We Need to Talk.

Nicholas had been waiting for Mind in his own little world, trios of red marks grazing up and down, back and forth, all looping in and out. Never certain of their path.

Nick wasn't even sure what here was.

Mind's voice was upon Nick's ears, popping in and out of from their exile whenever the time felt right.

Shall.

We.

Begin?

...

His eyes opened slow as a light so fierce gave him a headache, washing over him so brightly it stung.

Nick felt something odd, like he was not well.

And, he was back.

Here.

This may not be the town ge was born in, but it was where he was raised.

"When did I get here?", he spoke with a voice distinctly not his own.

Feminine.

Young.

Pausing, he glanced down into a nearby puddle, astonishment clear as day as he was now face-to-face with Duwell.

Not on the ground.

Is this some form of trick?

Pulling and stretching and smushing his face, he grew concerned by these developments, saying openly, "This doesn't seem good."

...

"This doesn't seem good," Duwell heard from her own lips as she now found herself jumped into Nick's body, still a tad panicked to say anything.

The panic grew as Farewell approached.

But, she didn't have her eyes on Duwell, who inhabited Nick's form. She had them on the copy of her filly self. So, she was less worried.

Still worried, but less.

Less worried. Less worried. Less worried.

I said the words three times. Why does it feel wrong?

Ugh. Now, I feel even more stressed out for some reason. It just needs to be right.

Correct. Cor-rec-t. Cor-rect?

No, no. Correct. Correct. Correct.

Still a number divisible by three. Why do I dislike the number three? I like math. I like counting.

Or, do I? Do I? Do I?

Duwell sat against the wall, lost in her thoughts as Farewell spoke kindly to her copy.

...

Nick was very confused still. He had just noticed himself, who was also younger. But, he wasn't in his body, and his body wasn't doing anything other than mumbling to itself. And, now saw this pony, whose name he didn't even recollect, asking him questions as though he knew the answer.

Mad for a reason that escaped his thoughts, Nick spoke in irritation, "I'm not Duwell, ma'am."

Farewell's half-lidded eyes widened in interest before asking, "Oh? Oh, no. I suppose I'm wrong here? No, no. Dear, it's mom. M-o-m. And, you very well know that. Save those acting roles for another day. We need to head home. Before we are bombarded by the paparazzi!"

Nick was going to just leave before being picked up by Farewell, sealing his fateful retreat into a useless fumbling for the ground.

...

Duwell snapped herself out of her own thoughts to note that her mother simply stole the copy!

And, as if on time, a pony Duwell had never met before in her life walked slowly up to greet her, even asking how her day went.

Duwell guessing by her prior knowledge on Nick guessed this was his mother.

Shrugging, Duwell asked, "What's your name...mom?"

The taste of that last word was honestly bitter. Almost no sweetness in it.

The pony with dark blue body and white colored mane sighed as she stated once more, "Hone. We've been over this. It's Know. And, no. I will not say it again. Or, past three times, so it sticks in your head. We gotta go. Your brother's at Zaed's house."

Huh. Her name really doesn't fit her color scheme. Odd.

But, she did feel a bit of herself get happier at the prospect of seeing Zaed.

So, gratefully took the older pony's hoof as they walked through town.