Hrrrh!” He grumbles aloud as he raises his left arm. His golden shield manifests in front of him, just in time for six projectiles to ‘clack’ off of it. Each bolt bounces and lands on the mud in front of him.

He figured it would not have been a clean venture getting groceries, but he certainly did not expect this. Already impatient with the situation, he grits his teeth and balls his right hand into a fist. He begins sprinting at them with his shield raised.

He hears them screaming profanities at each other. They enter a panic and begin to scramble. The ones who can fly do so. The ones stuck to the ground begin to evacuate the store.

As they try to march out, Crimson reaches them. He sprints into the porch rails and breaks them without care. He swipes his shield from right to left, simultaneously bashing three stallions trying to march out back into the store, having them collide with their comrades already inside. All of them grunt and shout, breaking stands of produce, causing food and goods to scatter all around.

The aggressors move to recover, but the three who took the brunt of the shield-swipe are completely motionless.

Crimson bolts into the store after them, ignoring those who flew or fled outside for the mean time. His right fist comes open - the inside of the dimly lit shop shines with his golden power. He analyzes the scene before him in the split second that he brings his sword into reality.

The ponies attacking the town look too similar to the stallions he encountered some time ago: Wildmanes. Judging by the blood on their coats and ragged clothes, they have been busy.

There are other ponies around as well, much less scraggly and menacing. They are the unfortunate townsfolk who decided to take a shopping trip before the attack. They are all mortified, including a certain fat stallion that is cowering in a corner near the destroyed and emptied register. The store owner gives Crimson a very peculiar glare of horror, one that illustrates a spark of remembrance.

The sword is formed. Crimson grips it and swiftly brings it down for a wide swipe to gash and bash two Wildmanes who were almost done standing up. They are slammed back down onto the ground with gaping wounds, too discombobulated to even cry or scream.

Crimson directs his golden gaze to the other Wildmanes, who are ogling at him in fear as they attempt to scamper backwards and load their crossbows. Some of the Wildmanes who do not carry a crossbow are too intimidated to approach the angel with their blades.

The angel’s dance commences, leaping between the scattered Wildmanes around the shop to butcher them in a flurry of broad, graceful strokes. Blood, screams, and broken wood scatter in the produce store.

Outside, one earth and four pegasus Wildmanes with bags of stolen goods thrown over their shoulders hold their positions in the muddy streets. They listen to the chaos happening inside the store. They glance at each other, shake their heads, and decide to escape with their lives. The five flee with what they have pillaged. The earth stallion cries frantically at his flying comrades, begging them not to leave him behind.

Inside the store, a deathly quietness now invades. Corpses of the Wildmanes lie scattered amongst the destroyed isles and scattered food items.

Weapon and shield dispersed, Crimson stands with his hands balled into fists. His radiant eyes glare down at those he killed with spite. The bystanders who were not killed by the Wildmanes, with backs against the walls and corners, in turn watch him in abject terror.

The angel removes his angered gaze from the bodies and instead bounces it between the bystanders. They all look at him like some sort of monster.

Proceeding to ignore them, he turns about-face and steps out of the store briefly. He looks up the grey skies, seeing the remaining Wildmanes have escaped and are fading into the fog. He scowls at them for a second before returning to the store.

He sees a rack of flattened brown bags to the right of the entrance. He takes it upon himself to grab four of them. He begins to step around the store, slowly and methodically, picking up any fruits, veggies, grains, and other produce that was not destroyed off the ground. The eyes of the surviving townsfolk follow him as he helps himself. Even the fat store owner says nothing to his taking.

Once he has four mostly-filled bags of produce, he assumes this is more than enough for a week. He walks to the partially destroyed, blood-covered counter that still holds the broken and empty register. He sets his bags down on a part of the countertop that is not stained with blood. He then takes out the two coin purses from the pockets of the robe around his waist and sets them down next to the register.

He throws a brief glance to the store owner. The rotund stallion only glares back at him with a trembling lower lip.

Crimson takes his four bags of groceries closely against his chest again. He uses his left forearm to hold them and his right hand to clamp them all at the top so nothing falls out. He takes his silent leave. As he walks out of the store, the bystanders slowly rise to their hooves and try to regain their composure.

Standing on the porch of store, Crimson takes one more glance around the fogged town of Dodge. It looks and feels nothing like he remembers it. He blames it on the broken windows and wood of the shops around, the rain and blood on the dirt roads, and the bodies strewn about – Wildmane and innocent alike. Over a dozen corpses litter the streets, making him realize he arrived on the aftermath of the festivities.

He spots two peculiar corpses lying at the front of a shop where he obtained his first set of shitty clothes. Both bodies are slumped over with backs against the front of the shop, both tacked with several bolts. Something on their clothes twinkles among the gloom, placed upon their vests. Star-shaped badges. The sheriff and the deputy.

Crimson looks up at the sky. His wings and halo manifest in a golden conflagration across his body. When they do, sharp inhalations come from the inside of the shop. He looks back one last time, seeing that the surviving ponies are now standing and watching him from inside.

He looks forward again, affirms his hold on his groceries, crouches down, and darts into the air with a powerful flap of his wings.

He soars high into the sky, punching the clouds and disappearing behind them. Many townsfolk remain watching the spot in the cloud he punctured through for quite some time.

‎

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, Hidden Horseshoe Enclosure ~<
Earlier
April 12th, Wednesday, 13:57

‎ ‎

Dahlia’s inner thoughts race with everything she absorbed from her attendance of the Stadium’s rally. She theorizes and wonders, all while organizing her saddlebags.

As she gets her and Crimson’s items together in her bags, she notices that the thick manila folders which contain the fruits of her and his labor. She knows he would be pissed if he heard her say this, but she firmly believes these stupid papers were not worth their hardship, and inevitably, their separation.

She figures she might make herself useful and skim through now, then read through them thoroughly during her train ride. She hopes to take in their knowledge before she finds Crimson so she may divulge what their work amounted to once she finds him…

… if she ever does.

Now that the warmth and compassion that Strix provided is gone, the depression is setting in fast. She has no time to waste. She retrieves the folders and sets them out on the bed, picking off the group of stapled papers and giving them a disgusted glance. This same disgust soon churns into confusion. Then, frustration.

“What the fuck…?” she utters quietly to herself. “… What is this shit?”

She scans the words, or whatever these symbols are. It looks totally alien. It looks not like Ponish, Gryphic, or any other written language she knows. This text is all completely foreign to her.

A metaphorical steel ball sticks itself in her throat. Seeing this, these incomprehensible scribbles, fills her body with so much rage and sadness she could cry to the heavens right now. All of their work amounted to gibberish she does not understand, and Crimson will never know the reason for why he got himself incarcerated. The mystery he is trying so desperately to solve will remain just that. A mystery.

She cannot bear being in this forsaken bunker any longer, lest she succumbs to the urge to hurt herself, or even worse, find and pester Strix for further comfort. She slides the papers back into the folders and packs them into her bags reluctantly, wondering if it is even still worth it.

She then proceeds to pack Crimson’s unwillingly abandoned clothing. Though a little difficult, she manages to stuff his shirt and pants into her bags. Without any more space to stash anything else, she decides to wear his duster. She ravels and folds it so it does not hang off her body and drag on the ground. She uses his belt to sling his boots around her back, hold them tight against her body and keep the duster from unravelling. Feeling slightly encumbered, she takes a moment to examine herself. She feels ridiculous wearing such an oversized garb, but… it makes her heart race wearing his clothes. She lines her lips and quickly realizes she is fawning too much over him… but she cannot stop herself. The feelings filling her mind and spirit are so automatic that she is completely unable to control them, even if she wanted to.

She could not admit it to anyone, especially not him, but she actually does not want to control these emotions. These same sentiments are what got her out of bed, and they will carry her while she looks for him to the ends of Equestria. Maybe soon they will fade and she will give up, but that is something for her to contemplate later.

She moves to flip on her saddlebags. Ensuring the documents acquired from Kleid are in order, and there is at least some food for her to eat while traveling, she gets said bags over her lower back. The bags become neighbors with Crimson’s boots. She extends her wings, ensuring they have enough room to flap comfortably. The base of her wings push against the duster than runs across her back, but does not disrupt her motion. She deems it good enough.

With nothing else stopping her, she moves to exfiltrate and sneak away from the bunker for the second time today. Flying up to the slab of stone which blocks the room off, she heaves and puffs a breath to lift it off and exit.

To her fortune, the vast majority of Canterlot’s citizens are still parlaying around the Stadium. This leaves the Gardens desolate from the dozens which usually populate it.

Although a little clunky due to the items and weight she now bares, she hops out and begins her flightpath towards the Canterlot tram station.

‎

~~<

‎

Within the hour, Dalhia acquired a complimentary ‘event ticket’ for the first departing train headed south. The train had taken its leave with a cart full of ponies, including her.

She is grateful that no one is sitting next to her, as the other ponies in the cart are keeping to their own parties. Head rested on the window, she watches the foggy, barely visible passing scenes of Equestria through the window of the train cart. The further south she travels, the harder the rain showers have ramped up.

The anxious pegasus finds herself mildly comforted by the white noise of the weather hitting the train itself. The trip from Canterlot to Dodge has taken several hours, and her patience is forced. Still, with every passing minute, she is closer to her destination.

The train rumbles. Her body gently rocks. If it was not for the gnawing pit in her stomach, she would be finding this ride very peaceful.

Enough idle watching of Equestria’s landscapes puts her near her destination. Now, as the train approaches the upcoming station, she lifts her head from the window and sits up straight. The screeching wheels upon the track signals their stop. An attendant mare comes into their cart, posting herself at the door. Once fully halted, she gives some polite parting words and opens the door for anyone who is looking to leave. The only pony who does is Dahlia.

The tan pegasus comes off her seat and moves to exit, giving a quick nod to the attendant who smiles in return. Once she steps out, the attendant calls one last time for exits. Despite a cart full of posh, well-dressed ponies, but none else take up her offer. She then closes the door behind Dahlia.

Feeling the chill of the afternoon air, she silently appreciates the dark duster for keeping her body warm. She waits a moment before moving off of the station platform. She watches the train depart, and once it does, she moves for the stairs.

Her hooves squish mud. She did not anticipate rain, especially since Canterlot was clear skies. She kicks into a brisk trot, taking a quick glance to her right towards Dodge. She then halts.

She squints her eyes, seeing practically the entire town surrounding the grocery store and nowhere else. She also takes a moment to digest what she is seeing – a mound of something in the middle of town. She then witnesses two ponies taking another ‘something’ out of the store. She gasps lightly.

“A body?” she whispers under her breath. She continues watching, and the more she does, the further her suspicions are confirmed. She assumes that the town was raided recently, and judging from the size of the body mound, it was more than just messy.

Not wanting to think the worst, nor wanting to be in the rain for much longer, she turns and hops over the train tracks. She ventures into the Everfree, following the trail towards the cabin which she knows well.

In about half an hour does she reach the cabin. She ascends the staircase, cleaning her hooves on the porch and shaking some of the rain off. She opens the door with her wing and trots in, closing the door behind her.

She looks around the still, lifeless cabin. She finds that she cannot quite recall what the status of it was before she and Crimson left the first time, but it looks completely untouched. She explores it, room by room, to find nothing interesting or notable.

Defeated, she returns to the living room, ears fallen to her head. She sighs out some sadness and hunkers down on the largest couch in the living room. She sits in silence for several minutes, letting her mind wander.

One of these wayward thoughts strike an idea, one that gives her some sort of hope. She reaches into her saddlebags, acquiring a pencil and a small square sheet of tan paper.

She comes off the couch and sits on the ground before the coffee table. Paper on the table and pencil in her hoof, she begins to write…

‎

‎

‎

~ Equestria, Moonlight’s Home ~<
April 12th, Wednesday, 16:42

‎

Moonlight’s tongue sticks out slightly from between her teeth as she scrubs vigorously. Her magic handles a rough-bristle brush lathered in bleach and soap, using it to remove the dried blood from the inside of the bathtub. A bit of sweat beads from her forehead. She tirelessly rubs until every centimeter of the tub is crystal clean.

She has already dusted, organized, and cleaned every other room in the house, along with bagging all of the spoiled food from the pantry and fridge. The task of cleaning the fridge and scrubbing it down was tiresome by itself, and the tub is proving just as strenuous. Not that she minds it. In fact, all of this cleaning has completely taken her mind off of anything and everything.

She sighs lightly, levitating the brush into a plastic water bucket next to her. She wipes her forehead and examines her work, feeling quite satisfied with it. She uses her magic again to move the bucket safely into a corner of the bathroom so she can dump it later. In the mean time, she turns to face the bathroom mirror.

She examines herself, turning her face left and right. Something about her does not feel quite right. She pouts her lower lip in thought, wondering what it could be.

Only a few seconds later, she realizes what it is. Her horn glows with her pink essence as it takes ahold of her sharp locks of her hair at the sides of her face. She begins to twirl and tie them. Once finished, she examines herself the same way as before.

She smiles happily at herself. At least, until something batting heavy wind in the backyard scares her. Her coat raises like a startled cat as she throws her attention to the bathroom window which looks outside. She trots closer to it, peeking over trepidly. What she sees makes her heart flutter. The angel had descended and landed in her backyard, now standing up from a crouched positioned before walking towards the sliding door.

The ecstatic unicorn retrieves a towel from the rack next to the shower then trots out of the bathroom, running downstairs to meet him. She catches him opening the sliding door when she arrives at the living room. He stands at the threshold but does not enter yet.

“You’re back!” she calls happily.

“Well before schedule, too,” Crimson replies with a slight smile. He puffs out his chest to emphasize the bags held against them.

Moonlight gasps excitedly. “You did it! You got groceries!”

“Said I would, didn’t I?”

“Yh-You did,” she submits with the flopping of her ears, but still smiling from joy. “Thank you, love.” Crimson nods at her, his smile growing a little wider. He offers the bags to her, which she takes with her magic. They drip only slightly from the rain, though she still handles them quickly so they do not wet the carpet. She then levitates the towel to him. He takes it thankfully and dries himself off before setting foot inside the living room.

As he enters and shuts the door, Moonlight trots to the kitchen to organize everything. She glances at the clock. Four forty-five. Indeed well before his scheduled return time. Something about this wells her with guilt, feeling as if she was a bit too harsh with him and now he is taking his promise to her a bit too seriously. Not that she dislikes this fact as a whole – she wants him around every possibly second, but something inside her still feels some form of blame. She swallows a lump in her throat before speaking up. “Y-You still had a few hours left before you needed to come back.”

The man wraps the towel around his head, leaving just his nose and mouth visible. He walks onto the tile of the kitchen and idles on it, trying to keep his wetness off the carpet. “Yeah. Hope you don’t mind.”

“N-Not at all, I’m happy you’re back early.”

“You got that tone in yer voice. Somethin’ the matter?”

“Um… n… no?” Silence comes from the man, prompting her to stop organizing and look back at him. Even though she cannot see his eyes from under the towel, she feels very oppressed by his hidden gaze. She caves in quickly and looks forward again. “I-I mean… yes. I feel-- … mh, I feel like it’s my fault you came back early.”

“Darlin’, I promised you I’d be back ‘before’ sundown. Not at. Please don’t fret.” She takes in a breath to soak in his words. His encouragement along with organizing the groceries into the fridge and cupboards makes her feel much more at peace. “House looks ‘n smells incredible, by the way. Good thing cleanin’ products got one hell’uva shelf-life. You did an awesome job in a short time.”

“Thank you. It felt nice sprucing everything up again.”

“You got a place to dump those?” he points to the three filled black trash bags lined next to the pantry door.

“I do. The dirt road to Baltimare. The city limits have community disposals.”

“Ah,” he simply emits.

Moonlight smiles and turns to him again, knowing his intention by just the sound of his defeat. “Thank you, love, but I’ll throw them away. I don’t want to risk anything with... you know.”

“Yeah. ‘M sorry I can’t be more useful.”

“N-Nonsense! You brought us groceries! That was very dangerous by itself, but very thoughtful. I’m happy nothing happened to you while you were out. How was Dodge anyway? It’s been some time since I’ve visited.”

The ensuing silence brings no confidence in her. Again, she stops organizing and looks back to him.

Crimson reaches to take the towel off of his head, instead draping it across his neck and shoulders. “… I won’t lie to you ‘n say it was pretty, but I beg that you don’t lose yer composure when I tell you this.”

She shakes her head quickly. “W-Whatever it was, you’re here with me again. And you’re not hurt. That’s all that matters to me.”

He nods and smiles weakly at her supportive attitude. “Well… Dodge was attacked. By Wildmanes.”

“Oh my goodness!”

“Yeah. They did a number on the town. Killed both the sheriff and the deputy, but I think a good chunk of the townsfolk survived. Walked in durin’ the pillagin’ part of the raid.”

“You didn’t hide?”

“Couldn’t. Before I knew what I was up against, they were already shootin’ crossbows my way. Least it wasn’t a gun this time, right?”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad it wasn’t. … Did… did you k-… kill them?”

“The ones I could get my hands on, at least. Maybe a dozen of ‘em total. Was able to take down seven. Rest scrammed.”

She glazes her eyes across his form up and down several times. She notes that there is no sign that he was even in a fight, let alone a killing. “… I’m glad. I’m glad you ended the lives of those terrible ponies. And you took care of yourself.”

His knees almost buckle from surprise. “It-- … Huh.” His simper becomes completely genuine. “… Heh, well, I’m glad that you’re glad.” She nods twice, returning the smile. Seeing that she has organized everything already, he allows his impulse to take over. He steps to her and crouches down, unable to hold himself back from giving her a kiss.

His lips meet hers, and she melds in effortlessly. Learning from their initial experience, she tilts her head opposite of his direction. Their loving contact suctions lightly, sounding it off into the still kitchen. Crimson reaches his hand to her mane, feeling its silky self invade the space between his fingers. Moonlight’s breathing increases in pace a few seconds into their exchange.

"Hah~” the blushy Moonlight moans during an exhale when they come apart. Her eyes open halfway, gazing at him as he stand to his full height.

“Yer gettin’ better quick.”

“A-Am I?” she stutters amidts a forming haze in her mind.

“You’ll be teachin’ me a few things pretty soon.”

She giggles, feeling her insides becoming warm at his complimenting. The two of them make eye contact, a comfortable silence breezes through them as they do. She admires his face. His red hair. The shape of his nose and eyes. Every detail she can soak in past her glasses.

Crimson mirrors her, absorbing every portion of her precious face, how her spectacles gleam and her eyes glitter behind them.

They could not be sure how long they spend simply staring at each other. Their united trance is interrupted only when one of the trash bags behind Crimson tilts and falls on its side, startling the both of them.

Moonlight adjusts her glasses and inhales brokenly. “U-Uhm… I… I should take out the trash. N-Now. Before it gets too dark.”

Crimson nods in agreement, his cheeks warmer than usual. “Again, I wish I could do it for you.”

“It’s okay, love, really.” She trots to the hall and obtains a robe from the same drawer she did for him. She throws it over her head and wiggles her body so it sits comfortably. She dons the hood over her head using her magic and returns to the kitchen. The three bags float into the air when her pink essence takes ahold of them.

“How long’s the walk?”

“It’s about a mile away and a half away. It’s not terribly far.”

“Mm,” Crimson acknowledges. While he wishes it was a shorter walk, the distance is reminiscent of what he would have to walk to fetch water or throw trash back at Earth. He feels he could not complain even if he wanted to. “I’ll miss you while yer gone.” He says this mostly facetiously, but he knows that it holds truth.

Moonlight giggles again. “I’ll miss you too~ I’ll be back in a jiffy, okay?”

“Right. Come back quicker if somethin’ troubles you.”

“I will.” She turns and trots with the bags in tow, heading for the front door. Crimson watches her take off, up until she disappears into the hall. He hears the door come open – the sound of the storm raises in volume, then quiets down again once the door closes.

Left to his lonesome for a while, he ponders several things at once. He thinks where next to look for Dahlia, whether or not he should shower… and whether or not to maybe surprise Moonlight with something nice. He cannot think of something at the moment, but he marks it certain that once he does, he will do all that he can to find or make that thing.

Something he realizes is that they have yet to actually say with words that they are a couple now. This sort of just happened. He senses that this will not feel totally right until the golden words lock it in… yet, he feels he already knows why the subject has been skirted.

He stands in the kitchen doing nothing for far too long. Once he notices this, he shakes his head to snap himself out of his stillness. He supposes he should shower. He has been putting it off for a while now. Along with this decision, the next location he should search for her comes to mind. A place far west found under a dense, heavy smog.

‎

‎

~ The Everfree Forest, Dahlia’s Cabin ~<
April 12th, Wednesday, 17:27

‎

She nibbles at her feathers, occasionally removing one that is old or damaged. Dahlia has been entertaining herself by pruning her wings, but fears that she might be finished pretty soon. Once they are clipped and cleaned, she will have nothing else to do.

She begins to think what she should do next, both in terms of holding onto her sanity, and where to look for Crimson. She thinks where he could have gone. The mountains where the Doyens reside are in the far south of Equestria, so maybe he has not reached the midland yet. He may still be somewhere south. She ponders where south. There are a few places she could check, but she tries to objectively rule them out since Black Horseshoes are of high density in that region.

He could not be at Salt Lick, she feels. That would be a death sentence. Really, any location in that region would be. She lets out an agitated breath. Maybe he is not south after all. He is certainly not in the midlands, or else she might have seen him or a commotion he caused during the train ride. That, or he is hiding in some cave or a hole in the wall she could never find him in. But she finds that thought ridiculous. He would not shut himself in some place he could not be found, lest they never find each other ever again. She thinks back to what he said, the words she keeps close to heart.

“Nothin’ would stop me from comin’ back to you.”

Only now does she think deep on these words. Nothing would stop him from going back to her. Him… coming back… to me. Her brows line above her eyes.

Now she feels like she may have been taking the wrong approach. Maybe she should not go looking for him, but instead the other way around. That is what he said, after all.

She stops chewing at her wings, feeling satisfied with their current health. She now thinks where she should remain in order for him to find him the easiest. She immediately thinks about going back to Canterlot and waiting in the bunker, taking his words literally. But the more she entertains that idea, the dumber it seems. She makes an educated guess that he will likely be searching other places they know, are relatively safe, and have been to together. Not dive head-first back into the jaws of the enemy.

With this spur in her head, she contemplates her odds of success if she simply waits here in the cabin. But the idea sours quickly, as there is chaos happening not two miles off. Dodge was attacked by something, and the Consortium will likely send relief efforts and support for them to rebuild. They might secure the surrounding areas and keep a patrol going for some time. She knows she cannot stay here for long. “But if I can’t stay here, where else?”

Her eyes shift small distances in contemplation. The quiet, cold air of the cabin accompanied by the rain pelting the roof outside gives her passing chills. As they run across her back and haunches, they are suddenly banished by the warmth of a good idea. Her eyes expand and a small smile of hope puts itself on her lips. She knows exactly where to go – a place where it all began… or rather, resumed.

She thinks about the trip, how long it would take and how she might manage to the Slums. She definitely does not want to travel that way by hoof or flight, especially with the unrelenting storm pouring down on the world. She thinks she could take the train west, but that would mean she needs to wait until next morning. She also would need bits to actually buy the ticket, which she does not have.

And just then, it hits her like a brick. She does not have any physical currency on her. The work she did for the Horseshoes was all sent to her treasury – the same treasury she has not had time to pull funds out of. Due to the city-wide event at Canterlot giving her a complimentary ticket, she bothered not to consider this. “Idiot,” she scolds herself quietly. She curses herself further in her head, berating the fact that her thousands upon thousands of bits in her treasury are great, but the ticket clerk at the station can do very little with a treasury account number.

She shifts in agitation, trying to calm herself down to think rationally again. As she adjusts herself on the couch, the weight of everything she wears shifts left and right. Her heavy bags, Crimson’s boots and duster, and the clinking from inside the duster…

… the clinking from inside the duster.

She looks down at it, knowing that the pistol and the ammo boxes are seated inside the inner pockets, but something else has been jingling in an alluring way. She gasps, remembering that she is indeed incorrect. She indeed has money on her – Crimson’s money. The bag of coins he obtained for helping that crew out during the human show. She grabs the duster tail and brings it towards her. She then fishes through the left outer pocket, and there it is. A small brown coin purse tied with white string. Definitely more than enough for one ticket. “Yes!” she celebrates, hugging the coin purse close to her chest with both hooves.

She pockets it after her cheer, feeling much better about the situation. She looks at the note she was going to leave for him, the one rested on the coffee table in front of her. She reaches with her wing, her tongue sticking from her lips. She extends her little body so she does not have to get off the couch. She manages to grab it and bring it in without falling over. She looks it over briefly before pocketing it.

Her cheeks a little warmer at rereading the note. She is not sure if she is cringing at her own articulation and word choice, or about the idea in general. She starts to think hypercritically about writing such a thing to him, while simultaneously digesting the fact that the man is not even capable of reading Ponish. This letter would have been left here, and in the event he did somehow find it, he would have no idea what it even says.

She wants to bash her face with her hooves, but she stops herself. If she would let herself do it, she would make sure to break her own muzzle. She sighs angrily, feeling her emotions hodgepodge around into something she does not understand.

That is untruthful, she thinks. She knows what she is feeling and she hates it. Her entire mindset and heart are being ruined by this aggressive infatuation she finds herself having. She cannot get rid of these feelings. And the more she thinks on it, she does not want to - like an urge she wants to tame, an itch she wants to scratch. She wants this now. A forbidden treasure being kept away from her.

She attempts to suppress her excitement, her anger, her sadness, her congealed smorgasbord of emotions. She contains it all for now to get some rest and eat some of her provisions. She will need to be up early tomorrow to catch the morning train headed west.

‎

‎

“Please…”

For You and Me

“I’m sorry…”

‎

‎

~ Equestria, Moonlight’s Home ~<
April 13th, Thursday, 6:53

‎

The following morning does little to tame the rain. Seemingly endless tears pour upon Equestria without relenting – the white noise it produces provides a comfortable background while Moonlight and Crimson sit together in the living room and eat breakfast.

They are silent and thoughtful, but still enjoy the warmth of each other’s company. They eat seasoned eggs and greens, a simple plate put together by Moonlight before the man’s next venture out.

Amidst their silent eating, a question Moonlight has been incubating reaches the top of her mind. She chews what is in her mouth and swallows it before looking over to Crimson. “Where did you plan on looking for her today?”

“The only other place I figure she might be. M’sure you’ve heard of it. It’s far west, near Las Pegasus.”

“That is very far west,” she comments with hesitation. “What is this place called?”

“The Slums.”

She lines her brows in thought. “Would that be the ghetto south of the city?”

“The very one.”

“I see. Mm. I’ve never heard it be called that.”

“Strange. That’s all I’ve ever heard it be called. It got another name?”

“It does. It was once called Antha, but after the Great War, it became the Old Antha Ruins. That’s what most scholastic or formal works still call it. I want to say I’m surprised you’ve been there, but… I feel like you’ve been everywhere at this point.”

“Sure feels like it. Been far north, south, east, ‘n west. A little bit of everywhere. Been a witness to matters I can barely wrap my head around. Seen so much, but it feels like so little. Still a lotta land out there I haven’t met.”

“Equestria is a vast and frightening place. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked into what the rest of the world was doing. Do you… do you think maybe, one of these days, you can tell me about the things you did? The things you saw?”

“I, uh…” he gently taps his plate with his fork, stopping himself briefly, “… I suppose I could. Fair warning that a lot of it ain’t pretty.”

“I had a feeling it wasn’t… but I’d still love to hear it, the things you went through while here. Sometimes I forget you’re not from Equestria, so hearing about how you dealt with everything around you is… it’s interesting to me.”

Crimson catches the adorable, unmistakable reddening of her cheeks. He smiles and looks back down at his plate. “… If it means that much to you, then I sure will. Maybe somethin’ I know is useful fer you and your knowledge.” He reaffirms his hold on his fork and stabs the last few greens on his plate, eating them to finish off breakfast. He then reaches for the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice Moonlight made for him and chugs the remainder. He rises onto his feet when finished.

“Oh, um…” He stops and looks back at the mare who indirectly calls for his attention. “I-I’ll take your plate.” Her horn begins to glow, the plate in his hand follows suit. He lets go of it, half expecting it to fall and shatter on the carpet, but it instead floats in her pink hold.

“Thank you, darlin’.”

“You’re welcome, love. Are you going to go look for her now?”

“Yeah, the earlier the better. The trip’s further out, but I’ll still be back by sundown.”

She nods encouragingly, giving him a small smile. She levitates their dishes to the sink and sets them down. She then rises from the couch, looking back at him hopefully. Already reading her mind, the man reaches down and picks her up like a bride. Their faces are close enough for their breathing to be felt. The timid unicorn gives him half-lidded eyes of desire. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, darlin’.” He reaches in to give her a loving kiss, which she reciprocates enthusiastically. They break apart sooner than desired. “I’ll be back before you know it. There anythin’ you might want or need while I’m out?”

She ponders his offer for a moment, her eyes looking up at the ceiling. She simpers suddenly and looks back at him. “I want you to think about me while you’re out there.”

“Hmh, I can definitely do that. Be harder to ask me not to~”

She giggles, her blush growing brighter. “You always know what to say.” The man’s lips curl in response. “Please be safe, love.”

He nods once. “You do the same fer me. Please try to keep busy.”

“I will. I-I actually… am going to be making something. Something to help us. It’ll be a surprise.”

“Look at’chu,” he says before leaning in to rub the tip of his nose against hers. “You’re already ahead of the play. Be lookin’ forward to whatever you’ve got cookin’.”

Moonlight closes her eyes and puckers her lips again, almost begging. He does not keep her for long as he dives in to give her one more kiss. He feels her little body shiver when their lips meet. Her coat stands, a rush of dopamine washes over her. Her feelings rub off on him as well, as if a delicate fingernail was gently gliding across his skin.

The kiss breaks reluctantly, then followed by ogling eyes. It takes both of them a moment of staring at each other to be satisfied and finally let go. Crimson sets her back down, both she and him feel the coldness of being apart immediately.

“I’ll be back soon,” he assures once more as he backpedals to the sliding door.

She nods three times quickly, trying to stave off the melancholy the same way she did yesterday. She watches Crimson open the door and step into the storm, quickly becoming wet. He closes it, steps back, and gives Moonlight one more smile. She returns it with just as much heart.

Then her chest flutters, bearing witness to his angelic features burn into reality around him. She feels her whole body quiver, especially something intimate. The angel crouches, bolts into the air, and disappears from sight.

After a few seconds of him being gone does she finally release the breath she did not know she was holding in. She huffs and gets her wind back. She feels embarrassed at herself for such a reaction. She snaps herself back to her surroundings with two harsh blinks. Then, with a self-scolding mindset, she moves herself and the deep blush upon her face upstairs to her room.

‎

‎

~ Equestria, Dodge Junction ~<
April 13th, Thursday, 6:51

‎

“That’ll be twelve bits.”

Dahlia nods to the ticket pony who addresses her before looking down at her duster, ignoring the distrustful look of the aforementioned stallion. He bounces his eyes across her bulging saddle bags, the oversized coat, and the boots upon her back as he waits for her to retrieve enough money for her ticket.

Content to be out of the rain, Dahlia retrieves the coin pouch with only mild haste. She unties it, sets it down on the counter, and tips it over, letting some coins spill out. She separates by hoof the amount she needs and slides them through the window slot. Once the payment comes his way, the ticket pony reaches under his desk and pops back up with a yellow ticket. He slides it to Dahlia in return.

“The train’ll be here in about forty minutes, missy,” he states without a shift in tone. “Feel free to take a seat anywhere you like.”

“Thanks,” she acknowledges and does as he recommends. She finds a bench on the opposite end of the staircase, near the end of the platform and mostly away from the ticket booth. She hunkers down with a quiet exhale through her nose. Her half-lidded eyes stick forward, idly watching as the rain comes down upon the dirt and the railroad track.

As much as she tries to relax and keep her mind busy, she can feel the stress actively forming in her back muscles. Tension tightens her chest and jaw. The more time that passes with him gone, the worse she feels.

She saw him escape Horis’ clutches. She saw him very much alive at that moment even if the strike he endured was devastating. Still, she cannot shake the feeling that he is not okay. Far from okay. Suffering, even. There is no telling what his condition is at this moment, and this fact alone is chipping away at her mental integrity.

In an anxiety-fueled panic, she begins to totally rethink her strategy. If he is possibly hurt or dying, sitting in one place will do nothing for everyone. He could need her help, and she was about ready to just sit in one place and wait. She scolds herself for her own stupidity. Her spirit sinks further and further the more complicated and hopeless it all feels. He could be dead for all she knows--

“Ma’am, are you feelin’ well?”

Dahlia jumps lightly, snapping her head to the right. She spots an older stallion sitting two benches away, who she hardly realized had arrived due to her mental purgatory. This elderly stallion is accompanied by a young filly, possibly four or five years of age. She sits in between the legs of her apparent caretaker. Both of them give Dahlia eyes of concern.

A silence muted by the rain runs between them as Dahlia musters up the courage to reply. “… I’m fine, thanks.”

“You look familiar. You from around these parts?”

She shakes her head.

“Mm. Passin’ by?”

She nods.

“Where’re you headed? ‘F you don’t mind my askin’.” Dahlia visibly hesitates to respond. The stallion smiles despondently and continues speaking in order to ease her tension. “Wherever it is, I’m hopin’ you get there safe. ‘M sure you saw that mess back there. Poor ol’ Dodge got raided again. Not sure she’ll ever catch a break.”

Dahlia nods twice, letting him silently know that she is listening.

“… Them Wildmanes were mean. Meaner than they’ve ever been. Good weapons. Good equipment. Not sure where they get it from. Never given us this much trouble before. Lost a lotta good ponies. … ‘F you ask me, didn’t think we’d make it. Only two stallions with any semblance of combat experience got put down early on – the sheriff ‘n the deputy. Everypony else just bent over to Wildmane whim. Folks weren’t so spineless back in my day.”

Dahlia lifts her gaze to him and the little foal he has with him. She and the little one make eye contact for a moment. Dahlia then addresses the elder, “… Was she…?”

He gently strokes the little foal’s orange mane, nodding slowly. “She was. Takin’ her to her auntie’s up near Detrot.”

“… I’m sorry to hear that.”

The older stallion simply nods again. The little foal says nothing, perhaps still too shell-shocked to even speak. The foal does not cry. Only remnants that she was remain on her tinted cheeks and muzzle.

“It was bad,” the stallion continues, “but… could’a been much worse. Got a lucky break. Just when we thought we were food fer the vultures, an angel came outta the mist to save our sorry hides.”

Dahlia’s heart nearly leaps out of her chest. She snaps her dilated eyes to him again, garnering furrowed brows from the stallion.

“Somethin’ the matter, ma’am?”

“You said… an… ‘angel’ helped you?”

“Sure did. Looked like a human. Tall ‘n sturdy, built like an oak. Eyes rich like gold. I was in the general grocer, holdin’ onto my life as close as I could. Nearly keeled over right then ‘n there. Before my weak ol’ heart could give into the stress, somethin’ scared the Wildmanes just as bad as I was. ‘Fore I knew it, that angel was clearin’ the shop of the bad ponies. Think the others scrammed. No signs of ‘em since. Probably too frightened fer a round two. Heck, I’d be too if that’s what I was up against. One might say them Wildmanes were smitten by the wrath of the gods themselves.”

“W-When was this? The raid, I mean.”

“Yesterday, in the early morn’.”

Dahlia’s mental gears churn on overtime. She almost vibrates in her seat, but calm herself down as to not raise suspicion. “That’s… good news. At least. Uh… d-do you know where he went? The angel?”

“Mm. Somewhere east, from what it looked like. Couldn’t be too sure. Was like a ghost. Came ‘n went. Not a word was spoke. Helped himself to groceries, heh. Guess even an angel’s gotta eat. Gotta have his supper. Left enough coins to buy half the merchandise in the store, but only left with a few bags. Least the town grocer ain’t startin’ from scratch.”

Dahlia contemplates this information vigorously. Her eyes dart small distances again and again. She knows what to do. She knows exactly where to go now. But she knows she cannot make herself look so obvious. “East. That’s… interesting. That’s where my cousin lives. I’m… actually going to visit her today,” she explains as she unpockets her ticket and waves it with her hoof.

“Huh, ain’t that a coincidence,” the stallion hums with a lopsided simper, eyeing her ticket for a moment. “Well, if you happen’na see the angel out there durin’ yer visit, tell ‘em from the bottom of my heart: thank you. He did well by us. Saved dozens of lives.”

“… I will,” she smiles at him. The elderly stallion does the same in return. The little foal seems a bit more comfortable due to the conversation, maybe sleepy, as she rests against the older stallion’s chest with drooping eyes.

“Just, eh… ma’am?” the older stallion suddenly starts, drawing Dahlia’s innocent attention again.

“Yes?”

“You’re headed east fer yer cousin there, right?”

Dahlia nods, putting extra curiosity on her expression.

“… Just, erh… wanted to point out that you’ve got yerself a ticket headed west.” He points to her yellow ticket. “Not sure if that was an accident ‘r not.”

Dahlia looks down at the ticket she still holds out. She gasps sharply at it, her eyes expand greatly. “Oh… my goodness…” She glares shocked eyes to the stallion, then back to her ticket. “… I almost totally screwed up my entire day. This is what happens when I don’t have my morning coffee.”

“Hehah,” the older gentlecolt laughs genuinely. “Close call, if I’ve ever seen one. Find myself makin’ mistakes like that all the time these days. I reckon we’ve still got over five minutes till the train east pulls in. Not too late to speak to the ticket master. He’ll swap out yer ticket right-quick.”

“Eheh, yeah. This was… wow. Let me do that.” She climbs off of her seat awkwardly, holding an equally embarrassed smile. As she passes by the stallion, she hums a humble, “Thanks.” He nods once.

She returns to the ticket booth, garnering the bored stallion’s attention once again. “How can I help you, missy?” he asks again through the glass.

“I’d, uh… like to swap out my ticket. I got the wrong one like a dummy…”

“Not a problem. Direction or a train number.”

“East.”

Without further words, he leans down, disappearing under his desk. Once he re-emerges, he puts down a green ticket and four gold coins near the slot. “Ticket to the east station is eight bits. You can off-board and transfer to the major city trains there.” Once finished with his generic spiel, he waits until Dahlia passes her yellow ticket through.

She does so, and the stallion pushes the five items under the glass, including the new blue ticket. Dahlia in turn pushes the four bits back to the stallion. “Thanks for swapping out my ticket.” The stallion’s bored demeanor lifts slightly for surprise. He looks down at the four bits, then back to her. All Dahlia does in return is smile slightly.

With visible content, the stallion sits up and pulls the bits in, pocketing them in his white slacks. “Not a problem, missy. Very kind. Your train’ll be here in about five minutes.”

Dahlia nods and excuses herself silently. She returns to the bench she was sitting at previously. Now with a blue ticket in hoof, she glances at the older stallion again. The little filly seems to be asleep. The stallion himself is humming very softly – his deep timbre doing well to soothe the filly. Once he notices that Dahlia is looking at him, his saggy lips curl for a smile. She shyly returns one of equal measure.

The pattering of the rain somehow feels much more soothing now. Even the air itself feels warmer.

Not long later, the elder stallion throws his chin to Dahlia, prompting her to look at him. He then repeats the gesture, except aimed behind her. She turns to her left and sees a blocky figure coming in from the distance, one that trembles the tracks. “That’s the train headin’ east,” the stallion says. “Reckon it’s fer you.”

A genuine simper comes across her face. The train soon pulls into the station, prompting her to come off her seat. As the train hisses to a halt and the doors open, she looks back at the elder stallion. “… I hope you get to Detrot safe.”

The stallion gives one animated nod. “Thank you kindly, ma’am. Happy trails.”

With that, she hands her blue ticket to the attendant mare and finds her seat in a mostly empty cart. She gets herself comfortable for another several-hour long trip.

‎

‎

‎

~ Canterlot Castle, The Royal Research Labs ~<
April 13th, Thursday, 7:33

‎

A rush of anxiety washes over him as he steps into this section of the Castle, one which he has visited seldomly.

“And here are the Royal Research Labs,” Doctor Ivy gestures and speaks at the same time to both Banter and a mare in deep green robes which shroud her.

Banter feels completely out of his element by not only being in the labs, but also by the mare who has yet to speak one word to anyone since she arrived to Canterlot.

“I suppose we can conduct our work in any lab you see fit. Is there any one you prefer?” Ivy hints to the six rooms separated by their respective archways.

The mare under heavy robes and packed saddlebags glances around silently. She begins to suddenly walk towards one of the rooms, the one located to the far right next to the massive centrifuge. Banter and Ivy tail her accordingly.

“Ah,” Ivy comments with a smile, “the Head Researcher’s lab. I couldn’t have picked a better suited room myself.”

The three arrive to the designated laboratory, where the mare is quick to remove her bags from around her waist and set them on a random table. By their harsh ‘pomf’ onto the marble countertop, the bags are as heavy as they look. This by itself intimidates Banter, as the mare appears quite petite under her robes.

The mare opens her bags and begins to assort things all across the table. With the items that she splays out, the science table begins to look more like an alchemist’s bench. Powders, herbs, plastic bottles, and all sorts of miscellaneous objects and set about in an order only she would know. Once everything is set, the first things she does is levitate a small plastic bottle with a clear liquid inside of it towards Banter.

Banter shifts his eyes between the bottle in her blue magic and the mare herself. “… Eerh…”

“What is it, Banter?” Ivy asks with a lifted brow.

“Uh… am I at liberty to ask what that is?”

“It’s water.”

Banter shivers and snaps his attention to the robed mare, who finally speaks. Her voice is slow and harsh. He glares at her, then at the ‘water’ she speaks of. He then glances to Ivy, who gives him a scrutinizing look. “… Eheh, right. Thanks.” He takes the bottle of water with his wing.

“Take this first,” the mare follows up. She levitates two small, yellow, capsule-like ovals to him. Banter acquires them with his left hoof. “I recommend to avoid tasting the tablets.”

Not very encouraged by her demeanor, he looks down at them with skepticism. “… What are they for?”

“They will act as ushers for the serum. The tablets contain multiple enchanted minerals that will increase your metabolic rate. Your body will be more keen on absorbing rather than secreting. Along with a few other minor effects.”

“… Like?”

“You will not notice them. Please proceed to ingest the tablets.”

Banter again receives a rather harsh brow raise from Ivy. The mare is completely emotionless.

With little else on his side, he first swallows the lump in his throat before he attempts to down the tablets. He pops them both into his mouth, halts his breathing, uncaps the bottle of water, and drinks it in its entirety. The tablets flow into his esophagus with little hassle. Once he is finished, they are already on their way down to his stomach. He lines his lips with disgust after. “I can see why you said I shouldn’t taste it. Feels like I stuck two rusted metal studs in my mouth.”

“Your body temperature should increase momentarily,” the mare explains. “Do not panic. It is part of the procedure.”

“Uh, sure… I guess.” Everyone stands idle and quiet for several seconds, waiting for the effect to kick in. Banter feels his stress rising. The anticipation begins to eat at him. “… Hoo,” he hums, now feeling the furnace igniting in his stomach. The heat begins traveling from his gut to the rest of his body, and soon, he feels as if his entire body is sweating profusely. “Huuh, seesh, I… I’m burning up here…”

“Good,” the mare affirms. “Now please hold still.”

“Yeah, sure, I mean-- … huh?” His brows tense when he sees some sort of metal restraint levitate from her saddlebags. It looks like four hoof-cuffs all bound together by a thick chain forming an ‘x.’ “Wo-woah, what the? What is that?” Before he can finish his protest, the mare latches them onto his legs. He tries to move in them. He can shimmy very slightly to move, but natural movement is completely stopped.

“Attempt to break free," the mare commands.

“Wha…? Errh, I… alright. I guess. … Hrrrrrrh!” He strains his legs muscles in an attempt to break the binds. He tries to kick, he tries to stretch, but the metal which restrains him laughs at his attempts. “HRrrrrr!-- Ugh! Huuh… I… I can’t. And it’s so hot right now…”

The mare nods in acknowledgement. “I will now inject your body with the serum. Its effects are immediate. Brace yourself.”

“Woah, I mean— Can’t I just take a breather here? It’s like— It’s so damn hot, I—”

“Banter,” Ivy starts sternly. “Focus. Do as she says and hold still.”

Banter again swallows the tension from his throat. He shuts himself up and glares worriedly at the mare who brings out a syringe with a rather long needle from her bags. Inside of the plastic syringe, a green glowing essence shifts and ungulates inside. She levitates it his way. He can feel her eyes from under the robe. Somehow, he can tell that she is taking some semblance of pleasure in doing this.

The syringe levitates to the base of his neck. She pierces him just above his shoulder bone – the needle seeps in. The twinge of pain causes him to grunt. He can feel the green substance flooding into his body. It feels ice cold, especially in comparison to the burn coming from the tablets he ate. The clashing of feelings is causing him to panic. He tries to hold stiff and strong, until finally the needle comes out from his neck. One small trickle of blood comes from the puncture.

Gritting his teeth, Banter looks to both the mare and Ivy for any sort of helpful words or encouragement. They say nothing, instead they watch him with deep curiosity.

Seemingly nothing happens for a length of time which feels too long Banter.

…

He then catches the mare smile discreetly. His eyes shoot open as a raiding rush of burning pain travels all along his body. “RHG—EYAAAAAAH!” he cries into the air of the lab. His entire body quakes, his eyes are forming tears. He feels as if every single muscle in his body is being torn to shreds. The shackles upon him keep him from scampering and thrashing. “AAAAAAA—GYAAHAAAAA!” His vision becomes blurry from the tears that form. Furthermore, they become unfocused from the pain… and from something else. He feels as if his eyeballs weigh five pounds each. “AH—HRAAAHAAAAA! AAAAAAAH” He feels terribly confused. His mind starts to cloud up, as if something was spit-shining his brain and making him forget where he is and what he was doing. “UrhHah—Aaaah?”

Both Ivy and the mare grin.

“Hehr—Uuh…”

Soon, Banter’s suffering comes to a close. What is left is a stallion who is panting heavily and barely able to stand up. He trembles, feeling like an overinflated balloon.

“Banter,” Ivy calls commandingly.

“Huh!” the stallion shivers from being startled. He is snapped back to reality by the doctor’s voice, his legs splay out in a combat stance. A loud metallic shattering sound comes from his restraints as they are effortlessly, and accidentally, broken from the chain due to his pose. “Wha…?”

Both Ivy and the mare share a glance and exchange grins. They refocus on their subject, with the doctor speaking up, “How do you feel, Captain Banter?”

“I… I…” He soon reacclimatizes to his surroundings, remembering where he is and what he is doing. He looks at Ivy and the mare, terribly confused. “… Why… why are you two so short all of a sudden?”

“Are we?” Ivy smirks.

“I… I dunno…” He starts looking around, finding everything to be smaller than it was just a moment ago. Not only this, but he feels like his eyes are zooming into every detail of every object that surrounds him. He can hear the weak draft of the labs – the whirling centrifuge outside is suddenly louder and its resonating sound waves can be dissected by his ears. He then looks down at himself, becoming completely confounded at what he sees. The clothes he wears are stretched to their limit, barely able to keep inside his newly created musculature and size. He huffs out a breath of disbelief. He looks at Ivy and the mare again with his befuddled expression. “I-- ... why do I feel… incredible?”

“The administration was successful,” the mare says, looking towards the table again. “I will now provide additional supplements to stabilize your body and magic. Please fill the water bottle with more water if needed.”

Banter looks to the plastic bottle he dropped on the ground, then again to the mare. His disconcert remains visible. “… Yes, ma’am.”
‎

‎ ‎

‎

‎

~ Equestria, The Passenger Train ~<
April 13th, Thursday, 10:21

‎

The trip on the trains felt essentially skipped as Dahlia struggled to stay awake for each one, eventually falling asleep with her head against the windows. The news of the angel’s appearance and good deed filled her spirit with enough comfort to help her make up for the sleep she failed to get the night before.

Now as she comes to for a second time, she notes that the silver city of Baltimare is already upon the horizon.

A quick examination of the cart shows that quite a number of other ponies have boarded the transfer train after her. The cart is almost full, yet practically no one speaks, leaving the ambience of the cart quiet and comfortable against the rain. She banishes her sleepiness with the rapid, harsh blinking of her eyes. She focuses on the city coming closer and closer.

In a few short minutes does the cart attendant make her entrance and announces that their stop is near. The train begins to screech over the tracks until it comes to a halt. The attendant positions herself near the door and opens it for disembarkment, offering words of caution as to not slip on the way out.

Dahlia waits for the masses to flood out of the cart first before rising. She trickles out with the remainder of the passengers and trots off in the opposite direction of the crowds. As the other ponies move to the north exit of the station, she takes the south. Ensuring she is not followed or no one is eyeing her, she comes off the platform and trots out to the city limits.

She becomes drenched from the downpour. The hustle and bustle of the city dies down the further she gets. Once outside of the city, the primly paved concrete streets fade out to wet dirt. The sounds of precipitating nature overtake what was previously pony-made. She continues down along the unmarked dirt road south until she bumps into her locale of interest.

On this path, she begins to remember how easy it is to miss despite doing this before. With plenty of forestry blocking off all view except the beach to the east, she thinks she might have missed it already. The mist of the never-ending rain also does not help her cause. Still, she perseveres. She holds her head low and keeps trotting until she hopefully bumps into it.

After enough overthinking and resisting the urge to double back on herself, she spots the beginning of a clearing amidst the trees. Over a mile and a half of hasty walking finally puts her where she wants to be. A smile grows upon her face when a modest blue house comes into view past the forestry. She kicks into a faster trot to arrive sooner.

She slows down to carefully approach the front door. Not wanting to kiss the shield, she sticks her hoof out in anticipation. It wobbles, like penetrating jelly, and her hoof phases right through. She sighs some relief and proceeds to open the door quietly. She shuts it just as gently once she enters.

The immediate satisfaction of warm air conditioning banishing the cold humidity relieves her further. She cleans her muddy hooves on the coarse welcome mat before unloading everything off of her body at the entrance. The back of her mind has worry that if Crimson is here, the first thing he will do is scold her for tracking water into the house. She sets out his duster on a rack near the door, letting it drip on the tile. She sets her bags, his boots, and his belt next to it. Since the duster blocked practically all of the rain, her shirt is completely dry. She is happy to leave it on. She begins to cautiously explore the seemingly empty home.

She first walks steadily to the living room and kitchen, quickly finding out that there is no one present and nothing appears dirty or disturbed. Slightly disheartened, she moves to the sliding door and peeks past the glass to examine the backyard. Still no one.

Her heart drops a bit further. She turns and moves towards the staircase. Once upstairs, the only thing she hears is the repeated gentle beeps of the ANA device through the closed bedroom door.

She decides to first check the bathroom, pushing the already opened door all the way in. She did not anticipate him to be in here, considering the light is off, but she felt the need to check anyway. While still disappointed, she spots something curious. She sees a bucket full of a fluid she does not recognize. It also has something like a gardening tool inside of it, soaking into the mysterious watery red substance. She knows for a fact that this bucket was not there before. Her caution heightens.

She carefully exits the restroom and makes a quiet pace to the bedroom door. Now that she is right before it, she notices that it is not actually closed, but almost. There is no gap to peek through. She leans in to press her head against it… and she hears something. At first, it is faint. Some sort of repeated metal on metal dings, like a small tool being used to work on a tiny piece. She cannot be sure if its simply the ANA making these noises, until slightly louder rhythmic tapping occurs. Her eyes widen. Someone is definitely inside, possibly using their hands to fix or make something.

Her heart skips a beat, her excitement gets the better of her. With clenched teeth and hopeful eyes, she pushes in the door and exclaims, “Crimson!”

“Wuh!?”

“Huh!?”

Two mares gawk dilated pupils at one another, frozen in a staring contest where neither of them blink for a good five seconds.

...

"WAAaAAAH!" Moonlight screams out in horror, almost falling off of her desk chair.

“GYAAAAAH!” Dahlia cries in return, almost tripping on her tail.

“Wh-Wh-Who are you!?” Moonlight desperately interrogates.

Dahlia finds herself frozen. She ogles the easy-blue unicorn, quickly digesting who she is and what is happening. She can hardly believe it. She does not want to believe it. The mare she has only heard of and seen through magical means is finally in front of her. Barely now does she internalize a simple truth: she completely failed to consider that this is indeed her home, and she recently had a very traumatic experience. The probability of Moonlight being here is so high that she feels like hitting herself for letting it slip her mind.

Now Dahlia stands here, invading a stranger’s home with the owner at the forefront of the probing. She swallows the lump in her throat to try and find a non-confrontational way out of this.

‎

‎

‎

~ Equestria, the Skies Above ~<
April 13th, Thursday, 10:47

‎

The are many things he contemplates while high above the world, feeling as free as the animals who live their lives in flight. Something that astonishes him is how incredibly natural flying feels to him. It is as if he was simply running. After running for so long, one’s legs somewhat move on their own – the repeated muscle memory keeps them in motion. The same appears to be the case for his ethereal wings of hard light.

But what awes him the most is, unlike running, he does not feel tired or strained in any way. Not like the last time he flew from Las Pegasus to the midlands. That was torture. This, however, feels comfortable and passive. He feels as if he could fly literally forever. Such a minor tune to his internal gears, the ‘fuel’ which his nemesis spoke of truly is what he was missing all along.

He knows its source, even if he did not divulge it to Lillian. Finally being able to let go of his grudge, letting bygones be bygones. He cannot be sure what ‘class’ of Arch in him is digesting this fuel. For all he knows it could one, or all of them. Based on what Lillian said, it is likely not the latter. He finds that he still knows very little about his gift despite this experience.

Nevertheless, if he could go back in time, no matter how hard a pill it is to swallow, he would use his Arch to kill Michael. He would use his Arch in general. Vigil was right all along, and he knew it from the start. In some ways, this gift is a curse. A good excuse for his family to be singled out for the tragedy and suffering they had to endure. But in that same way, it was a tool. An advantage. A step-up from adversity that would allow him to triumph over the unfair toils dawned upon his lineage. He has no words to describe how much he hates himself.

All that is left now is to make it work. To make amends. He holds that it is not too late to help Equestria, despite what Lillian said. He will try his heart out to save the world he inadvertently damned. He tries not to burden himself with this fact. He instead redirects these feelings against Fate. The prospect of his own penance does well to stoke his fire. He will make sure to keep this world from falling asunder, if not to save the ones he cares for, then to spite her.

Now, he eyes the cloud of smog which condenses over the ruined city. The Slums comes into his approach, and soon he is in the skies directly above it.

He halts his speed to hover above it. His front is focused, stern, as he tries to orient himself from high above. Luckily for him the storm has not traveled this far west, if it ever will. It seems as if this section of Equestria is impervious to rain. He will not count on it, and instead act with haste to look for Dahlia.

He curses the fact that the smog effectively blocks out any structures or forms under it, making it impossible to see the district in which the motel lies. He surmises that he will need to ground himself and follow the dusty trail. Accepting this as his course of action, he takes in a breath and stiffens his wings. He falls into the dense blackened cloud, disappearing into the ruins.

‎

‎

‎

~ Equestria, Moonlight’s Home ~<
April 13th, Thursday, 10:47

‎

“Y-You’re… Moonlight, right?”

“Eep!” she squeals, shutting her eyes and holding her head between her hooves. Her shivering is uncontrollable. “H-How do you know my name!?”

By now, Dahlia has mostly composed herself. She uses this clarity to take in the scene before her. She feels like Moonlight is so scared right now she might have a heart attack. She speaks softly and slowly as to not perturb her further. “I… um… I think you might… know my name too.”

The trembling unicorn opens one eye to look at her. It glazes her up and down in its fearful state.

“My, uh… my name's--"

“D-D…”

The tan pegasus halts herself immediately. Her pupils shrink when the correct phonetic begins.

“D-Dah… Dahlia?”

Her chest feels like a wound-up spring, calling her to shout everything on her mind at once. Yet, all that comes out as a reply is, “… Y… Yeah.”

Moonlight does not respond immediately, instead the two bask in silence, simply staring at one another. The blue unicorn steadily begins to pick up the shambles of her composure. The shivers come to an end. She reaches to adjust her glasses and blink twice, almost if trying to banish the visage that stands before her.

“… You’re… D-Dahlia.”

The pegasus nods twice.

“… You… you thought… Crimson was in here?”

A pang in her stomach causes her to stutter. “Yrh-- … Yeah. I thought he… was. I’m, uh… I’m sorry for barging in like that. And for breaking into your house. I--”

“Dahlia…” she says the name again, almost as if trying to interpret the word. This causes the pegasus herself to become confused and step into further awkwardness. “… You’re… looking for Crimson?”

“… I’m trying to.”

“… He’s trying to look for you too.”

“He is!?” Her voice elevates and she almost darts at Moonlight. Seeing as this startled the unicorn quite badly, she takes a step back and clears her throat. “I-I’m sorry, I-- … He’s looking for me?”

Moonlight tries to ease her nerves again and nods quickly. “H-He left… a few hours ago… to look for you.”

As she digests this information, a very obvious tint comes upon her cheeks. Moonlight reaches to adjust her glasses again, visibly noticing this. “… So he’s… here? With you?”

Moonlight nods again. “He found me here a few days ago… I think he came here to find you… just like you did for him.”

The skepticism in her voice calls for an immediate explanation in Dahlia’s mind. “Y-Yeah, I… it’s a long story, but… we kinda-- … we kinda used your house as a hideaway. J-Just for a day, it wasn’t long. There was nopony here, and so we… y’know…”

Moonlight does not take her gaze away from the pegasus who tries to elaborate on her actions. It almost seems like she is not listening with how intently she stares. “… Thank you for your honesty. Nothing was broken or missing, s-so… I think it’s okay that you stayed here.”

Surprise fails to describe Dahlia’s emotions. Utterly stumped, her brain works twice as hard to speak in return. “T… Thanks. I, uh… we. We appreciate that. You’re… really not mad? That we broke into your house?”

“I-If I was here, I would have invited you in anyway, so… there’s no reason for me to be upset.”

Dahlia accepts this even if she does not quite understand why she is being so kind. Again, they regress into simply ogling each other. It ends when Dahlia advocates a burning thought. “… Y’know… you’re nothing like I imagined you’d be. No offense intended.”

“N-None taken. … But… if I may ask… what did you think I was like?”

“Well, it’s… I dunno. A lot of different stuff, I guess. Much of it isn’t very nice.” Moonlight looks down at her own hooves, then to the project she was working on. Dahlia follows her gaze and looks at it as well. Small pieces of metal, screws, washers and such, all liter the table where the ANA sits. It looks like… “… Are you… making a watch?”

“Oh, um… y-yes. I am. It’s for Crimson, he…” She trials off, looking back down at her hooves. “… It’s… a long story.”

Dahlia raises her left brow, finding an interesting parallel. “… Umm… do you know when Crimson’ll be back?”

“Before sundown. M-Maybe a little sooner.”

“Hm. That’s… a few hours from now. Is it… is it cool with you if I wait here for him…? … And stuff?”

Moonlight looks up at her again, nodding twice. “T-That’s completely fine. I was… um… I was actually going to ask you… i-if you wanted… something to drink?” Dahlia’s ears perk up, a physical gesture which encourages Moonlight. “… D-Do you like coffee? Orange juice, maybe? A glass of water?”

Dahlia swallows a lump in her throat, almost not understanding the hostess nature being displayed. “… C… Coffee?”

Moonlight nods happily.

‎

~<

‎

Dahlia now finds herself sitting on the two cushion couch downstairs, looking through the sliding glass door at the rainfall. The scent of brewing coffee fills the room as Moonlight drips boiling water over coffee beans which she grinded herself. She uses her magic to hold the filter and the water pot. A small smile rests on her front as the smell wafts her way.

Soon, two mugs of coffee are poured. Moonlight looks over to the musing pegasus from the kitchen and asks, “Would you like sugar?”

“Uuh,” she snaps back to reality, looking back at her, “… sure. Thanks.” Even though Moonlight accepts the appreciative words, Dahlia feels a sour taste in her mouth. She lines her lips, almost blurting, “Thank you.”

Moonlight pauses briefly to look at her. Once she understands why she said it again, this time appropriately and formally, she smiles genuinely. She puts together that perhaps this pegasus is not too socially equipped. She finds it reminiscent of herself. “You’re welcome~” she replies sweetly. “Two spoons?”

“Three… please.”

Moonlight obliges and opens a hanging cabinet to retrieve the proposed sugar. She does the same from a drawer next to the sink to obtain a spoon. She adds the requested amount of sweetness to both her own and Dahlia’s cup before putting everything away and moving to the living room, mugs in her twinkling aura. She sets both down on the coffee table, one in front of Dahlia, and one in front of the center cushion of the large couch. She takes a seat right after.

Dahlia takes her mug and holds it near her stomach, watching the steam gently rising from the dark liquid. “… It’s been a while since I’ve had coffee.”

“Same for me. Crimson actually brought these beans yesterday. Good timing, I think. … I used to drink coffee almost every morning before school.”

“Dude, same!” Dahlia announces happily. “It wasn’t even me that made it, it was my mom. She always made me a small cup of coffee before school with breakfast.”

“Hmhm, same~ Except with me, it was my dad. He always made everypony in the family coffee and my mom would make breakfast. It was our little routine.”

“Yeah, I feel you there. It’s one of the things I missed the most after my mom passed. I kinda just… never had the motivation to make it myself after that.”

“Oh.” Moonlight’s ears fall to her head and her brows raise melancholically. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I hope you’re doing much better now…”

“… Eh. Hard to say. I mean, she died a long time ago now, so… I guess you can say I’m over it.”

“How old were you when she passed?”

“Thirteen. It was actually a few days away from my fourteenth birthday when she was killed.”

“That’s so horrible…”

“Yeah. Wildmanes got to her. Nearly got to me too, but… town militia saved me in the nick of time.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, that’s… I couldn’t even imagine…”

“Shit happens, I guess. It happens a lot too.”

She nods understandingly. “In—Indeed… um… w-what of your father? Is he still okay?”

“My dad? Pfft. Fuck that guy.” Moonlight puts a hoof over her mouth. “He’s a deadbeat shit-stain that raped my mom. The reason I even exist is because that guy sucks so much.” She glances to Moonlight, catching her tension. “… But, uh… to answer your question… he’s dead too.”

Moonlight lines her lips and looks away, wanting to shrink into a ball for asking such a sensitive question unknowingly.

Dahlia lifts her mug to her lips, taking a careful sip of the hot liquid. She savors it, smacks her lips a few times, and smiles. “Mm. This is good stuff. Kinda tastes like the brand my mom used to buy.”

Completely unsure how Dahlia managed to blow past such a sharp topic so quickly, Moonlight suffers brief intrapersonal whiplash. Though once her mind catches up, she trepidly speaks up. “I-I’m glad you like it. It’s the Northwest Seasons brand.”

“Aah, yeah! Northwest Seasons! That’s the same one my mom would buy! Huh, small world.”

Moonlight nods with a timid smile.

“What about your parents? They a total train wreck like mine?”

“N… Not exactly. They’re… they’re very kind. I haven’t… I haven’t seen them in a long time. Almost a whole year. B-But that’s my choice. They live in Canterlot.”

“Huh. What keeps you from stopping by?”

“… Like I said, m-my parents, they’re… very kind. Maybe a bit too kind. Even when I was in Magic Academy, they would treat me like a foal. They were also very selective of who I could be friends with.”

“Ugh, that sounds awful. I can see why you don’t visit.”

“I love them very, very much, but… I think I would lose my mind if I spent more than one evening at their home again. I know I should be more grateful, especially since… from what you had said…”

“You don’t need to answer to them if you don’t feel like it. You don’t gotta answer to anypony. You’re a grown mare.”

“… I wish they understood that. … B-But, um… I wanted to ask, w-where are you from?”

“I came from a shithole that used to be called the Communities. Pretty sure you’ve heard of ‘em.”

“Oh! Yes! My grandfather from my dad’s side is from there! Or, from what the Communities used to be, before the unification. He used to work for the wheat farms.”

“Huh. I wonder if my mom knew him.”

“It’s a possibility. Before the Great War ended, he was the last of my family’s lineage. It was the only place he could find stable work. Though, he never wanted to settle down in the Communities because of how unsafe they were, so he worked and saved up enough money to move to Canterlot. He spent most of his adulthood working for the city – paving the streets and refining gold.”

“Hm, maybe not then. If your grandpa was still young, then my ma’ was probably very little. Or not even born yet.”

The two take a moment to sip at their drinks. The warmth of the beverage works comfortably against the cool of the spring morning, especially against the downpour.

“I was curious,” Moonlight suddenly begins, “… w-what did you mean by ‘I wasn’t what you expected?’”

“Ah, yeah. That.” She mulls in her mind for the right choice of words. “… I’ll start by saying I can’t put it in a nice light.”

“That’s okay. Please tell?”

“Hmh. Well, alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. So… I’m sure Crimson has said stuff about me. What I do to make money, I guess.” Moonlight nods in affirmation. “And Crimson told me where you’re from. City of gold and marble.” She nods again. “I think you know where I’m going with this. Rich, spiffy prick against a nasty dirt-bathing thief. Everypony who lives in Canterlot is immediately on my shit list. I can’t stand ponies so far up their own ass that they can’t even see how intolerable they are. Especially since your kind really likes looking down on the little guys.”

“… Did you think I was like this?”

“To put it bluntly, yeah. I did. I didn’t like you, the thought of you… anything about you really. I know you felt the same way about me.” Moonlight’s ears perk up as her eyes expand. “Yeah. Crimson told me that you don’t like tomb raiders.”

“Oh. I…” Knowing that there is no logical excuse she can use, her ears fall against her head again. “… Yes, I… I did have a negative connotation of you as well. I just… I just think that there are other ways of studying long lost civilization and treasures that does not involve pillaging. A team of careful archeologists could-- …” She sees that Dahlia is staring at her very boredly, causing her to stop. “… N-Never mind. … I want to apologize for being so crude. I shouldn’t have judged you before I actually got to know you. It's… it’s definitely something that was learned living in Canterlot.”

Dahlia tries to hold the resting bitch face as best as she can, but finds it extremely difficult from how apologetic and sincere she finds Moonlight to be. Her lips quiver before failing to control a snicker. The blue unicorn looks very confused. “Hehey, don’t sweat it, Moonlight. I’m a bitch too. A way bigger one than you. I judged the hell out of you, and I only started to change my mind when me and Crimson stopped by your house for the first time. There’s no way one of the richest members of the Consortium has a house this small and cozy. All the rich assholes I’ve ever met buy things that make sure you know that they’re rich assholes. This?” She throws one hoof into the air, signaling the house. “This is one of the comfiest houses I’ve ever been in. It sorta reminds me of the one I Iived in as a filly.”

Moonlight was listening to her, wary and timid, but as Dahlia kept speaking, a smile began to form and now paints her lips proudly. “… I’m glad you like it here. I do too, it’s… it’s special. I actually… never wanted to leave it.”

Dahlia tilts her head curiously. “… Why did you?”

“… Crimson.” She knows that this does not adequately explain the situation, but for some reason, she notes a twinkle of understanding in Dahlia’s eyes. “… He… convinced me to leave. That I should go out and… be more sociable. Interact with the world instead of hide from it. He told me that researching from my home was much less effective and efficient than researching from Canterlot.”

“Well he’s right, isn’t he?”

“… In a way. The tools for research are far superior in Canterlot than here in my home. That’s objectively correct. But… it’s everything else that makes being over there much… much less efficient.”

“Everything else? … You mean like… the kinda stuff that made you come back here?”

Moonlight nods simply, bringing her coffee up for a sip.

Finding herself overrun by curiosity, Dahlia fidgets in place before following suit, taking a hasty sip of her drink. It cooled a little, making it more comfortable to take. “If, uh… if you don’t mind me asking. What… did happen?”

“Crimson didn’t tell you?”

She shakes her head, knowing that it is mostly the truth, but not all of it.

“Mm… well… I don’t mind you asking. It’s… a silly situation.”

“I’d still like to hear it.”

Moonlight smiles meekly, finding her genuine intrigue somewhat flattering. “… Well… it really started after my graduation from Magic Academy. After my final thesis to graduate, the Royal Research team was invested in my work. They recruited me right after graduation, and Celestia herself taught me almost everything I know in terms of advanced spell casting. … To be honest, I didn’t want to be a researcher.”

“You wanted to be a teacher, right?”

Her eyes gleam in surprise. “Y-Yes. I did. Crimson… told you?”

“Yeah. He didn’t tell me much about you, but… that was one of the things he did.”

She blushes lightly. A smile takes shape. “… I wanted to be a teacher. But… my parents convinced me to join them. The Royal Researchers. The princess herself invited me for a ceremony. By the start of the following spring, I was taking a picture with the newest school of scribes. My life changed a lot when I joined them. That’s where I met my first crush… w-well, my first official crush. My parents forbade me from seeing anyone until I was seventeen.”

“That’s fucking stupid.”

“Of all the rules they put on me, that was definitely the most egregious one. At least, I felt this way until that first crush became my coltfriend. He… he treated me…” she tries to find words to both soothe her aching heart but clean enough not to feel guilty for saying them, “… very… badly. He was very unkind to me.”

“Huh. Trust me, sister. Bad dates, I’ve been there.”

Feeling encouraged by Dahlia’s words, she continues with less hesitation. “He always wanted to… do ‘the deed.’ I asked him to wait until marriage, but it felt like that’s all he really wanted from me.”

“Ugh, I know. Fuck those guys. There was this asshole I was forced to date like eleven years ago. Literally the same way. This stallion of yours… what’s his name?”

“… C-Crescent.”

“Crescent. Fuck him, he fucking sucks, and he should be dead. If this was the way he was acting, I’ll take a wild guess and say he was putting his hooves on you too, wasn’t he?”

“… On multiple occasions… but… um… w-what was ‘his’ name? The one you were forced to date?”

“Zest. That loser’s name was Zest.”

“D-Did Zest… hurt you too?”

“Pff, that’s putting it lightly. The fucking wacko tried to rape and kill me.” Moonlight inhales sharply enough to cut the air in front of her. “Yeah. I used to work for a rich family as a maid, and he was their snobby, shitty son. They practically forced me to date him, but I’d always put him off. The night he tried to rape me, I ended up killing him.”

Moonlight’s mouth hangs open.

“Not intentionally. It was… I was just trying to save myself.”

Understanding the place she comes from, Moonlight fixes her face and takes in a depressive muse. “… I wish… I wish I had your heart. Crescent would hit me and call me mean things, all because I wasn’t giving him what he wanted… even when I said I would, after we were married.”

“That’s the thing. Marriage. Stallions hate it, and for good reason. All they want is to sleep around and be gross and stupid. They just want something to satisfy them.”

Moonlight squints, feeling her own expelling of emotions through Dahlia’s crude way of speaking. “… It didn’t stop with him. This last time… after Crimson convinced me to return to Canterlot-- … well, let me step back a little. Just after Crescent was sent to the Dungeon for what he did to me, there was this… f-friend,” she forces the word out, feeling terribly bitter at saying it. “He was a scribe, just like me. He’d been there for two years already, and he was… nice. He was very understanding. He liked a lot of the things I liked, and… he fell in love with me. I almost did the same with him, but… I only knew he had feelings for me after Crescent had asked me to date.”

“Damn. That timing’s incredible.”

“It… was. Because this friend… M-… M-Magnifying Glass. After Crescent. After staying away from Canterlot for years. Crimson convinced me to go back. And when I did, the first thing Magnifying did was… ask me out on a date. I had no idea it would end so… terribly. He… he tried to do… exactly like Zest did.”

Dahlia squints in anger. Even if she already knew what the outcome was, seeing the timid blue unicorn explain this herself surfaces emotions she suppressed long ago. “What a piece of fucking shit. I’m glad Crimson killed him.”

Moonlight’s face twitches. It then cracks a smile. She lifts her eyes from the carpet and up to Dahlia. “… I agree completely.”

Grins on their faces, they move to sip at their coffee.

‎

‎

~ Equestria, The Slums ~<
April 13th, Thursday, 11:09

‎

The walk across the sand-riddled streets is eerily quiet. Many denizens of this shambled city are seen peeking through their shanties – he feels that some of them recognize him. Still, none speak up or verbally acknowledge him.

It is not long until finds and walks the hidden trail, finding himself in the clearing where the motel sits. He comes up on the porch and reaches for the doorknob. Something inside him still expects an older kind to be standing idly on the other side of the receptionist desk, but when he opens the door and pushes it in, there is no one of the sort. The motel is just as empty and desolate as it was once left.

Crimson proceeds to scour each room in the hall, opening each door and bothering not to close them. No one resides in the five rooms. He returns to the lobby and maneuvers around the desk, opening the back door and heading to the small square yard.

Three mounds await him, two of which have headstones. Other than these three, there is no one else to greet him.

Letting out a despondent sigh, he walks up the grave in the center, hands in his thin pockets. He looks down at Axel’s resting place, simply watching it. Thinking. Feeling.

He glances between all of the mounds before letting his eyes fall to his boots. “… Mornin’, y’all,” he finally says after building up the courage. “How’s everythin’ on the other side? … Goin well, I’d hope. … Yeah. I’m still tryin’ to-- ... just tryin’a figure everythin’ out. Things got a lot more complicated, I’ll tell y’all what. Smalltime hits sound like a dream right about now. Take that over what I’m dealin’ with.”

Feeling the urge to take a seat and simply converse with the three, Crimson does so. He has some time to kill before needing to head back, so he figures it will be alright. He sits on the dirt, legs crossed, and continues speaking to no one but himself and the mounds of dirt.

‎

‎

~ Equestria, Moonlight’s Home ~<
April 13th, Thursday, 11:10

‎

“And then what happened?” Moonlight asks enthusiastically. Both mares seem to be feeling more lively than usual as they both partake in invested conversation, already finished with their drinks and having sat their cups down on the table. They may not realize how the caffeine coursing through their bodies could be causing them to be more energetic.

“Then! I crawled under the spike trap I dodged earlier, kicked one of the spears off the wall, and used it as a weapon to fend off the vipers!”

“Wooah! That’s incredible! Amazing quick thinking in such a stressful situation!”

“Yeah, I even surprised myself. I was even more surprised when one of the vipers survived a stabbing and managed to jump at me.” Moonlight gasps, holding her hooves over he mouth. “Heh, but lucky for me, the watch I bought in Manehattan managed to protect my arm from the fangs. It bit right on the face of the watch, and the battery exploded. I didn’t even know watch batteries could blow up like that.”

“Oh my stars! Now that I think about it, I believe my dad had one of those watches! I don’t quite recall the brand name, but he also bought a watch from a shop in Manehattan a few years ago when he used to supervise the Canterlot refinery. He came back with it and the battery popped during his shift. The refinery is a really hot place, so I don’t think the watch liked that. It suddenly went one day and he was so angry. He had a really bad bruise on his arm and his coat got burnt off.”

“Yup! Same thing happened to me. Better circumstances than your dad, though. The viper couldn’t dig into my arm and battery blowing up shooed the sucker off. Maybe the watches possessed me and your dad ‘cause I remember being super pissed too. Stabbed that viper like ten times from how angry I got.”

“Heheh~ This is the first time I’ve ever heard shoddy craftsmanship saving a pony’s life.”

“Hehe, fortune and luck work in mysterious ways~ Even I don’t know how I’m still alive when I really think about it.”

“I think it’s because you’re bold. You know that saying how fortune favors them?”

“Hey, maybe you’re right. I guess fortune really smiles on ponies who buy terribly-made ‘fancy’ brands of watches.”

Both mares share a heartly chortle.

“That actually reminds me,” Dahlia starts again, “what’s up with that watch you’re making upstairs? You said it was for Crimson, right?”

“Oh! Y-Yes, it is!”

Dahlia hears the change in tone the unicorn has when reference to him is brought. She tries not to make her skepticism obvious. “He want a watch or something?”

“U-Um… well… sort of. I’m making it for him because…” She stops, trying to piece the words together. “… It was an idea primarily to help him keep track of time as he looked for you, since we wouldn’t know how long it would take. W-We… sort of… made an agreement… that he wouldn’t be out for too long. F-For safety’s sake.”

“… Uh-huh. Safety’s sake.”

Moonlight’s posture deflates slightly.

“What’s the real reason you’re making it for him?” Caught like a deer in headlights, Moonlight’s lips purse and her eyes widen. “C’mon, Moonlight. You can’t bullshit me. You haven’t yet, don’t start now.”

“P-Please. Forgive me, I-- … I’m sorry.”

“Dude, don’t sweat it. Just don’t lie. You obviously have something to say, so say it.”

Moonlight brings her hooves to the left lock of her twirled mane and begins to play with it, trying to push down her trepidation. “Uuhm… I… I’m making it for him… so he can keep track of time while looking for you. Per our agreement.” Dalhia nods, giving a look that says ‘and?’ “A-And… it’s… for me. Too.”

“You two gonna share it or something?”

She shakes her head quickly, “N-No, it’s… it’s for me because…” She feels her cheeks enflamed. The embarrassment is almost suffocating. “… B-Because I… don’t want him gone… for too long.”

Dahlia furrows her brows, giving the little unicorn a very obvious look of skepticism. “That’s… weird. Why though?”

“B-Because… I c-care for him, and…”

“Stop right there, Moonlight.” She does as commanded. “I don’t need to be a good guesser for this one, this is too obvious. You’re in love with Crimson, aren’t you?”

“Eep!” Her heart throbs in her hears.

“Huh. Figures. So you’re making him that watch so he doesn’t fall flat on his promise.”

“… Y-Yes,” she responds almost inaudibly.

“… Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but he’s in love with me.”

“WAAH!?”

Dahlia gives a bored look to her hoof, as if examining it without care. “Yeah, sorry Moonlight. He already told me he did.”

“B-But--! Th-That’s--!” Her face is burning so badly that she could scream. Despite this urge, she controls her voice so it instead comes out raised rather than shouted. “No! He loves me! He told me too, and we kissed!”

“You WHAT!?” Dahlia’s face reddens immediately.

Feeling like she has the high ground, Moonlight puts up a small, vicious smile. “T-This morning as a matter of fact! Before he left! W-We’ve been kissing a lot!”

“Yh-- Wuh-- Oh yeah!? Well, we kissed too! Before you two did! We kissed and he said he loves me! So you’re obviously lying!”

“I’m not! He did! We did!”

Dahlia jumps up from the couch and hovers right over Moonlight with her wings. “He can’t love us both at the same time, Moonlight! And guess what!? I’m not gonna just let you have him! Him--! We! You can’t even begin to imagine the shit we’ve been through!”

Puffing out her chest and cheeks, Moonlight stares up at the hovering pegasus with squinted eyes. “W-Well, him and I have gone through just as much! I can’t let him go!”

“Neither can I! What makes you think you can just take him, huh!?”

“B-Because! He’s--! I’m…!” she pauses briefly, almost not wanting to say what is about to surface. But, in part emotional overburden and part fighting for herself, she continues regardless. “I’m obsessed with him! Unhealthily! A-And I won’t let him go! Ever!”

Dahlia’s eyes dilate at what she hears. Not because of how objectively unhinged it is, but because… “… Oh yeah!? Well guess what, sister! I’m obsessed with him too! More than you! Way more than you! Too bad, so sad! I was there for him first! Get in line!”

Moonlight’s throat catches mid-rebuttal. Her body urges to continue mindlessly shouting back, but Dahlia’s words stick like cementing paste onto the walls of her mind.

“Well guess what, sister! I’m obsessed with him too!”

Moonlight’s trembling, furious eyes slowly lose their insanity. Something inside her, like a crack suddenly appearing in a perfectly molded vase, breaks through both hemispheres of her brain. This sensation, whatever it is, begins to trickle from her head down to her heart, and to the rest of her body. She lifts her submissive pink orbs up and down the pegasus who still eyes her like a sworn enemy.

“What’re you looking at!?”

“D-Dahlia,” Moonlight coos softly.

“What!?”

Moonlight flinches lightly at her barking. Still yet, she tries to compose herself and press on. She proceeds extends one hoof out slowly and carefully, as not to be mistaken for a physical attack. Dahlia almost does so anyway, looking at the hoof in something like fear or agitation. It takes a second, but she soon realizes it is an offer. A bidding for her to reach as well.

Still riled up, Dahlia questions, “What is this!? What are you doing!?” Moonlight simply holds out her hoof, yearning for it to be accepted. The angry pegasus very obviously sees the sincerity in her pink ponds, and still, she tries to fight it. “Why are you doing this?” she asks critically, but with a lowered tone.

“… Please, Dahlia.”

Her teeth clench. Her magenta orbs still burn what they see… but she relents. Through some miracle even she does not understand, she forces herself to extend a hoof to meet Moonlight’s. They touch. She feels herself gently being pulled in. She does not fight it and allows herself to brought down and sat on the couch. Now sitting right next to each other, they make unbreakable eye contact – especially that of Moonlight’s firm stare.

This intimate silence is held long enough for Dahlia’s burning flame to die down to embers.

“I…” Moonlight begins with hesitance, “… I’m sorry for becoming so confrontational with you. I… lost my temper, and I don’t want to make this your perception of me… especially because of… our desires.”

Dahlia lines her brows atop her eyes but does not speak up yet.

“We’ve known about each other for some time now, but were never able to meet until today. This encounter was pure coincidence… at least, I thought it was. The more we talked with each other, the more things we had to say, I started to realize that… m-maybe… we’re not so different.”

“… Well I think we’re night and day.”

“And… you’re right. As similar as we are, we’re different in that you’re headstrong and honest. I… really admire that about you. I’m… not nearly as strong as you are. I hold onto a lot of things I want to say. I don’t like confrontation, just like right now. But…”

“… But,” Dahlia takes advantage of Moonlight drifting off to speak up. Moonlight abides by silencing herself. “It sounds like we’ve both been through a lot. And surprisingly, a lot of the same problems. Which, to be frank, is kinda crazy to think about. You come from the snobby world of the rich… but somehow, you dealt with a lot of the same things a poor social outcast like me had to deal with. I never would have guessed it honestly. I guess this world really is as unforgiving as we think it is.”

Moonlight nods twice, a small simper upon her lips.

“… And, like…” Dahlia’s ears fall to her head, beginning to feel the stomach-turning guilt of her recent explosion. “… I’m sorry too, I guess. I meant what I said, and I kinda hate myself for it. I lived my whole live not wanting to get attached to anypony anymore, and look where it got me. Completely obsessed with an alien from another world.”

Moonlight giggles. “I couldn’t have explained my circumstances any better than you just did.”

“… Huh. I guess we really are a lot more similar than I’m giving credit. I just… I’m not good at handling the way I feel, especially when it’s things I feel strongly about. I’m not… I’m not as good as you are at staying calm. And, honestly, I… I sorta… kinda… respect that. About you.”

Moonlight finds herself blushing. Her smile becomes more prominent.

“I blow up easily. I’m a bitch. You wouldn’t believe how mean I was to Crimson when we first met. Hell, even months into knowing the guy, I still treated him like shit. Worst of all… a-and I hate to admit this… the things I’ve done would have gotten him killed if he was a regular human. I just… I owe him more than just my life, yet I treated him so fucking badly...”

“I feel like it was a self-defense mechanism so that you wouldn’t become attached to him. I… I wasn’t mean to him, it was the complete opposite. I didn’t use anger to keep my emotions at bay. I… I only ever wanted him to take care of himself, but he would always come back terribly wounded after his expeditions with the Guard. He didn’t listen to me… and then, one day, he was just… gone. I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling, so I-- ...”

Dahlia’s expression falls for concern.

“… I… resorted to… hurting myself.”

“… Is that what that bucket was in the restroom?”

“Y-- … You saw that?” she asks, her timid voice coated with embarrassment.

“… Yeah. That’s… hardcore, Moonlight. Even I’ve never done something like that, and I’ve definitely considered killing myself more than once.”

“… I’m sorry…”

“No, Moonlight. Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about. And you know what? You deserve way better. A pony like you shouldn’t have to be hurting the pain away. I know this is all surface-level talk, but I feel like the things I’ve heard about you are true. You aren’t some stuck-up prick from a rich family. You really are somepony who cares about those around you. Not some fake bullshit like some ponies we might know put up. You’re true from the heart out. I couldn’t imagine being that way. I’m… a fucking jagged piece of broken glass compared to you.”

“It’s strange that you say that. I wish I could be more like you... not afraid to voice her mind.”

“That’s funny, because I wish I could be more like you. I wish I could control my anger and be… nice. As nice as you are. As nice as you’ve been to me. Like, I literally broke into your house, and you offered me coffee. If that doesn’t say something about you, then nothing will.”

With hearts upon their sleeves, they now gaze into each other’s eyes with something bubbling inside them. Between the both of them, it becomes obvious that Dahlia is not sure what to do with these feelings. Moonlight takes the reigns and sucks in a deep breath.

“I can see why Crimson would say that he loves you,” Moonlight murmurs. The blush on Dahlia’s face shimmers. “You’re not broken glass. You’re… like a diamond in the rough. And if I can see that, then I’m certain he can. As difficult it is for you to be affectionate, it’ll come over time if you keep trying. Like Crimson told you, I wanted to be a teacher. Being patient and affectionate was something my mom placed on the top shelf. It naturally bled into me being this way, and my desire to be a teacher. … If nothing else, please watch me. If you need somepony to guide or teach you how to be… affectionate, then I’m more than happy to be there for you.”

Dahlia’s chest feels made of lead. The mental burden weighing down on her at this moment can only be eased by peeling at her pride, just as the unicorn at her side has done. “I… I need to tell you this. I feel like I’m gonna freak out if I don’t.”

Moonlight nods encouragingly.

“… I was… I was extremely jealous of you when I first saw you. I… I got so angry. But I didn’t let Crimson know. See, not long ago, before the whole fucked up situation at Canterlot, we were working with the Horseshoes.”

“You whaa…?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s… it’s a really long story. We’ll get there eventually, but… when we were working for them, one of the things they made us do is take a mind spell that let us see through that Magnifying dude’s eyes for a bit.”

“Hwaa!? That’s… that’s incredible! H-How--?” She sees the bored expression grow upon Dahlia’s face, prompting her to apologize and stay quiet.

“Yeah, well, anyways… the first time I saw you and learned what you looked like was when the Horseshoes put that spell on us. That nerd guy went to visit you and… there you were. I saw you and I was… so damn jealous. I almost snapped at Crimson for no reason. I have no clue how I held it in. You’re so damn pretty, it’s unfair. Your face, your eyes, your colors, your… your ass!”

Moonlight’s eyes widen as her pupils become grains of sand.

“Yeah, I said it! You have a big ass, Moonlight, and a pretty little face, and your colors are pretty, and… just! You’re pretty! And it made me jealous! I was jealous! Okay!? I’m sorry!”

The shock that pulses through Moonlight is quick to settle when Dahlia vents. A cherry blush makes itself right at home across her muzzle and cheeks.

“… I don’t know how I held it in. I think I said some dumb shit like ‘she doesn’t look like much.’ Hugh, I feel like such a stupid bitch..."

"Y-You’re… you’re really pretty too.”

Dahlia’s muzzle scrunches, glaring hypercritically at the unicorn who compliments her.

“… Your eyes are such a beautiful shade of magenta, just like the flower in your name. Your coat is really unique. I have never met a pony with a tan coat. It compliments your eyes and hair. You… you are very pretty, Dahlia. Prettier than I imagined you in my head. I-I know that’s a really weird thing to say, but… I spent more nights I’d like to admit just imagining what you looked like.” She chuckles, letting her hears fall against her head. “It’s so strange. From the very start of knowing Crimson, he would always talk about you and kept trying to find you. He was always concerned for you. And now you’re here, with me. I’ll happily admit that I was jealous too. I even asked him if he’d abandon me to stay with you once he found you.”

“Are you serious? He always made me think the opposite. It’s like you were this goddess to him. Everything related to you was sacred to that guy.”

“Hnh.” Moonlight squirms, her body suddenly feeling very hot. “N-No, it… it seemed like he thought of you that way.” After she says this, she suddenly lifts her glittering gaze from the couch to Dahlia in such a manner that almost startles the pegasus. “C-Can… can I… ask you… s-something?”

The anticipation Dahlia feels is so thick she has to swallow it before saying, “S-Sure…”

“Uhmm… h-how do I word this. I’m… um… w-well, you and I-- … we are-- … I feel like we… compliment. Each other. I… think you’re pretty, and I have a lot to learn from you. I’ve enjoyed your company. I-I hope you feel the same about me.”

“Ss-Spit it out, would ya’?”

“I’m—” Moonlight stops. She takes a deep breath. She holds it in and puffs her chest out. She puts up the sternest face she possible can before she speaks. “I’m interested in pursuing a relationship with you and him simultaneously!”

“Ghahaah?” Dahlia pulls her head back, pupils shrunken to pricks.

“T-Think about it! I’m like you! A-And you’re like me! I know the feelings you feel! If he were to leave me, a-and not love me, I’d—I’d— … I’d rather not elaborate on the harm I’d inflict upon myself if he was taken away! A-At the same time, the last thing I want to do is inflict that pain upon somepony else! Especially a pony like you! S-So please, I beg that you at least consider it!”

Dahlia, appearing to be stuck in a mental limbo, gawks dumbfounded at the desperate, nearly crying unicorn. Moonlight glares back, slowly losing hope due to her silence. “… Hh--,” the tan pegasus croaks out before clearing her throat. Even this failed attempt at speaking encourages Moonlight. “… H-How should we tell him?”

Moonlight's darkening depression is banished into sunshine and singing fowl. A smile forms and expands until it is ear to ear. “R-Really!?” Dahlia nods cautiously, though still holding a genuine smile. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“C-Come on, Moonlight! We need to plan this!”

“Ah! Y-Yes! Right!” Having to suppress the bottled rocket that has become her excitement, Moonlight sucks in a long, deep breath of clarity and thought. “I-If we want to plan this effectively, I must know one very important detail...”

“... And that is...?”

“Are you interested in... m-marriage?”

Dahlia’s flustered face shimmers at the question, know its deep-rooted implications. “... Are you?” Moonlight nods to the counter-question. “... Then I am too.”

The unicorn gasps happily. “Yay!”

“But what does that have to with breaking the news to our guy? What are we gonna tell him?”

“... Oh.” Moonlight deflates slightly. “I, um... I honestly have no idea.”

“Ghk!-- C’mon, Moonlight! Come up with something! I don’t know how to do this shit!”

“U-Uhm, umm, mm…” She frantically thinks for something, anything, that they could say. Finally something pops into mind. “W-What if we wait for him in my room? That should give us bracing time once he returns. Th-Then, we can sit him down and explain everything.”

“I’m not good at explaining my feelings, Moonlight…”

“T-That’s okay. I can explain everything for you. Would that be okay?” Dahlia shifts her eyes to the left at nothing, letting the unicorn’s offer hover around her head. The guilt she feels due to relying on Moonlight so heavily is eased when the mare herself reach out to place a gentle hoof on her shoulder. “I’m happy to do this for us, Dahlia.”

Dahlia clenches her teeth, attempting to keep her emotion away from her tear ducts. She locks eyes with Moonlight and nods twice. At this approval, the unicorn delivers a smile with enough love to bring chills from her head to her hooves.

Moonlight admires the glistening orbs of the pegasus dearly. When she catches Dahlia’s inability to speak up or add anything further, she coos gently, “Did you want to go upstairs with me? I’ll keep working on the watch while we wait for him to get back.”

Again, Dahlia nods without words. She sniffles and begins to rise from the couch. Moonlight follows suit and guides her to the bedroom.

‎

‎

~ Equestria, Moonlight’s Home ~<
April 13th, Thursday, 17:50

‎

A slightly bitter airs surrounds Crimson's spirit at his unsuccessful venture. He figures he could waited longer for Dahlia to arrive, but the existence of his deadline looms over him. He finds himself wanting to plan ahead for the next place to search for her, but there is a current matter more pressing than this.

Knowing that the sun is well on its way down, Crimson kicks it into double-time to arrive back at his agreed upon timeframe. He starts to conjure excuses in his head in the event that he is late. He sure hopes it does not come to that, but he cannot think of any other way to explain the fact that he sat next to a grave for several hours having a one-way conversation. Maybe she will understand, considering the subject matter, but he still would rather not resort to that.

Instead of making up excuses, he stands on the decision to make it on time. And if he is going to do that, he will need to push himself. He has never tried to fly faster than he currently is, considering he is already moving at an alarming speed. He figures his body can handle it, but it may not fair well in the event he loses control and takes a swing at the ground.

He contemplates this dilemma for the better part of a few seconds. He agrees with himself that an angry Moonlight is not worth it. So with the lack of better judgement, he furls his wings forward in front of himself. Quicker than a blink of the eyes, he flaps his wings once with intense power. His back muscles strain from the energy needed, but--

FwOOOOM!

His cheeks wobble frantically as his eyes squint against the pressure of his ridiculously heightened velocity. His speed reaches the several-hundreds of miles an hour. A cone of visible air encompasses him as he abuses the sound barrier.

He steadily slows down to his previous pace. He assesses his body without stopping his flight. He reaches to his face. No damage.

He begins to understand something very important. Now that his gift is running naturally and not painfully strained as before, everything he does just seems to… work. These intense bursts of speed do not harm in any way. In fact, they feel good to perform, if a bit straining on his back.

…

Again.

FwBOOOOOOM!

He held his face stern as he performed it again, and this time, with even greater power. He slowly returns to his regular speed once more.

It is certainly exhilarating to say the least. He finds contentment new-found technique. He wonders briefly if what he is doing might cause alarm to the world below, as the sound emitting from ripping the sound-barrier is astonishingly loud. Though, he encourages himself to continue when he eyes the grey clouds underneath him. He supposes he can act as if what he is doing is simply thunder.

He continues this less-than sane method of locomotion until he nears his destination.

‎

~~~<

‎

Not a moment too soon, Crimson falls upon the grass of the backyard in Moonlight’s home. His landing was less gracious than before, feeling somewhat winded from the exertion, so catches himself with all fours.

He rises with a grunt, letting out a breath. He runs his nails back through his hair to try and fix the mess it has become. He marches to the sliding glass door, noticing a folded towel left on the carpet of the living room right before the door. Silently appreciating the gesture, he opens the door, picks up the towel, and begins to wipe himself down. Once he is mostly dry, he steps in all the way and closes the door.

He finds himself a little disappointed when Moonlight does not come to greet him like yesterday. In fact, it is quiet. A little too quiet.

“Moonlight?” Crimson calls with a raised voice and a hand next to his mouth.

“Upstairs!”

The mare responds from above. A smile of comfort forms at hearing her voice. He throws the towel over his damp hair, covering most of his head and vision. He keeps an eye on the floor as he trails down the hall, over to the staircase, and up towards her bedroom door, which is mostly closed without a gap to peek through. He happily and confidently pushes it open, taking off the towel from his head to greet—

“Ah-- …” He starts but stops immediately. Two pairs of yearning eyes, one pink and one red, look up to him as he freezes at the doorway. Crimson feels his guts nearly pour out of his mouth – his hand unwillingly lets go of the towel it was holding. His left eye twitches, feeling as if his brain was smoothed over with concrete. “… What in the god damn…?”