Let me begin. I was born in Trottingham, a larger fishing settlement occupying the Griffish Isles, and this is where I spent most of my early life.
As I was growing up, my mother and father were far from the most well-off ponies in town, but we certainly weren't poor either. My mother took occupation in a canning factory and my father in fishing, the townships defining tradition and export. Just as I was becoming a stallion myself I joined in this tradition and helped to fish myself, catching a mentorship under one Bucktooth aboard an end-of-her-days trawler, something I attribute now to a bulk of my real world experiences and who I became in the end. Bucktooth and his other crewmates were always good to me, but never nice, treating me with respect and making sure I learned what I needed to to do my job, but not treating me like a kid. At first it felt harsh, but I'll admit as I got used to the environment and the daily struggles it felt morelike a relief, to be finally away from the coddling my mother in particular was so keen to shove unto me. As a foal, I have a fairly serious bout of bronchitis, an affliction that may or may not be still around, as to this day even in my true adulthood leaves me lungs feeling weak if I ever strain myself too hard. While this holds little relevance to my story, I hope it helps you to understand that my time aboard the trawler was never perfectly smooth sailing.
My crewmates took more time to warm up to me than Bucktooth, but with time all barriers fall. As we worked we had many a conversation about many things. Sometimes these conversations would be about the job itself, or something logical like getting to know eachother, but often it would evolve (or devolve) into the most random of tangents as we pulled up the lines. One day in particular I look back on fondly was when Barnum asked about time travel and what the realistic implications and limitations of it would be. Many know the rumor of actual time travel spells existing, but any "proof" attributed to these theories are almost always connected to one offhoofed comment Princess Twilight made in a private interview, the likes of which was never officially documented, and so we debate. Through all of our chatter, Backwater eventually came to the punctual conclusion "If you go back in time to stop something from happening, you wouldn't grow up with the memory of it happening, so you couldn't go back to stop it." Captivating, that was.
We weren't the most efficient trawler crew out there, but even still, we had fun doing it and we all got by. That's more than can be said for my father, at least in the first department. For a few years at the start of my career I still lived at home and everyday my father would have something to complain about. My mother would always try to console him and sometimes it would work, but not everyday, and by Celestia you would know when it didn't. He wasn't a yeller, but his tone always carried the same weight. He'd always blame his failures in the princesses, his boss, or really any other authority figure he could think of. He hated being talked down to and his dream was always to start his own company. Of course, growing up around him, some of this manifesto became how I thought as well. Nowadays I'd like to think I'm better than that, able to take responsibility for my own actions, but even still a subtle resentment stays with me.
You, reader, may think this petty and uneducated, but even if the princesses aren't intentionally malicious, they're at least wildly incompetent; unfit rulers for a nation, much less the world by extension. The worst case that I can attest to was back a long while ago, about six years into my job aboard the trawler the waters were violently slapping against the side of the boat, thrashing us back and forth from the pull of the rising moon placed far too low in the sky. Worse still, we were far out to combat overfishing in the shallows and the ongoing storm only made the situation all the more cramping. Long forgotten was our original goal, same as all the days before, as now we were just trying to stay afloat, Bucktooth and Backwater forced into the undercarriage so that they might patch up the holes actively ravaging the old wood while Barnum and I worked the sails. My lungs were pushing harder than they ever had, my mind strained and my hooves felt ripe to burst under the physical stress. My forelegs pulled raw as I tried to manipulate the ropes and get us back on course, begging for any sense of relief when I found exactly what I was looking for. Another boat! Rocking with the waves just a short distance away, slightly closer to the shore than we were. It was only on closer inspection that my hopes and the probable hopes of Barnum were crushed, as the ship was faring even worse than we, barely staying together and on the brink of collapse. The black pegasus hovering above it looked tired and weary, but no other crew members could be seen from my vantage. The vessel beneath me groaned and several boards were heard snapping, but now more than before I had a mission.
"Barnum! Steer towards that ship, they need help!" I shouted as loud as my throat would let me. He almost began to speak against the idea, but I saw his expression refill with lost vigor and we adjusted our course just so. We were almost upon the likewise vessel when a particularly harsh wave drowned it entirely. My heart stopped. The feeling of pure horror at seeing something so monumental, like a verbal expression given life as the waters of the Earth swallowed the lady whole. The rain covered me eyes and my brow but Celestia would bless me and I saw the black pegasus still hovering in the air.
"Over here!" Barnum shouted. The pegasus didn't take notice and so he shouted again. "Over here! I guess it gained his attention over the thunderous rain, as they turned and glided down to our vessel, ready to accept them with as open arms as was possible. We heard them touch down on the deck, hooves clopping against the sopping oak and with no more than a passing, bleary glance we silently continued our work, knowing that we did all we could.
We had finally reached the docks, our busted trawler clinging to edge of her life and the crewmates bleeding their coats of the rainwater as they lied exhausted on the walkway. With the storm beginning to reside, I took the time to tie up what remained of Ol' Betsy in the still moderately choppy waters and properly say hi to our new friend, the likes of which I had noticed just a while ago to actually be a changeling, presumably from a crew of more.
"Hey." I looked up from mount as I finished tying everything in place and tiredly engaged the traveller, mustering all the energy I had left. He was quiet for a second before responding.
"Hey." He stood mostly in silence, his still-labored breathing matching everyone else's. "Thanks for saving me back there, I don't think I would've made it back to shore."
I looked back at my crewmates and back again at him. "Yeah, no problem. ...I'm sorry about your friends." He looked too shell-shocked to really acknowledge the loss, but he understood enough to continue talking.
"Yeah. Thanks."
...
"Hey uh, what's your name? I tried to restart the conversation.
He smiled at the ground for a second. "My actual name is Proboscis, but everyone calls my Biscuit. Or Probe."
"Nice to meet you Prob-" He cut me off.
"Here." His holey hoof extended towards me, something dangling from it. "I want you to have this."
"...What is it?" I asked, mildly confused.
"You know how Queen Chrysalis was defeated right?" I nodded. "Well... I wasn't there for the whole reformation deal, obviously, but I did show up later and I took this. It's a tiny chunk from her throne, anti-magic field. Might help you out later, you deserve it."
"I- uh... thanks man."
"No problem. Be seeing you around." The changeling started off, walking down the pier and into town.
As the next few years went on I had a few more experiences like that, some not quite as extreme, others more so. After the first incident we invested some of our collective funds for a new boat. As sad as it was to see Betsy off like that, we were all in desperate need of easier times, her included. Those experiences started to get to me and with my direction we actually started preparing for them, keeping repair kits and first aid on-board. Eventually push came to shove and rescues became a common occurrence, more often than I'd like to say because of the moon, like before. I said goodbye to the crew I'd gotten to know all this time and joined the Royal Equestrian Coast Guard. As much as I hated the idea of working for the tetrarchy I could recognize the fact that these rescue operations were what I was good at, and it may sound freaky but what I enjoyed doing, so working with a massive organization to do it was all I could want out of a job. And it let me travel a lot too. Meet all sorts of ponies from places far beyond the reaches of my (relatively) tiny island.
I was happy.
