Rarity hummed a tune to herself as she worked. It wasn’t her first time improvising a new outfit on the spot, nor her first time designing something for a humanoid type of build. It was, however, her first time designing something for a female figure.

Twilight stood in front of her. It took more than a little effort and a touch of her own magic to help support herself, but she eventually managed to stand back up, placing a hand on a nearby bookshelf to help balance her new body. The measuring tape hovered from here to there, taking in her new proportions. Rarity made a note of them on a nearby scrap of parchment.

Twilight sighed forlornly. Rarity looked up.

“Everything alright, dear?”

“Just thinking.”

“Anything in particular?” Twilight gave her a look. “Right. I can imagine.” Now finished taking Twilight’s measurements, she placed the tape off to the side and let her know she need no longer stand. Twilight more or less let herself fall, her rump hitting a strategically placed floor cushion.

“It’s just,” she said, wrapping the blanket around her naked body. “I keep wondering. What happens now? Where can we all go from here?”

Rarity hummed. “We? Or you?” She held some fabric up in her magic and used a pair of shears to cut it into more manageable pieces; her improvised workstation, a table that Twilight had levitated from somewhere in the upper levels of the treehouse.

“Both? I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“It is a bit of a tricky situation, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Yes it is and I have no idea how to... fix it.”

Rarity hummed again. “Just to be clear, darling, are we talking about your new,” She paused. “Look?”

Twilight waved a hand. “No, no. It’s only temporary. I just need to wait it out.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

Twilight sighed. She jabbed a fist toward the kitchen. “Him. I don’t know how to... him.”

Rarity smiled sympathetically. “The two of you do have a habit of starting on the wrong hoof.”

“And I don’t know how to fix it,” she said. “Celestia sent me here to study friendship. It’s... me. It’s my specialty. Or it’s supposed to be. Look at us, all we’ve been through. You, me, the others... there’s so much we’ve learned since we formed our little circle. All this time, all those lessons—you'd think I’d have an idea how to mend things up with him but... but I just...” She sighed in frustration.

Rarity hummed. “You make it sound difficult.”

“Well? Isn’t it? We...” she bit her lip. “From his perspective, I tried to use him. You girls and he were friends. You would have stayed friends and everything would be fine if I didn’t come along and just... just...” she sniffed and angrily wiped her eye. “Ruined everything.”

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? You didn’t know better. None of us did.”

“I could have,” she mumbled. “All this time. I could have... I don’t know. I could have tried to—”

“Come now, darling. You know better than to fall into that trap. There’s plenty all of us could have done to... understand him better. And you heard what Anon said. He could have taken initiative and tried to take that first step himself. If it’s blame you’re looking for, there’s plenty to go around.”

Twilight scoffed. “What do you suggest, then?”

Now that the fabric was cut to her liking, Rarity threaded a needle and began to work. “Have you tried, I don’t know, talking to him?” Twilight gave her a look. “When you came to me with this whole... transformation business, well, I must admit I had my doubts. It seemed,” She paused. “Well, it seemed to me you were so eager to... please him and get on his good graces, you might have overlooked other possible threads to make it right. I didn’t want to say anything at the moment. I thought the two of you might have started to mend things in your own way, but after everything I’ve seen, well...”

Twilight had the grace to look abashed.

“Now, I’ve known dear Anonymous for some time. Longer than you have, darling. I’ve a good idea for his character, I’d like to think, and I can tell you right now he’s just as eager as you to make things right. Why not start there?”

Twilight considered this. “So, talk. Just talk?”

Rarity smiled. “Like you said, we’ve been through our share of friendship problems—you, me and the girls. How many of them have been solved by just... talking? Trying to understand each other? I know you’re trying, darling, but I don’t believe a big, grand gesture is the way to go about it. Foal steps, is what I’m saying. And if nothing else, you now have a unique opportunity.” At Twilight’s questioning look, she continued. “He wanted to become a pony, however briefly, to try and understand us better. But the horseshoe is now on the other hoof.”

Twilight’s eyes lit up in understanding. She was human now, or at least a close approximation. Not just in body, of this she was sure.

“Rarity, you’re a genius.”

She smiled. “Merely observant. Now, I’m almost finished here. Just need to apply a few finishing touches. Do you have a board and a clothes iron in here somewhere?”

When Rarity went to check in on him, Anon couldn’t deny being the slightest bit nervous. She’d promptly closed down the library for the day, hanging the ‘Closed’ sign just out the door. In most other towns, this might have merited the raise of an eyebrow from the average pedestrian or government official, but for Ponyville, it was par for the course. None would pay it much mind.

“All finished,” she told him. “You’ll find Twilight more presentable now. It’s not my finest work, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

It might have been unwarranted, maybe even uncalled for, but his heart sank a bit at the prospect of meeting the erstwhile alicorn. The two didn’t have the best track record, and he couldn’t help but wonder if something else would happen to drive the point home. He nearly smacked himself for tempting fate, but he’d come this far now. In her own way, Twilight did try to help him out with this whole business, so he could at the very least meet her halfway. Especially seeing how the supposed spell backfired on her.

A modest table had been placed at the center of the main room. As with most pony-minded furniture, this one hung close to the ground. Four floor cushions had been arranged on either side of it, with Twilight having already claimed her spot.

Rarity then excused herself, saying something about tending to matters in her boutique. This left Anon and Twilight alone. She smiled tentatively. A faint blush lingered in her cheeks. Twilight gestured to the table and said,

“Come and sit. Make yourself comfortable.”

He moved more stiffly than he cared to, trying not to look but trying not to make it look like he was trying not to look... with limited success. If Twilight noticed, she didn’t say anything, and maintained that slightly nervous smile.

Anon appraised her new garment. She wore... well, he had no idea what to call it. If pressed, he’d liken the thing to a cross between a dress and an apron. It was a simple, one-piece cloth, eggshell white in color, held in place by a loop fastened around Twilight’s neck. Her arms and upper back remained bare, uncovered so as to not constrain her wings. Curiously enough, they themselves (along with her horn) largely retained their pony-like proportions, looking far too small for flight.

“Rarity works fast,” he said.

Twilight was quick to latch on. “Y-yes. Yes! She sure does.” She laughed nervously.

Anon sat. He cleared his throat and said, “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay,” Twilight said. “It must be strange for you, all this. Me looking like, well...”

“You’re the one it happened to,” Anon pointed out. “If it’s strange for me, I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.” He chanced another look at her, studying her new features and said, “So, how do you feel? What’s it like?”

Twilight smiled wanly. “I feel... tall? Bigger?” She chuckled nervously and raised a hand. “These are something else. You can feel so much more with them.” She idly brushed her fingers over the spine of a book. “Our hooves don’t have the means to process this sheer amount of sensory input. It’s not unusual for ponies to use their mouths in place of them, and that’s what comes closest, at least when it comes to feel. And...”

She used her magic to levitate a thicker, fluffier blanket from the second landing and wrapped it around herself.

“All this skin. It’s so... sensitive. And so susceptible to temperature changes. I know that rationally, this weather is perfect. A bit breezy, a bit crisp maybe, but perfect. I could walk around as a pony all day and not be the slightest bit bothered. But this new form... I want nothing more than to bundle myself up.”

“Sounds about right. It’s not unusual for women—ah, female humans—to want to layer up. They’re more sensitive to cold.”

Twilight nodded. “I used to think it was excessive, you wearing all those layers. Especially in winter. I suppose you actually do need them.”

“Not like you guys. I’ve seen more than a few of you make snow ponies and wear nothing at all.”

Twilight shivered at the prospect of making snow ponies on a human body alone, but then giggled.

“Does this mean humans in your world have settled mostly on warm areas?”

“At first, sure. That’s where we started out. As we got smarter and craftier, we figured out ways to adapt to all sorts of climates. Nowadays we’re spread out all over the world.” It took Anon a moment, but this made him realize he’d been searching for the answer to a particular question for some time now. “Speaking of, that’s something I’ve been wondering about you guys.” At Twilight’s encouraging nod, he continued. “The history books say you ponies weren’t originally from this land. You had your start somewhere else?”

Twilight nodded. “We don’t know exactly where we originated. Some bits and pieces have turned up throughout history, but record keeping methods were... unrefined in those days, and not always reliable. We don’t even know the name of the three tribes’ original homeland. The leading theory is that a majority of whatever records the old tribes did keep in those times were... left behind. Forgotten during the mass exodus to Equestria. Clover the Clever was able to salvage most of his personal collection and that alone is our largest repository of pre-Equestrian knowledge from the time, but who’s to say how many other sources were lost through the years.” She sighed wistfully. “All that knowledge. Well, I suppose we can’t judge them too harshly. The windigos were out in force back then. Times were... difficult. Resources scarce. It makes sense they would take with them only the bare essentials.” She brought up her knuckles to tap her chin. “The names, though. We don’t even know what our ancestors called their homeland. It’s... stuck with me. Why wouldn’t it be passed down? Not just us, but the earth ponies and pegasi as well. Every pony, every single new arrival to this land knew it. Why leave it behind? Why not preserve it for future generations? It must have been a deliberate action. I find it difficult to believe otherwise. There are some who think the ponies were ashamed of who they used to be. That their newfound connections and friendship shed a new light on the more... disreputable aspects of the societies they left behind. They chose to move on. By leaving the names and memories of their land behind—to be lost to history, they could forget and disassociate themselves from who they used to be, and start anew in the fresh, unspoiled lands of Equestria.”

She trailed off and appeared to be lost in thought. Anon waved a hand. He cleared his throat to get her attention. Twilight started out of her musings. Her eyes focused again on him and she ducked her head, abashed.

“Heh... sorry,” she said. “Uh, what were you saying?”

“About you ponies. I was wondering if there are more of you outside Equestria. The Crystal Empire too. Nothing I’ve seen suggests you guys have settled down outside of here.”

“Well, no. Why would we? Equestria has everything we could want.”

“And you guys never saw any reason to expand? Even before Celestia and Luna came along?” Twilight stared at him quizzically, and he elaborated. “To claim more lands or resources. Maybe... I dunno, some of the islands off the Equestrian Sea?”

“But some of those are claimed by Griffonstone. Others are inhabited, or settled by outlaws and pirates.”

“In my world, some hundreds of years ago, many nations would jump at the chance to claim such territories, sometimes by force. If nothing else than for a strategic advantage, in case tensions between nations escalate.”

“That... sounds like a guaranteed way to make sure tensions escalate.”

Anon snorted. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Ignore me,” he said, waving a hand. “Just another of those human things. Many of our leaders couldn’t help but stir things up. They still did in my time, come to think of it.”

“It sounds... chaotic.”

Anon laughed. “You’re not wrong on that either.” Twilight appeared disturbed. “Our people are descended from wanderers. Expansionists. Conquerors. Our blood runs a bit hotter than ponies, I guess. Probably explains why you guys are content to live and let live.”

He could see the poorly concealed interest in Twilight’s eyes and if Anon were honest with himself, he’d be just as keen to keep the conversation going. That is, if he hadn’t a more pressing matter to clear up. Namely, this whole botched transformation business. Twilight ducked her head a bit once he brought it up—a pony habit for showing chagrin or abashment, one she’d retained in her quasi-human form.

“I might have,” she said meekly. “Left something out, during the process.” She bit her lip. A small battle seemed to be going on inside her. “Once the process began and I cast the spell proper, I might have... altered it a little.” Twilight could see he readied to say something, and the words spilled forth from her in a rush. “I didn’t think anything would happen. It was supposed to be simple. I wanted to... to get a sense of your perspective. F-for what a female human was, I mean, how they looked like. I thought it was an interesting experiment, what you said. Walking for a day in the hooves of a pony? It made me think—the girls and I, you and us... we come from very different upbringings. I thought... well, if you were willing to do this, to try and understand us better, then we—I could do the same. I thought,” she blushed. “I thought it’s the least I could do, considering.”

Anon was silent for a long moment. Twilight began to fidget as it stretched.

“Guess Applejack was right.”

“How so?” she said.

“‘That girl’s a good enough pony. One of the best I met, I reckon, but she does have a way of leaping before she looks proper.’ Her words, more or less.”

“So you’re not angry?”

“Let’s just say I’m trying to keep an open mind. We both are, I think. Just, no more last-minute spell alterations. Or at least keep me informed. Deal?”

Twilight smiled tentatively. “Deal.”

Anon nodded and returned the smile. Twilight relaxed visibly.

“There’s still something I don’t understand,” he continued. “How did you transform? It’s not like you were trying for that... or were you?”

“I wasn’t,” she said thoughtfully. “I cast no such spell. It really was designed to scan you and nothing else, but...” Twilight trailed off, lost in thought. “Well, the first step to cast a spell is a conduit—that’s where a unicorn’s horn comes in; a way to channel and manipulate the flow of magic. Next, intent. I intended to cast a relatively simple, non-transformative spell. That went off without a hitch, although...” She lapsed into another bout of silence. Anon stayed quiet, knowing he was out of his depth here. “I transformed into a human,” she muttered. “But I didn’t intend to transform into one. So where could have it gone wrong, unless...” She looked up to Anon. He got the distinct feeling she was evaluating him, her eyes measuring him in terms of parts and ratios.

“During that whole process,” she continued. “Were you... thinking about something? What was going through your mind?”

Anon scratched the back of his head. “I mean... mostly I focused on what was going on. The spell and all. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a light show quite like that. But,” he continued. “Once everything started to get... brighter, I kinda started to get second thoughts.”

“And?” Twilight said encouragingly.

“And I reminded myself why I was going through all this. I...” he paused. “Transformation. That’s what was on my mind. Why I was there and why I wanted to do it.”

Twilight nodded feverishly. “I see. Even with Rarity’s help, I could sense your body was... resistant to the spell.”

“In what way? How does it even work?”

Twilight shook her head. “I don’t have nearly enough information to answer that question. If I had to come up with a possible theory—and that’s really all it is, I’d say your body is naturally resistant to Equestrian magic. From what I’ve been able to gather, magic does not exist in your world. Right?” Anon confirmed this. “Equestria is unusually abundant in ambient magic. It permeates everything and everywhere within its borders, especially here in the heartlands. And then there’s you. An unknown, outside factor. A non-magical entity. A foreign traveler from, possibly, another reality altogether, coming into contact for the first time ever with a panoptic force that has touched every creature and every corner of this world at their most fundamental levels since time immemorial.” She hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s not such a mystery altogether, though it is still a theory.”

“And how does that factor into you turning human? Ish.”

“Let’s review what we know for certain.” She held up a finger. “We know that with Rarity’s help, I successfully cast a spell on you. In casting the spell, I altered it to a degree—to better gain a human’s personal understanding of what a female variant is like.” She ticked off a second finger. “To cast a complex transformation—human to pony or otherwise—a strong and clear sense of intent is needed. Yours, for instance.” She now held up a thumb. “I channeled sufficient power into the spell right near the end. More than enough to carry out a transformation.” A fourth finger now. “You may not have noticed, but Rarity’s connection... broke. Overpowered by mine. While my own magical output surpasses hers, she has greater handle on precision—useful for more delicate and exact tasks. It does mean that without her help, I was unable to maintain the spell, as your body naturally rejected my magic... or vice versa. Still not enough data to make a solid conclusion. Anyway,” She ticked off her pinky. “Losing Rarity’s help resulted in a magical backlash, as both my magic and your body were incompatible. Let’s keep in mind that up to that point, the spell had more or less been cast successfully. You were suffused in my own magical touch—enveloped by it.”

Anon scratched his head. “And while you were trying to get a glimpse into what a human girl was, along with getting a good sense of the human form, I threw in my own intent into the mix.” Twilight nodded encouragingly. “So when everything went wrong and you got hit by your own spell, which carried my own baggage along with it...”

Twilight examined her hand. “It would explain why the transformation was... imperfect. I mean, I assume most humans don’t have this skin color? Or horns and wings, for that matter?”

Anon shook his head. “Not naturally. Things are much more vivid here. Back where I come from, the kinds of colors you ponies have are a defense mechanism—a way for animals to say ‘stay back, I’m poisonous’.”

“But we aren’t.”

“Well, I know that now,” Anon said. “I half expected Lyra to spit venom at me the first time she came up. For a little bit I weighed the odds whether or not I’d die just by touching you guys.” Twilight snorted. She brought a hand up to her mouth, overcome by a fit of giggles. Anon chuckled along with her.

They lapsed into a silence. Anon felt lighter somehow. Maybe things weren’t completely beyond reconciliation with her.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight said. In her hand she twirled a lock of her hair—a nervous fidget on her part. “I never said it, did I? Sorry for all this. What I tried to do. Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, the others... they would have left well enough alone if I didn’t put them up for it all. Heat relief.”

“I see,” Anon said, his smile fading. “If we’re going that route then I should meet you halfway.” Twilight waited patiently. “Sorry. For the other night. I could have handled that better. I guess from your perspective I just decided to go and be a dick all of a sudden. Shouldn’t have... played with you like that.”

Twilight looked away, her eyes downcast. A faint tinge of red blossomed in her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said softly. Anon nodded. A more comfortable silence now, both lost in their thoughts.

“Well,” he said. “They say third time’s the charm.” Twilight looked up. “We’ve made mistakes, you and me. That goes without saying, but I think we have a better idea of who and what we’re dealing with here. So.” He extended a hand. “What do you say we start over? Again.”

Twilight smiled shyly. “Anonymous.” She extended her smaller hand and clasped it to his. “I’d like that very much.”

Author's Note

Pre-read by Elric of Melnipony