Lightning Bug

If you were Anonymous in Equestria, everypony knew more or less all they needed to about you. Handy fellow to have around, good for odd jobs, potential babysitter of the year. What was one Anon from another? They all had the tell-tale green shade, the question mark where it counted.

You might find yourself correcting often. "I'm not that Anon. I'm this Anon." And they would ask "What's the difference?"

"The difference is," the reply would come, "that Anon is that Anon. And I'm this Anon."

The finer points of this articulation were lost on many ponies.

Every Anonymous got their own welcome party on arrival to Equestria, where they more or less got to know everypony in their new place of residence and opened up any flirtatious pathways to harem endings they'd been fiending for while still trapped in the desolate kingdom of reality. After a while in Equestria, you got used to welcome parties, or Pinkie Pie trampled you with them over and over until you had no choice but to like them, and it was probably easier in that case to walk the path of least resistance.

You noticed her the first night there. 'Noticed' in the way particular to glances from across the room, flirting but never meeting, the uncertain dance that happens when a dancer from your dreams walks into the world in front of you. That is to say, when you saw her from across the room, through the crowd of ponies and party favours and the punch line and the DJ booth, you were almost certain she wasn't real—was a painting on the wall, or some figure from a vision that had only just come to be from a waking dream, and would vanish just as quickly. But when you stared, there she remained, and when she looked back, there was no substitute for the heat in your head, the flurry of butterflies and overwhelming nervousness that swept through your body.

It was a moment of 'her'. Something outside the self that belongs at the end of a long, brilliant tunnel. Or a star, flickering alone into the night.

There was no chance to say 'hello'. As soon as you'd noticed her, there was no more trace, and you spent the rest of the night poking between packs of ponies and seeing if any of them could identify the slender bat-pony who had vanished like a secret.

There was that about her: a physical description, translated to words, would be as insubstantial as her presence. But she reminded you of the haze just before night-time, when the sun has its final rosy fingers clenched to the horizon and is nudged by the moon into the veil of twilight—a swirling gradient tinged at the edges with light-blue, forget-me-nots blooming in a light and delicate coat. Her mane was the same silver as the moonlight, and the single look into her eyes showed the same, like a crystal pool, a tide of mercury that begged for you to swim and drown in it.

There was nothing fierce about her—nothing violent or hungry—but the pull you felt in your chest was all-consuming, and for a moment your mind blanketed you in the vision of an explorer, a dangerous mountain-top, and a delicate flower, poised on the edge of a perilous crevasse. A single drop of rain, falling from a black cloud overhead.

That was the first time you saw her. It was then you promised yourself there would be a second time.

***

There was therefore no such thing as coincidence when you saw her again, at another welcoming party, the very next day, in fact. You'd asked around, gotten mostly insubstantial information on the general presence of batponies in the community, but no one who seemed to be able to identify her by anything other than the colour of her coat and the metallic tinge of her mane. Oh, and her cutie mark, which in your haste you'd only recorded in the back of your mind: a timid-looking lightning-bug, swept up in a swirl of wind.

That was how you noticed her again, and how you made your way through the crowd like a cruiser parting the ocean, until she was only feet away, then inches, then so close you could practically reach out and touch her, or the bowl of punch next to her. She looked more casual this time, more relaxed, leaning against the table and cheerfully smiling at the crowd, not talking to anyone but enjoying the sensation of crowd and community all the same. You considered clearing your throat, but given the volume of the music, opted for a more direct approach.

You tapped her on the shoulder, and when she turned, the look on her face became a snapshot in a heart-locked you made plans to keep. Still open, innocent, adorable, but just the hint of 'who might actually want to talk to me' that made her unaware, maybe even a little taken aback. But she smiled warmly when she noticed it was someone genuinely looking for her attention instead of just bumping by, and you smiled back at her, and that was a handshake that was recorded by some page in history going forward.

"Hi," you said. "I recognized you from the last party. I'm Anon." You gestured awkwardly to the question mark, hoping to spring a memory in the potential haze of new arrivals and their subsequent welcoming events. She studied you for a moment, then seemed to step backwards in time, awareness creeping into her expression, then a small gasp of acknowledgement.

"Oh," she said, with a voice like the whispered song of a hidden bird. "I remember you. How are you?"

"Good," you said. Now that I've run into you again, you didn't say.

It wasn't necessary to say anything else, in your opinion. Just to enjoy the moment you found her, whether or not there was anything in the future or any meaning to the past. You felt like a pebble in the current of a river, maybe only clinging to the shore for seconds before being swept away again.

"My name's Glimmer Wing," the batpony said. She gave you a soft curtsy, though she wasn't wearing anything, and the tiny tuck of her wings and bow of her head made your heart jump like it'd be thrown off a trampoline.

"Your cutie mark," you said, nodding to the lightning bug on her flank that was looking cuter by the second. "Does that mean you're real bright?"

"It means I'm good at finding things that are hidden," she said, and then giggled.

Turns out, so were you.