If Thou Wouldst

They refer to the aura emitted from their horns as magic.

I briefly considered radiation of some sort, maybe some strange combination of energies to manipulate objects from a distance, but I have no means of testing that theory. To make matters worse on that front, they claim that the translation between us is a product of this magic. Questions about the range of the spell have revealed that it's not a permanent solution to the language barrier. Apparently, it's localized, distance is unknown. The Princess transcribed the formula for the spell for any ponies without the knowledge beforehand. She collaborated with another Princess, Luna, to build the spell.

Supposedly, magic works in-tandem with the very societal structures of these ponies. They receive some sort of brand or mark that denotes what they are best at, and the conversation explaining what I meant by brand was... awkward, to say the least. Their society is composed almost entirely of herbivores, and the Princess wasn't too keen on learning the condition of the cows back home. Before it all went to shit.

From what I've gleaned in conversation, Princess Luna took a look at one of my memories, the method of which I don't fully understand yet. More of this magic, I assume.

She's been hesitant to see me since, and according to Celestia, is deeply troubled by it. I can understand that.

It's been a week since I woke. The doctor, a Miss Cherry Orchid, told me I've been unconscious for three weeks. That gives me some degree of comfort, because supposedly, they've been using that magic on me to accelerate my healing some. That also means that if it is radiation, it's not a lethal dose. Perhaps they've given me some form of cancer, but I'm not going to look that gift-horse in the mouth. Not until I start showing signs of radiation sickness, anyway. I can't question the effectiveness, because I've already begun to show improvements in mobility. My legs have healed first, so I assume they directed the majority of their efforts there. The pain is minimal. My left arm is still broken, according to the doctors. I still have it in a sling.

Princess Celestia had me jot down my alphabet. She said it was going to be processed for a more permanent solution to our language difference, has a pony named Twilight Sparkle working on it. From what she's told me, this Sparkle girl is very excited to meet me, accompanied by another named Lyra Heartstrings some time later this week. Taking it slow for now.

I can tell the Princess isn't quite sure what to make of me yet, and her conversations feel more like mental battles than a flow of information. I still have to earn her trust, but given what she's told me about the people that were here before, I don't blame her in the slightest. Still, she's been accommodating enough.

Being completely naked save for the sheets they've draped over me... the novelty has worn off. The patient's gown they've provided me won't cut it, and I've made a strong effort to keep my backside positioned away from everyone who's come in so far. They obviously have no qualms with nudity, but I've got some dignity to maintain here, little as it is.

I've requisitioned some pants and a shirt, using what I had on me as a template. They had a seamstress named Rarity working on it in a small town south of here, Ponyville. Silk shirt, white, collared with only two-buttons. I suppose it's more a blouse. A little too fancy for my liking, but I can't complain. Black slacks, plain but smooth. Despite the lack of measurements, they fit well. I'll have to speak with her at some point to commission more clothing. I'll need new shoes and a fresh pair of socks as well. For some reason, the staff won't touch the socks, and Princess Celestia refused to explain why. She had a good laugh at my expense.

This hospital, Enduring Flame Medical Center, is situated in the capital. Canterlot. The names aren't really creative, but maybe that's the translation spell failing to process words that are only in Equiish. Princess Celestia claims that she's speaking English, but that might be another failure of the translation spell; these ponies sure as shit aren't speaking English.

They unshackled me not long after that initial meeting, and I gave the doctor a hell of a fright, shambling around the hospital room. I got a stern talking-to after that, but I gotta get these bones moving again. I have to focus on something, or my mind wanders. Not good for my soul.

Tomorrow, Princess Luna will be returning for a visit. She has some questions about what she's seen.

I hope it goes well. As well as it can, I guess.

The night is beautiful. Stars twinkle in a deep navy sky, the moon a center-piece in the tapestry, large and bright. The moon here is larger in the sky than it is back home. There's no breeze tonight, but the air is cool in the room. Doctor Orchid left me some flowers, but I couldn't tell you what they were called. Never been much into botany. They gave me an oil lamp on the nightstand and furnished the room some, made me feel more at home. Chairs, another table. I moved the table closer to the window. The lamp burns dimly there, and I've positioned the chairs at the table for our talk, whenever that happens. I also have a quill and inkwell, some parchment there for notes.

These ponies have a very strange blend of pre-1900's implements and modern technology. The parallels between our worlds are mind-boggling, but they give me an odd feeling of hope. With all these different realities, there might be a way to go home. It won't be my home, but a home of mine maybe, to another me. My thoughts are interrupted with a sound.

Knocking at the door, muted, a tentative series of thuds. Must be her.

"Come in," I call, and realize that I can't feel that buzzing around my brain. The door doesn't open. She probably can't understand me. I shuffle out of my beds and the sheets over them.

My feet slap against the cold floor as I walk over, my right hand wrapping around the doorknob. Odd that they insist on handles despite having no hands. I pull the door open.

She's shorter than me, an irregularity considering the other ponies I've seen so far, but her horn makes up for that. Looking at her... it's like looking at a goddess, an aspect of some unknowable being beyond reality. Where her sister was radiant like the day, strong and imposing, Princess Luna is far more gentle. She is an inversion of her sister. Her mane, like her sister, has celestial formations within but vastly more complex. It has an ethereal halo about it, transparent and ghostly. Her coat is a deep blue, not unlike the sky outside, and her eyes glow in the darkness. Those cyan irises surround deep pools of black, dark as space. I notice there are bags beneath her eyes. Her face, if that's the right word, looks shocked. Her lips are darker, slightly pursed on her muzzle, and she blows a wave of warm air through her nose in surprise.

I recoil slightly at the sensation and step back. She does the same, likely due to my reaction.

"I'm sorry, I should've-" she cuts me off with that pony language, quick and hastily spoken.

There's a degree of confusion in both our eyes, and embarrassment. I point to my mouth and she's already ahead of me, casting a spell. I can feel that fuzziness on my mind, followed by a buzz, and everything seems to get sharper. We stare at each other, but look has a tinge of fear to it. I decide to speak first.

"I'm sorry, I uh, should've said something," I say abruptly, feeling like an idiot at my delivery. My guts are twisted up in embarrassment. She paws at the floor with a hoof subconsciously, nervously, and speaks fast.

"'Tis no fault of yours, Liam the Human, mine own nerves betrayed common sense. We should have cast the translation spell, I..." she teeters off uncomfortably. Speech patterns of late middle ages. Something to talk about later, maybe. For now, defuse this bomb.

"No, really, the fault is mine. Um... would you like to come in?"

I awkwardly shuffle and allow her in, stepping to the side. She walks past briskly and inspects the room, letting out an anxious horse-like snort. I gently close the door behind her and step forward. She turns to face me, but her eyes do not focus on me for long before they find somewhere else to look. I clear my throat and her gaze returns.

"Perhaps you'd like to sit?"

"Indeed!" She exclaims.

We both approach the same chair and pause, I move forward to pull the chair out and she steps back. The whole situation is awkward as all hell. I gesture to the chair with my hand, and she slowly approaches to sit. I move to the other chair and sit down with a sigh. With both of us seated, she's taller than me, her eyes looking down into mine across the table. She rests on her haunches, which presents an odd question regarding the purpose of chairs in such a world. Okay, be inviting, friendly...

"Would you like some water?"

She shakes her head, eyes the quill in the inkpot, then looks to me. I decide to take a backseat on the conversation, hoping I've done my share to alleviate the tension. She flips her hair to the side and looks out the window, quiet again. We stay like that for a few minutes, just sharing a painful silence. God damn it. My turn, again.

"It's a beautiful night out there, huh?"

She nods and smiles slightly, looking at me with earnest eyes. She barely seems tired.

"Yes, We are quite proud of our night, 'twas a great effort. We are glad thou art enjoying it."

That... is interesting.

"Excuse me, Princess Luna, can you explain what you mean exactly? Not about me enjoying it, the effort part."

She looks down to the table and back to me, confused. A realization settles on her.

"We art Princess Luna, We keepeth our Moon and stars, tasked with their rising for dusk and falling for dawn," she says softly. She notices the shocked look in my features and glances back outside. How the fuck does this place work?

She must see the incredulousness of this, right? Is she crazy, or does she actually control the moon of this world? The stars?

"Surely thou art familiar with the movements of the sun, the moon and the stars?" That seems accusatory.

I clear my throat nervously, unsure of how to respond.

"I... I am, but it's clear that things work differently here."

"Explain," she says tersely. Have I offended her? Shit.

"Well, on my world, the moon and the sun are celestial bodies removed from the influence of people. They kind of just operate on their own, where my world orbits the sun and the moon orbits the Earth."

She goes silent at that, eyes wide. They narrow slightly.

"Thou art jesting, yes? A foolish pleasantry to share with the Princess of the Moon," she says rather aggressively. Angry Shakespeare is a lot more intimidating than one would've thought.

"No, I'm not joking, it's... that's how it worked. I mean no offense, truly. If that night sky out there is your doing, then I am grateful for your work. I'm sure everyone else is, too."

She digests that information for a moment and seems to relax some.

"Thou speaketh of a world without anypony to raise the Moon, nor Sun? Wherein my Moon orbits thine home, and thine home orbits my sister's Sun?" This feels like a conversational deathtrap and I'm no diplomat. Bring it back to her.

"Not your moon, and not Princess Celestia's sun. This is an entirely different world, from what I can tell. I take it the sun and moon here orbit the planet, and not the other way 'round?"

She nods, unsure of where I'm going.

"And the stars, they are also your responsibility?"

"Indeed," she seems calmer.

"Your world, dimension, universe... it seems more centered on the life here. Everything is connected. My world had no magic, only technology. From what little I've heard, you and your sister are revered as god-like figures, right?"

"Aye, however, 'tis a misconception. Gods we art not."

"But practically speaking, you are. You're both are immortal, from what I've heard. You can move celestial bodies around in the sky... my people had none of that. This place is very different. We had religions, many different faiths, but none of their primary divinities were walking around in the flesh. At least, save for some SCPs."

She doesn't say anything for a few minutes, but the silence is less tense. I'm hoping I steered the ship clear of any icebergs.

She says, "these SCPs... they art what, pray tell?"

The big question.

"That's hard to answer, but loosely speaking, anything that is an anomaly to common everyday life."

She doesn't seem satisfied with that answer. She huffs then says, "give an example, Liam the Human."

"Well on my world, you would be one," I say with a joking tone, "Luna the Pony."

She looks shocked that I would refer to her in such a way.

Oh, I fucked up.

I swallow and hope I haven't just thrown myself into whatever serves as a dungeon here. A few moments pass and I see it. The corners of her muzzle begin to turn-up, her tired eyes beginning to relax. She giggles, and it almost sounds like music. It's sweet and soft, light in the air. A great relief. She looks at me with mirth in her eyes.

"And thou wouldst beest one to ourselves!" She exclaims heartily.

"Probably, yes," I chuckle. Thank God.

After her laughter dies down, we both take some moments to compose ourselves. She has relaxed her guard a bit, and I can see more clearly the fatigue upon her. We bask in the most comfortable silence of the night, the diplomatic nightmare having been avoided. I know why she's come, and I don't want to speak on it, but I feel I have to.

"What you saw in my memory," she tenses and her pupils narrow, "that was also an SCP. The effects of one." My tone is rather somber when I say it, and the mood comes down. Her lip trembles for a moment and she takes in a sharp breath.

"I see," she says tightly.

"Before we speak on that, I'm going to get some water. Would you like some?" I stand slowly.

That seems to catch her off-guard. She nods and smiles, though it's fleeting.

"Yes, if thou wouldst."

I walk to the nightstand in the corner and pour water from the pitcher into two glasses. I take one, walk back and go to hand her the glass when I realize she has no hands to take it. I awkwardly pause and she notices my hand outstretched. I feel a coolness settle near one of my fingers and the glass is gently pried from my grasp. She hovers it before her lips and takes a sip, the glass enshrouded in a blue glow.

I walk back to get my glass, then I get seated. I take what I hope is a polite sip from the glass.

"Did it have a name, the SCP?" She whispers.

I clear my throat.

"No, they typically don't, but they have designations. The ones you saw, I'm willing to bet they looked like horrible versions of me."

She takes a shaky breath and nods.

"That, Princess Luna, was SCP-2480... specifically, 2480-2 and 2480-3."

It's dark out here. At least they gave me a pistol. Nine millimeter, semi-automatic.

The helicopter dropped us off about a mile away from the town. I managed to get some sleep on the ride over, but it wasn't much. We met with what's left of Psi-9 at the Sandcastle Resort. The moment we touched down, I could tell that this entire town has been forgotten. This resort is a shell, a rotting carcass of a building. The pool water is stagnant, covered in algae. I'm walking with one of the guys, he was pretty nice to me on the fly over. His 'name' is Bootstrap. He asked me my name, and I told him, but he keeps calling me Doc.

I don't even have a PhD.

We're headed down the highway now, and there's burned out cars everywhere. One of the MTF soldiers, I think her callsign was Frostbite, keeps taking pictures of every single car we pass. I'm not sure what purpose that serves. Another MTF soldier kicks over a jerry can near one of the cars. I notice something on one of the cars, though.

"Hey, Doc?" he says beside me.

"Yeah?"

"Y' think Jesus was an SCP?"

The question makes me pause, and I stop walking. He stops walking alongside me, staring towards me in what I assume to be an expectant posture. I think about it for a little while longer. Considering his miracles and if he existed, and attempting to scour my brain for any mentions of a Jesus SCP I might've read somewhere. I opt for an easier answer.

"I don't know, Bootstrap."

There's a strange vine-like growth on one of the tires, seems to go up into the engine. I squat down to take a look and see that it's moving. Pulsing. They gave me a set of gear for atmospheric monitoring, some medical gear as well. Combined with the hazmat suit, it's all fairly heavy. I'm not really in shape, but this stuff is really pushing the limits. I feel sluggish and slow. I set the medical kit down and, despite not being trained in the field, I can take samples at the very least.

"Well, I think 'e might've been."

It's hard to see the vine-thing in the dark, so as I'm getting out the vial and the syringe, I call over to Bootstrap.

"Hey, can you shine your light on this?"

"Sure thing, Doc."

He waltzes over from the middle of the street and crouches down beside me. He fumbles with something on his gun, an AK of some sort, and the car lights up. The 'vine' is not a vine, it's some sort of organ. It's alive, and it looks like an artery, a red and purple coloration. I gasp and fall back onto my ass. It's pulsing faster now, growing in size along the side of the car. Bootstrap stands and keeps his light pointed at it, and he says something over his shoulder the Captain.

'Pickaxe', the Captain, swipes at it with his combat knife. Deep crimson liquid spills out onto the ground and soaks into the pavement. The artery pulses, weaker, weaker, as whatever organ is supplying this... blood is running out of energy.

I remember what I'm supposed to be doing, and I go to collect a sample, but my heart is going crazy.

"You okay there, Doc?"

"I-... I'm fine. Just..." I sigh nervously. "I'm not a doctor, you know that, right?"

"Title don't matter to me, got all the strappin's of a Doc," he drawls.

I scoop some of the matter into a container and seal it tightly, wrapping it in a plastic film. I get some drops of blood into the vial as the vein peters out it's last supply.

"Webb," Pickaxe says over my shoulder, "what are we dealing with here?"

I take a shaky breath, and slot the sealed vial into the hardcase. It emits a small beep in response, and a green light comes on. I turn over my shoulder.

"Truth be told, I have no idea. Hardcase will give me a reading in a sec. I can't say anything just yet, but I have a feeling you don't want any of that red stuff on you."

The device prints a small prompt on a receipt, and the LED screen shows various chemical components. The database is limited in the field, without an internet connection, but there's just enough data to come to a conclusion.

"Well?"

I take the receipt to be sure, and read it again.

"Uh... it's uh, thirty-five percent foreign material... the rest is..."

"Human?"

"... yes."

"Captain! Movement, East!" I hear Frostbite yell.

The world becomes a swirl of flashlights as they turn back to the road into town. I stand and the hairs on the back of my neck do, too. Towards the town, down the highway, where the lights have all gone out, someone is walking towards us. There's fog on the road, details obscured. I don't want to see it, but I need to. Whatever it is. Two more MTF soldiers move into position on the other sides of the road, weapons pointed towards the figure.

"Help... me..." a weak voice calls out.

"Stop right th' fuck there!"

I move forward a few steps to see better.

"Captain?"

The person is still moving towards us, slowly. I can't see, the fog is too thick. I walk just a little bit closer.

"Hee-eelp... me, help..."

"I said stop, god dammit!"

I see now. A woman, face ripped to shreds, blood caking her dress. Her legs are shaking as she approaches, eyes wide in terror. Her skin is pale, bloodless, her hands mangled and her soles are torn up. She's leaving bloody footprints with every step. Her dress drapes off of her stomach, one hand cradling the bump.

"Oh my God, she's pregnant," Frostbite says faintly.

I have medical supplies. I move forward without thinking.

"Doc!"

"Webb!"

I am three steps away from her, then I am thrown backwards. Bootstrap is in front of me, arm outstretched in my direction, his weapon aloft in the other hand. He threw me back. He's still looking at me when she moves towards him, her belly swelling up and fresh bloodstains dotting her dress. Her face has changed, her mouth tearing open in a scream. The flesh of her lips rip apart as her mouth stretches and her jaw splits beneath the skin.

"Help meeEEE-!"

She explodes, and something whizzes by my head when she does. Bootstrap is thrown back beyond me, the force of the burst sending him at least ten feet behind me. I hear ricochets on the ground and against the car. Red mist hangs in the air where she once stood, her feet planted in place, upright. There's something embedded in the ground beside my head, it's red and tan, and I don't want to know what it is.

Pickaxe helps me to my feet, but behind his visor, I see rage in his eyes. He looks towards Bootstrap, lying on his back and coughing. I can see, even from here, his suit was penetrated. Two spikes, shards of bone maybe, sticking out of his chest. There's blood everywhere.

Frostbite gags and moves to help Bootstrap, but Pickaxe extends a hand. She stops, and turns to us, then back to Bootstrap. Pickaxe raises his rifle. The other MTF soldiers do so as well.

"Fff... ugh... I'm... I'm hit. God dammit..." He wheezes.

The shards sink inside of his chest cavity, disappearing within the punctured hazmat suit. I feel the urge to vomit. He props himself up, looking toward the stumps in the center of the road. He shakily tries to stand, but fails, and Frostbite moves forward again.

"Stop." The Captain's tone is ice. She stops. He trembles and stands unevenly.

"Y'all... I'm... I'm okay," His voice is uneven, uncertain. He pats his chest, "I think the plate caught it."

"It didn't, Pete," Pickaxe utters somberly.

He looks up at us, his visor reflecting the flashlights. The fog seeps in from behind us. He shifts his weight and puts his hands up. He coughs lightly, and shakes his head. He coughs again.

"Guys, I'm okay! I'm good!"

"Don't move, Pete."

"Captain, what if he's not-" a woman chirps up beside me.

"He is."

Bootstrap shuffles and his hands shake. He looks toward Frostbite, "remember Qatar? I made it out! I was fine!" He looks back to the group, weapons pointed towards him. "Have the Doc check me! I'm me! See?" He gestures down to his body.

"I can check him, if he's..." I start to say, but the Captain gives me a look over his shoulder.

"I'm not-" He coughs and his head tilts. His shoulders tense up and his arms hang limply in the air. Frostbite raises her weapon. "I'm..." His head tilts to the right, and keeps moving. His arms shake, his knees bend inward. "I'm not..." His head turns with a muffled crack. His head hangs limp and he stands there, unmoving. He twitches, then stands upright, his head lolling back and something crunches in his suit.

No one moves. His head rolls back down and he looks at us. He says it hoarsely,

"I'm me, see?"

His respirator shatters. Bone fragments and brain matter go airborne, wetly slapping the pavement behind him. Then, I hear the crack of a rifle shot behind me. He plods down onto the ground not long after. Pickaxe goes over to his body and retrieves something from it. He shouts something to one of his men, then approaches me. I'm still staring at the corpse when I'm roughly grabbed by Pickaxe.

"Do your fucking job and stay out of our way," he growls. I don't look at him.

I'm still staring, and he slaps something in into my hand. I look down to it.

"Squad, on me! Someone grab that piece of shit and let's get moving."

There's a bloody crucifix in the palm of my hand.

I tell her where we found it, what happened. I don't go into too much detail, for her sake. I don't know what she saw inside my head, but anything relating to 2480 is a nightmare in of itself. I tell her about Bootstrap. Pete. Show her the crucifix. I don't share what happened afterwards, the specifics and the horror of watching the world slowly crumble. She asks me questions about the gear, the weapons. She makes specific mention of the rifle, tells me it's been locked away for the time being.

Fair enough.

She asks me about my colleagues, the facility. I give her what information I can. It doesn't matter anymore, now that it's all over. She enquires about other SCPs, but she wants to hear about safe ones. I tell her about SCP-999, how I ran into it on a transfer shift and it bounced all over me, stole my bubblegum and got stuck to the ceiling. She laughed about it.

After that, she asked me what happened in the end.

I tell her the world died, how fast it all got out of control. By the time I've finished recounting much of what's happened, I can see we're both drained, emotionally and mentally. The information, even without the visuals behind it, would be enough to terrify someone. But she lived it through me, even if for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Princess Luna," I say quietly.

She tilts her head at me.

"What about, Liam the Human?"

"That you had to see that. That you saw..."

She stops me and trots over to my side of the table. She looks at me with those massive eyes, cyan painting the world before me. My breath hitches and she lunges forward for a hug. It takes me a second to realize what's happening, but I find myself hugging her back. She has one of her forelegs draped over my shoulder, my face is in her mane. She smells like a flower, my mind can't place it, and there's a distinct earthy musk on her coat. Oddly enough, the mixture is comforting.

"No apologies art necessary from thee. 'Twas not thy doing, nor thy fault," she mumbles against me.

I hug her tighter. After a few moments, I break away and lean back in my chair. She smiles at me, soft and sad.

"We regret to say our duties call. We thank you for the conversation," she speaks gently. I nod back.

"Rest easy, Liam Webb. We hope to visit thee once more, shouldst thou wish it. We would endeavor to have you as our friend."

"Of course. I share that sentiment. Goodnight, Princess Luna."

She pauses before the door, looking back to me. She opens her mouth to say something, but stops. She smiles again, a little more happy, then leaves. I wonder what that was about.

Author's Note

Chapter 3! Been writing like crazy lately, not sure what's up.
Haven't really done much editing, if y'all notice anything wrong, lmk!