Author's Note

This chapter centered on Twilight's POV. Chapter titles in caps will mostly center on Sunset's, and proper capitalization will mostly center on Twilight's. These are the two primary (but not only) distinctions.

Forgive me if the next few updates take a bit. Blame Elden Ring lol

4 – Capgras

For most of her life, Twilight kept herself on a tight regiment. As a student, maintaining a sharp schedule was not only something she excelled at, but enjoyed doing. A complicated routine meant staying busy, and Twilight hated being idle. That, and keeping up with so many plans gave Twilight a sense of control over her life. And above all that, it made her feel like she was doing it right—regardless of how nebulous the concept of “it” was.

Several years ago, for a variety of reasons Twilight avoided ever thinking about, that changed.

When she counted the amount of events that led her to this point in her life, it never added up. In her nearly two and a half decades alive, Twilight had been through so much; yet a few things—a few days—were enough to change everything forever. Not just her life, but her perception of herself, her friends, and the world around her.

After that, trying to do anything outside of necessitating her existence felt doomed for failure, and she’d been through that pain enough times. Besides, when every day seemingly blurred into the next, what was the point in trying to keep a schedule? Aside from the bare minimum—waking up early enough to prepare for work, showing up to the office on time, and going to sleep at a reasonable hour—Twilight preferred to keep an open schedule.

That might lead one to believe Twilight’s life was relaxing. Unfortunately, even with all the free time she ensured for herself, she seldom ever felt at peace. Back when she had motivation, ambition, self-discipline, and a litany of other things Twilight felt she’d lost, she thought her adult life would be so much more than what it was. She felt she had unlimited potential, and because of this, her future prospects only felt limited to whoever she chose to be.

Even knowing how messed up she was, Twilight’s high expectations never adjusted to her lower functioning capacity. Instead, they saddled her with a nagging, overhanging, unshakable sense of urgency.

It’s not like Twilight thought she was absolutely destined for greatness, but she was destined for something. Whatever it was, it had to be more than working an unfulfilling job, occasionally dealing with magic, and simply existing in the space between those two things.

It was frustrating. It felt like enough time had passed. She should have gotten over so much so long ago. Instead, she still felt broken, and her future prospects felt limited by who she had become.

Unfortunately, the world didn’t stop long enough for Twilight to figure things out. It didn’t matter that she still woke up some mornings with bleary eyes and tears on her pillowcase, she still had to push herself out of bed. She still had to eat and take care of herself. She still had to go to work, rent still had to be paid. No one else was going to do any of that for her.

There would be days where her anxiety would be so bad, Twilight would spend half her shift in the office bathroom. Occasionally, it was to hide a breakdown, but she found herself staring at the wall most of the time. Thanks to her work efficiency, she could take this time without her managers ever knowing.

She dreaded the day they caught on, though. Without the ability to slink away, Twilight’s barely maintained facade would surely crumble. And she always felt like if it did, the rest of her life would with it.

However, after everything that happened with Lightning Dust, Twilight found herself wondering why she even cared. There was a nonzero chance these were her last days alive, and that forced her to contend with how little she’d lived over the last several years. So much effort went into maintaining a life she resented, and for what?

Why was she wasting her time pretending everything was normal? Shouldn’t she be using this time to be with her family, or Sunset, or doing literally anything besides spending all day typing and occasionally answering a phone?

Instead, Twilight sat in a cafe, alone like usual. It was the same spot she went during her lunch break every day, her robust lunch of a single cup of coffee sitting right in front of her. A dull and depressing note for her story to end on, and she blamed no one but herself.

Maybe it was just Twilight’s way of asserting control over her situation. Lightning Dust left a promise to deliver a swift death to her, but Twilight’s persistence in living her everyday life was an act of defiance. It was her way of proving she believed things would be okay. Sunset and Princess Twilight would devise a plan, and once they pulled it off, things would finally be okay. Life could finally be normal.

But deep down, Twilight knew there was nothing “defiant” about her actions. Her inability to break from routine was as much out of fear as it was complacency. She felt just as hopeless about their chances as she did about herself. And if she were right, she’d rather be mired in mundanity.

That, and Twilight was too smart for her own good. As such, she found it very easy to poke holes in Sunset’s idealistic image of the future.

Something about Sunset’s demeanor during her explanation rubbed Twilight the wrong way. Though it had been years since she swore off trying to research magic and its potential interactions with technology, Twilight wasn’t naïve. In fact, there was no human alive who knew as much about magic as Twilight did aside from Sunset, and at the level she was speaking, nothing about magic was that simple. There had to be a catch.

Not only that, but considering the sheer amount of time Sunset had spent researching a way to fix the magic leaks, there was no way she’d sound so aggressively neutral about a potential solution. As long as Twilight had known her, Sunset’s mission was to “fix her mistakes,” so to speak. Even with the immediate threat of Lightning Dust, if the plan had a high enough chance of succeeding, Sunset would have been ecstatic.

That meant there had to be something about this plan that Sunset wasn’t telling them, and not knowing what was driving Twilight crazy. She had tumbled these thoughts through her head every waking moment since she left Sunset’s apartment, and the conclusions she came to were few and dismal.

The first possibility—and probably the most likely—was that Sunset was lying. There was no solution. She was just going to panic, ask the princesses to do something, and hope they somehow came through. Whether or not they could was up in the air, but considering Sunset briefly mentioned asking them for help herself, that felt like the most realistic possibility.

The next prospect was that severing the connections between worlds was much more dangerous than Sunset was letting on. There had to be some kind of risk factor—either to the worlds, or to Sunset herself. And as much as she didn’t want to believe that, she knew Sunset better than anyone—well enough to know she’d throw her life down for something like this.

Of course, none of the girls would ever ask her to do something like that—Twilight especially—but Sunset would say she’s doing it for them anyway. She’d argue she has to. And if that were the case, she wasn’t looking forward to the argument that would inevitably spark between them.

Future confrontation notwithstanding, Twilight resolved to ask for more details the next time she and Sunset were alone. She’d never spill the details with the other girls around, but Twilight knew how to get her to open up, and she’d get her to by any means necessary.

“Excuse me,” a voice parted the ocean of thoughts Twilight was immersed in. “Twilight Sparkle?”

When Twilight looked up, she was met with an unfamiliar face. At least it was initially. Upon second glance, Twilight could swear she’d seen this girl somewhere before. It was creepy how she knew Twilight’s name, but there was probably a reason she knew it.

Her hair was deep purple, save for a few streaks of mint blue. Bangs sat right above her eyebrows, the rest of her hair tied up and flowing down her neck in a loose ponytail. She was dressed in a white blouse, tucked into a long navy blue skirt, a short black tie around her neck. A ratty, beige cardigan barely sat on her shoulders, the baggy sleeves giving the impression it was a size or two too big for her.

Try as she might, Twilight couldn’t put a name to whoever this was.

“Sorry if I’m bothering you, I-I was just in town and I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Her voice gave the impression she was trying really hard to sound sweet, but Twilight gave her the benefit of the doubt. Besides, all things considered, it’s not like she had any room to judge someone for an awkward introduction.

Yet she still couldn’t think of a name.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked.

Twilight read about situations like this online. Without a name in her memory, she assumed this was an old classmate. And judging by her overly happy demeanor, she was probably here to try and sell her on some multi level marketing scheme. Still, considering she spent so much time staring at her trying to figure out who she was, it felt rude to decline.

“Um, sure.” Twilight’s voice barely exceeded a whisper.

The stranger sat across from Twilight, her eyes almost as wide as her smile. Twilight smiled back, a twist of anxiety in her stomach following soon after.

The woman chuckled. “You remember me, don’t you?”

Twilight suppressed a wince, her stomach tying itself into a knot.

“Well, um… you look familiar, but I’m not quite sure I remember.”

The woman laughed. “Come on, you know my name.”

The inflection in her voice caused something in Twilight’s brain to finally click.

“Starlight Glimmer!” Twilight exclaimed.

“You got it!” Starlight beamed

“It’s good to see you again,” said Twilight. “What brings you here, though? I thought Sunset would have told us if you were coming through the portal.”

Starlight raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”

“The portal?” Twilight repeated. “Or, do you just call it the mirror on your side? It’s been so long since I’ve been over there that I forgot.”

Starlight looked even more confused. The knot in Twilight’s gut tightened.

There was no way Twilight was misremembering this. She guessed her name after all, and she vividly remembered the first time they met. It was hard not to considering Starlight saved the girls’ lives.

Still, judging by her reaction, something was off.

“I’m sorry,” said Twilight. “I-I think I’m confusing you with someone else. Where did we know each other from?”

“Eighth grade science class? We sat next to each other, a-and we were pretty much the only ones in that class who talked to one another.” Starlight let out an awkward chuckle. “You were pretty much my only friend through middle school, too.”

Memories of middle school—ones she hadn’t accessed in who knows how long—came rushing back to Twilight. Suddenly, she felt awful. Starlight was one of her few friends from that time in her life, yet meeting her interdimensional counterpart must have completely replaced her in Twilight’s memory.

Even worse than that, she was immensely embarrassed. Starlight probably thought Twilight was insane with her talk of portals and mirrors, and was probably realizing the huge mistake she’d just made approaching her.

At least that means she might leave me alone sooner, Twilight thought.

“Right! Starlight!” Twilight slapped her forehead. “I’m sorry I couldn’t remember. A lot has happened since middle school, and, y-you know how it is, right?” Twilight wanted to slap her forehead again after that answer, this time with a little more force.

Several agonizing seconds ticked by without a word, only Starlight’s wide-eyed grin. Twilight began to worry, wondering if she’d fallen into a catatonic state or something. Did she have a medical condition? What was Twilight going to do if–

Starlight began laughing out of nowhere, the volume causing Twilight to jump. She immediately ducked her head, looking around the cafe in hopes none of the other patrons’ eyes fell on her table.

“That’s okay!” Starlight calmed down quickly much to Twilight’s relief. “Honestly, if I were in your position, I probably wouldn’t remember me either. Who doesn’t try to forget middle school, right?”

Twilight felt a little more at ease. “I know how that is.”

“And don’t even get me started on high school,” Starlight continued. “I do not miss anyone at Manehattan High, and I definitely don’t miss anyone from Crystal Prep.”

Twilight blinked several times. “Wait, you went to Crystal Prep?”

“Well, not until junior year,” she answered. “When my family moved to Canterlot City, I applied there on a whim. I didn’t think I’d get in, but I became a much better student once I was a freshman.”

“Ah,” replied Twilight, unsure if she should mention the coincidental timing of her own school transfer.

“Yeah!” Starlight exclaimed. “You know, I was looking forward to getting to see you—you know, since you told me on the last day of middle school that’s where you were going? But Principal Cadance told me you left the year before. When she told me about what happened, though, I couldn’t blame you.”

Twilight felt another pang of guilt. Starlight could remember things with such specificity, but if Twilight tried to recall anything they’d said to each other, she’d probably come up empty handed.

Still, the more pressing feeling was worry.

“What exactly did Principal Cadance tell you?”

“S-Sorry if that’s a sore spot.” Starlight scratched the back of her neck. “All she just told me was that Principal Cinch tried to extort you into competing in a competition, and she said she couldn’t legally tell me anything beyond that.”

It’s not like Twilight expected Principal Cadance to give her the detailed version of events, but it was a relief to know Starlight knew very little outside of the basics.

“I was kind of bummed when you weren’t there,” Starlight went on, “but I ended up getting into Everton a year later anyway, so it all worked out.”

“Wait, you got into Everton?” Twilight immediately felt embarrassed at how loud she spoke.

“I did!” Starlight looked proud at first, but looked away bashfully. “I-I can’t really talk about the details, but the project I presented ended up being a huge discovery, so much so that I wasn’t even allowed to tell my parents what it was.” Starlight warily looked over her shoulder. “Even mentioning this is stretching the limits of what I’m allowed to say.”

Twilight blinked several times, unsure of what to say, or even how to feel.

“What are you telling me for, then?” asked Twilight. “I mean, that’s amazing, but I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything.”

“I-I’m not trying to brag or anything, sorry if it came off like that!” Starlight quickly clarified. “It’s just… the question “what did you do with your life” always comes up, and I can’t ever give a good answer to it. So, I just like to get that out of the way before anyone asks me.

”And I probably wouldn’t get in that much trouble for that little amount of information. Maybe just a slap on the wrist, but that’s still more than I’d like to deal with. Besides, I guess I just figured it was something you’d be interested in hearing about.”

For someone who managed to get into such an exclusive program, Twilight could hardly believe Starlight seemed so anxious. Still, there was some kind of comfort in knowing she was despite her vague accomplishments.

However, more than that, Twilight felt woefully inadequate. In leaving Crystal Prep and transferring to Canterlot High, Twilight had left that opportunity for someone else. And from the sounds of it, that someone was far more capable than her.

“How about you?” Starlight asked. “What have you been up to? I imagine some pretty big things, huh?”

Those feelings of inadequacy doubled. In a way, Starlight was right: Twilight had gotten up to some enormous things—things that were bigger than either of them and the world at large. But much like Starlight, she couldn’t really discuss any of it, though undoubtedly for different reasons. Even if she could mention her magical escapades, it’s not like someone of Starlight’s stature would believe something that sounds so nonsensical.

So what did that leave Twilight with other than the Nothing she’d accomplished otherwise.

“Well, I went to college for a couple of years after high school, but…” Twilight sighed, looking down at her lukewarm cup of coffee. “I ended up dropping out after a major life event which I can’t really talk about. After that, I started working in IT, and I’ve been doing that for a few years now.”

“Sounds like you’re doing pretty well for yourself,” said Starlight. “That seems like a field you’d be really good at. And you managed to get into it without putting yourself in debt? That’s impressive.”

Twilight shrugged, Starlight’s praise feeling as empty as it would from anyone else’s mouth.

“I guess?” Twilight half-conceded. “It’s not exactly difficult, but it pays the bills.”

“Hey, that’s what’s important, right?” Starlight smiled. “It’s hard out there for everyone these days; just getting by is something to be proud of, especially if you can do it with an easy job.”

Attempting a smile, Twilight nodded and took a sip of her coffee. As much as she appreciated Starlight’s words, that all felt like something Sunset would say. And though she also appreciated when Sunset said things like that, she knew it was usually a remark of pity.

With Sunset, though, she had a reason—many reasons to pity Twilight. Starlight didn’t. When Twilight realized that, she wasn’t just attempting to smile anymore.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” Starlight’s smile widened.

The two stared at each other from across the table. Starlight was definitely peculiar, but that didn’t make Twilight as apprehensive as she’d usually be. Initially, Twilight found herself put off by Starlight’s demeanor, but after just a few words, it put her at ease.

Still, she wasn’t in the mood to carry a conversation about her life. Looking down at the time on her phone, Twilight found an out.

“Well, it was nice seeing you again, but my lunch is almost over.”

“Aww, darn.” Starlight frowned, playfully banging her fist against the table. “I was looking forward to catching up a little more.”

“Sorry, but I’m usually here around this time just about every day of the week.” Twilight sighed. “Well, at least for now.”

Raising an eyebrow, Starlight leaned forward. “Are you quitting your job soon?”

Twilight wanted to slap herself for saying that. How was she going to explain that? “Sorry, I’m going to die in a few days because I pissed off someone possessed by rogue magic. Yeah, it’s gonna be an all day thing.”

“Something like that,” replied Twilight. “At least, maybe.”

Starlight nodded. “Well, maybe we could get together sometime? I can give you my number, and we can plan something out soon.”

At first, Twilight was going to automatically accept, then resign herself to not ever contacting her like she would with anyone else in this situation. Instead, she tried to decline.

“Look, I’d love to, but… I don’t know if you want to bother. I can be kind of a flake.” She let out a sharp exhale. “And that’s kind of an understatement.”

Starlight giggled. “It’s okay, really, I understand. Honestly, that’s kind of a relief. I barely have the energy to socialize most days, so I won’t push you or anything.”

She stood up from the table. “Still, if you change your mind, I’d love to hear from you. And even if you don’t want to hang out, if you need a job, I’ve got you covered.”

Starlight reached into her cardigan, pulling out a small paper card from the breast pocket. She placed the piece of paper face down on the table and stepped away. “See you soon, Twilight.”

“Thanks.” Twilight gave a quick wave as her new-old friend walked away.

When Twilight picked up the card, she was a little confused. Of course, she wasn’t exactly sure what she expected the face of it to look like, but it wasn’t this.

It was a simple; black text on off white paper, clearly printed in a professional manner. In the center was a phone number featuring an area code Twilight had never seen before, and an absurdly long seven digit extension at the end.

On the top left corner was a multicolored logo made out of three letters.

“TMU?” Twilight muttered aloud to herself. For a moment, she thought this might have been the invite to join Starlight’s multilevel marketing company, but it looked too subtle for that. Whatever it was, Twilight didn’t have much time to dwell on it, slipping the card into her pocket and standing up from the table.

Everything about her encounter with Starlight felt strange, but something about that interaction brightened her mood nonetheless. She still wasn’t sure if she was going to reach out to Starlight—especially not after the unwarranted job offer—but she was already giving it far more thought than she would have with any other former classmate. Maybe she was just that desperate to be around someone who didn’t know how pathetic she truly was.

Even still, Twilight was emboldened. When her lunch first began, she felt resigned to her fate. But these could be her last days. Not only that, Sunset was still around, and she probably didn’t have anything to do.

And if there was anyone Twilight wanted to spend her last days—maybe hours—with, it was Sunset.

Considering her track record at work, Twilight made the decision to get up from her table at the cafe and head to her car. It didn’t matter that she didn’t clock out. If she was still around the next day, she could fix her time card then.