As Wild approached cafeteria, a memory hit him.

When he was still an angry child, he was dreaming of a moment when, perhaps, he would return to school in triumph, in power. When those he disliked would bow to him, kneeling before him, and those he wanted to like him would want to be with him and praise him. When he had all the power and could use it for anything that he could ever want.

Now, he was returning with power inside of him, and, in a way, triumphant over adversity. However, it was different to how he, as a child, imagined it would be. There was no more burning anger, the intensity of which had sometimes scared even him. There was no more desire to be on top of everyone and everything, no want to be superior. He knew he could use his newfound powers to make others submit to him and all his whims, but he knew it was not what he truly wanted, and, had he tried to make it a reality thinking that it was what he wanted, he would only amplify his own misery.

He knew he would be angry again, just like everyone else. However, the anger at his past, at people who used to surround him then, people who he had, at one point, despised and hated with what felt like every fiber of his being... it was reduced now, fading into the back of his mind, still present but no longer as apparent and sharp as before. He was surprised to find out that even the anger at those who had hurt him severely was not nearly as clear and intense and all-consuming. He realized that this was now behind him, and he was ready, as much as he could perhaps ever be, to move on. Part of him wanted to hold on, but he knew it would not serve any positive purpose. He had wallowed enough in his misery.

Wild had previously imagined that he would be left with nothing if he allowed his anger to go away, if he didn’t hold onto it with all that he had. Anger was what had kept him alive, what had kept him going despite everything. With it reduced so much that sometimes it felt like it was gone, he thought it would leave him feeling hollow. However, that was not what he felt, and what he felt was... something else.

Wild wished he had his Atlas of Emotions with him, he imagined it would’ve been helpful in figuring out what it was that he was actually feeling. Perhaps it could be described as relief, but he believed it wasn’t quite right. He knew it wasn’t happiness or any sort of elation...

And then it hit him. It was peace. Or, at least, peace as he understood it. Or not quite peace, but it was close enough that it could may as well be. He knew there was still more he would have to face in the future, but he was genuinely, undeniably, doing better. His life, aside from a few events, was not full of adversity and hostility anymore. He now had power to make certain he would not be defenseless when something bad would happen again, and this feeling of not being helpless anymore was... not exciting, not quite, and it was not happiness, and... he had a feeling he knew what it was, but it slipped away from him as he tried to decipher its meaning.

Three times, no, four times he had already recovered after bad events that would have previously rendered him entirely hopeless. The Changeling Invasion, he survived it, and not only that, but he avoided any long-term injury, and no one he cared about died - no one died at all, in fact. The Nightmare that had tried to rip him apart to take his body for themselves, he survived it as well, and gained power from that event as well. He had come back stronger, able to do more. He was, of course, now aware of the limits of his... spirit form, but he should’ve known that all things had limits, including himself, especially himself. He had long since learned that he was anything but all-powerful. However, despite knowing that his spirit form wasn’t what he wished it was, he knew he had fewer limits now than when he was a human in flesh and blood. The Alicorn Amulet Incident had passed quickly and had gained him even more power, and now he had enough of it to stand entirely on his own. Or, perhaps, not entirely, considering that he still had yet to learn how to use it properly. Princess Luna had promised him more lessons, and he was eagerly looking forward to it. And the fourth time...

Wild recognized that the fourth time was actually the first, yet it encompassed it all. He had died, and he was now recovering from it, and he had been recovering from it all along. He realized that death was nothing to scoff at, and only recently had he begun to truly appreciate the new life he had been given. He was still learning how to approach it with less hesitation, and to allow himself not just to survive but to live and, possibly, maybe, perhaps, eventually he would thrive.

Wild let this thought remain in his mind, and a small smile appeared on his face. He was not lost. Not entirely, not irrecoverably, not without the possibility of return to some sense of normality. He might have been broken, but the pieces remained, and he was bringing them back together into a whole. Perhaps he would never be whom he could have been had he not gone through what he had, but he could learn to live with what he had.

With those thoughts in his head, Wild entered the cafeteria of the Royal Orphanage. He was noticed almost immediately, his friends waving him over from where they sat. He was thankful that, at least to his knowledge, no one else knew of what had happened, so there wasn’t attention aimed at him from everyone else like it was after his recovery following the Changeling Invasion. He trotted over to Precision, Swingblade, and Artful, not bothering to get the food first since he had already eaten. Once he got close enough, he could see that his bodily changes had not evaded his friends’ attention, and he could almost physically feel their eyes going over his now-intact left ear and his noticeably longer horn.

“Wow,” Artful breathed out, bringing blush to Wild’s cheeks as he sat down.

“Oh, you’ve grown some in magical power, neat,” Precision commented as well, “Congratulations!”

Wild nodded to her, not really knowing what to say to that. Perhaps some congratulations were in order for him - after all, his actions were more or less purposeful when he stopped Trixie and took the Amulet from her. So, in a sense, he deserved it.

“So, what happened?” Swingblade asked, “We heard there was a crazed unicorn in Ponyville and you took them down,” he eyed Wild’s horn, “Did you eat them to get their power or something?”

Wild couldn’t help it, he snorted at the thought of that happening. In all fairness, he didn’t want anyone to treat what happened to him as doom and gloom, so he was glad to hear someone joke about it. After all, it was absolutely nothing in comparison to, well, other things. He wanted to put that encounter behind himself anyway, considering that he had benefited from it, and the benefits, in his mind, were worth much more than what he had experienced. Some days of being bored while stuck in a tower? All while given food, water, use of bathroom, and a good bed to sleep on under a roof? He knew just how much those things mattered, and he would never again take them for granted.

“It was... a unicorn doing bad things,” Wild said as he figured out how to explain it without giving too many things away, “I stopped them, they had a power artifact, and... things happened that made changes to me.”

“Maybe we should all go around searching for crazed unicorns,” Precision chuckled, “Wouldn’t mind a longer horn myself.”

“Would I get a horn?” Swingblade asked.

“You want to become an alicorn? No chance.”

“I’m fine as I am,” Artful joined the conversation.

“No offense dude, but you’re wearing glasses,” Swingblade pointed out, “Magic stuff would fix it right up. Can't imagine having to deal with blurry vision, honestly.”

“Oh, I don’t, um, actually need glasses,” Artful said somewhat shyly, “I, well, needed them before, but now I, uh, just like how they look, so yeah.”

Wild could admit that he liked how Artful looked with glasses on. Glasses added some... cuteness, perhaps. Besides, they added something to his expression that made it, even if not better, then somehow... more. More expressive, maybe? Wild wasn’t exactly sure about that - judging someone’s handsomeness wasn’t something he had ever really practiced. If anyone asked him, he wouldn’t be able to point out what he liked about someone’s appearance specifically. Definitely not at a glance, at the very least.

Wild thought of complimenting Artful, telling him that he did look good with glasses on, but the words couldn’t make it past his lips, and the only sign that he even thought of it was a light blush on his face.

Wild briefly wondered whether this sort of thing was what regular ponies experienced when they were growing up, this whole... wondering about someone’s looks. Even now, Wild was feeling somewhat restrained in his thoughts, as if there was still danger for him should he express his sexuality out in the open in any way whatsoever. Wild knew he got lucky with his family - both his mother and his father accepted him, after all. He also knew that others would not have accepted him nearly as readily if at all had they known.

Wild mentally pushed all those thoughts away. Why would they matter now when he was no longer on Earth? He would no longer have to deal with having to hide himself, at least when it came to who he liked in the love side of the things.

“Fair enough, I guess,” Swingblade replied to Artful, and Wild was broken out of his brief internal tangent, “But yeah, if I could get something changed about my body, I’d take that.”

“Like what?” Artful asked, suddenly more attentive.

“Uuuh, maybe make myself a bit taller,” Swingblade said, “Wings a bit bigger. Maybe... some other parts,” he winked.

“You’re gonna have to deal with your fifth leg yourself if it’s gonna be long enough to drag on the floor,” Precision told him dryly.

“Not that long, sheesh.”

“I mean, if you want to be great in bed, I heard having it long and thick isn’t great,” Precision said, “Makes it uncomfortable.”

“Just heard?” Swingblade raised an eyebrow.

Wild fidgeted in place slightly, but he no longer was as uncomfortable about this kind of conversation as he would have been before. He had spent quite a bit of his free time during his stay in Canterlot looking at all the various erotic pictures. He even read through a few stories that were, as far as he could understand, just written pornography. So, in some ways, he was more ready to face sexual kind of talk without cringing away. However, he didn’t particularly want for this kind of talk to continue for much longer. Thankfully, he didn’t feel any serious urge to run away from it all. All he had was a blush, and it appeared Artful was in about the same state.

This all reminded Wild that he needed to finish that book about sexuality education. He had read some more of it during his stay at the Canterlot Castle - and he would not admit out loud that he spent more time reading erotica - but the progress had been relatively slow. Besides, he... did want to know something more about the... action itself. Reawakening of his own sexual desires had pushed him in that direction, and he found himself actually liking this turn of events.

“I can tell you aren’t getting any,” Precision smirked at Swingblade, “You know, it’s not really about the size but how you use it.”

It was then that a young mare about Precision’s age approached the group, having just entered the cafeteria.

“Hey, P,” she greeted Precision, “What’s up? I can hear dick discussion goin’ on.”

“Hey, Peebs,” Precision returned the greeting, then placed a small kiss on the other mare’s cheek, “Everyone, this is Pebbles, my fillyfriend, she’s from Ponyville. Peebs, you know Swingblade, and these two are Artful and Wild.”

Pebbles was a unicorn mare of black mane and gray green-tinted fur with a bunch of what Wild would call freckles in darker gray scattered all over her face, chest, and flanks. However, those weren't freckles since they weren't on skin, but then Wild had no idea what else to call them, and he had already given up on figuring out how pony coloration worked because a whole lot of odd things were apparently perfectly natural for a pony to have. Her mane looked carelessly perfect, in Wild’s opinion, and it was relatively low over the eyes, hiding their green ever so slightly in the shadow. Now that Wild thought about her name, it somewhat made sense - the freckles did resemble smooth pebbles.

The most important detail that he caught was that she was from Ponyville. He hadn’t been paying too much attention, so he wondered if he missed other ponies from outside the Royal Orphanage visiting. But then it made sense - surely some couples or triples or other families would sometimes visit, looking to adopt? And the ponies here would also want to have friends from outside the orphanage. He had to admit that he hadn't really been paying attention to that kind of thing, so it was no surprise it slipped by him until he had to face it personally.

Wild took a mental note to explore more of the outside world. Ponyville seemed like a decent start, considering that he had already visited it twice, even if the last time turned out to be... odd.

“Swingblade, baby, if you want to get pegged, you coulda just asked,” Pebbles sat down heavily near the young stallion, “Any size, any girth you want.”

“I, uh...” Swingblade stuttered as his face was overcome with a blush, to everyone’s amusement, “Um, no, thank you.”

“A shame,” Pebbles sighed dejectedly, “Well, can’t get ‘em all. Any of you stallions want in on the action?”

“I am gay,” Wild said immediately, without much thinking. Besides, he did not want to think about getting... pounded, be it by someone wearing a strapon or, as it were, naturally. At least, he didn’t want to think about it now. In the future, perhaps he would consider it if he ever got a partner he would feel safe enough to do it with, and even then he wasn't particularly certain.

As far as he was concerned, the conversation had grown a little bit too awkward for him. The ponies, in his opinion, were far too open about sexual things. Not that he believed it was truly a problem, it had simply remained... jarring, for him. A cultural difference he did not know when he would get used to, if ever.

“I am gay too,” Artful added.

Pebbles seemed to be thoughtful for a moment.

“Yep,” she turned to Precision, “I see that,” she then turned to Swingblade, “You know you’re outnumbered, right? Like, four out of five people here are gay.”

Wild was confused - had Pebbles not just flirted with Swingblade? He would think that this would make her... bisexual, was the word. Or perhaps some other word - he couldn’t really remember. Or was the word ‘gay’ also used as a general sort of term for people who weren’t straight? That was another thing for him to explore.

“More mares for me, then,” Swingblade joked, “Then you will be outnumbered.”

"Well, we two are mares, y'know," Pebbles gestured at herself and Precision, "What if we take all the mares? You know your line doesn't work with us lesbians, right?"

"Ah, yeah," Swingblade said, his expression somewhat sheepish, "But I will still get mares."

“Mares? Plural? Someone's dreaming of a harem, I see,” Precision teased him, “Not gonna happen. Well, you could try a poly relationship, though that’s different.”

“You’ve to write it all down and keep track of who’s with who and how, though,” Pebbles said, “M’friend Cake says you must assemble a damn council from time to time to decide stuff.”

The image that came to Wild's head almost made him laugh out loud. The Council of Love. It sounded absolutely ridiculous, and yet it made a certain amount of sense in the context. However, he couldn't help but imagine a round table, a bunch of people sitting at it, solemn and way too serious expressions on their faces.

“You think the Pillars were a polycule?” Artful asked in interest. Wild thought it came out of nowhere, and what or who were the Pillars?

“The Pillars? Eeeeh they could have been,” Pebbles answered, “With Star Swirl, you never know. The stallion’s fucked like half the world. Maybe he settled later in life with his 'very close friends', wink wink nudge nudge," she emoted as she said those words, then shrugged, "Who knows, really.”

Wild, by this time, had no idea what they were talking about except that Star Swirl had come up again with his... sexual ways. Wild was amazed at how nonchalant everyone was being about an old figure of history having had sex with many. If Wild were honest with himself, he would certainly find what Star Swirl had done rather impressive in its own right. Of course, he was mostly known for his magical feats in both theory and practice, but erasing many known STDs was a very impressive achievement.

It was still baffling to be reminded of that small tidbit of history.

"We kinda strayed from the important stuff," Precision said, "Wild, sleepover’s still on the able?”

Wild had to restart his brain a little to remember that, yes, he did want a sleepover, even though having one still somewhat... made him a bit afraid. Or perhaps not exactly afraid because he knew nothing bad would happen, but he couldn’t really help but feel like something would anyway. However, he was not going to back down, he did not want to back down.

Besides, this was a safer topic of conversation than any of the sexual things. He had managed to sit through it all, not wound like a spring, not feeling like he was squeezed from all sides and ready to shatter into a million pieces. He had to admit that it felt... nice, to be near a conversation where things that had previously seriously bothered him were discussed.

Wild, in the end, nodded.

“Would you be against Pebbles joining us?” Precision asked.

“It’s fine,” he shrugged. He didn’t particularly want her to join, considering that he didn’t know her, but he also trusted that Precision wouldn’t want to mess with him by bringing someone who would be... unsafe or uncomfortable to be around with. So far, he wasn't objecting to Pebbles' personality, at least.

“In that case, may I bring Jade?” Artful asked, and Wild nodded to him. Jade was a safe choice, and he had already slept with them around.

This sleepover had suddenly grown, but he had found himself not overly bothered by it. From what he knew, ponies loved their... cuddle piles. Wild had briefly experienced a bit of it, and, now that he could be honest with himself, he wanted more of it. That sort of touch was very welcome indeed, and he knew it would help him get over his residual fear of being touched. It was no massage, obviously, but then he doubted he would get one again anytime soon, considering how last time had turned out. Ponyville, according to the rumors he had heard over all the time he had been in the orphanage, was considered somewhat chaotic, at least for the last year or so. If that was true, perhaps it would be for the best if he didn’t show up again for... some time. He had enough troubles for a lifetime, he wouldn’t mind some peace and quiet instead. While he did want to visit it because it was a close-by place away from the Royal Orphanage where he could perhaps expand... his social circle, maybe, he also didn’t want to get into trouble yet again. However, knowing how things tended to do, perhaps trouble would find him instead no matter where he was at the time.

“By the way, Wild, since you missed the Canterlot trip and all, maybe we should all go together on one, should be easy to organize,” Precision suggested, “None of us went anyway since you couldn’t.”

“We thought it’d be better to wait for you to recover so that we all can have the same experience,” Artful added.

Wild thought for a moment, then nodded. He was aware he missed the trip, but he didn’t bring it up since there were more important things on his mind, and he didn’t exactly have that big of a desire to visit it while he was recovering in its very center. Not that being in Canterlot allowed him to see the city except from the windows in his tower, and perhaps, finally, he would walk the city like an official visitor and not either as a spirit or someone who was hurt.

As he was about to say that he agreed, words stuck in his throat when he realized that they decided to wait for him.

They could have had their trip, but he was important enough to them that they decided not to go.

He... didn’t know what to say about that. He ended up nodding to their suggestion as he held back whatever noise was trying to escape the depths of him.

He let the warmth of realization that they cared about him to wash over him and focused on keeping his attention on the conversation as it continued. When it was over, he would go to his dorm, pick up the Atlas of Emotions, find out what he felt, and then have some time... for himself. As small as this thing seemed to be, it elicited... something inside of him, something big, and he would need to figure out what it was before he... probably cried.

Whatever it was, he would find out. For now, he would sit among his friends as well as another person he met and rest in the safety of friendship.

Author's Note

Swingblade right then: