I Can Fix Herby I Vicious IChaptersWhy Do Ponys Sing in Public?I Hate TrottingThat's my chair...Why Do Ponys Sing in Public?The city raged in celebration, a cacophony of jubilant cheers echoed through the bustling streets. The air was thick with the pungent aroma of street food vendors, their savory offerings mingling with the sweet scent of blooming flowers from nearby gardens. Laughter and animated chatter created a symphony of sound, punctuated by distant music that reverberated through the lively atmosphere. As jubilation permeated the scene, the vibrant visuals unfolded. Huge posters of opaline adorned every wall of every building, a tapestry of victory marked by an emphatic 'X' across her face. The bright colors of the celebration, a kaleidoscope of hues from the swirling decorations, clashed against the muted tones of the city's architecture, creating a surreal visual contrast. Beneath the celebration, the ground thrummed with the rhythmic vibrations of music and dancing hooves. The palpable energy of the revelers seemed to pulse through Equiis itself, creating a dynamic undercurrent that added depth to the sensory overload. Hitch sat with a wearied gaze, solitary at the police station. He sifted slowly through paperwork, each sip of his hot apple cider was met with a subtle grimace at its bitter undertones, But they did their job and thwarted his body as it attempted to slumber. While fellow ponys reveled in nightly festivities, making a habit of late revelry for weeks now, Hitch found himself with little control over his own sleep routine. The police station's front door swung open abruptly as Sunny entered with a burst of energy. Her steps lacked any sense of urgency, and she grinned sheepishly at Hitch. Hitch cast a sidelong glance at her, remarking, "You know, most ponys knock before entering; it's considered polite." He said with a bemused expression. Sunny responded by playfully sticking out her tongue. "It's also considered polite to join your friends when they invite you to a party," she shot back, her voice carrying a gentle playfulness. Hitch shook his head, a routine response to Sunny's nightly appearances over the past few weeks. "Come on, Hitch, there's hardly any crime in this city. You can take a night off." Hitch glanced down at the 'busy' night of paperwork, his focus fixed on the single citation he had been reading repeatedly, attempting to feign productivity. The offense in question involved a pony who had broken into song in public without the proper paperwork. While such a violation might have been overlooked, the singing voice in question had the uncanny ability to curdle milk. "Come on; Misty and Zipp have been asking about you all night. Come out and join us!" she urged enthusiastically. Hitch shook his head. "That's exactly why I don't want to go out, I know they've both had eyes on me for a while now, " he said glumly. Sunny rolled her eyes. "Wow, I think you might be the only stallion in Equestria who's disappointed that two pretty mares want his c..." "They're not just any mares," he interjected. "They're among my best friends; practically sisters to me." Sonny opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it. "Even if I did choose one, I wouldn't want to hurt the other, or worse, have the two mares be bitter towards one another," he said softly, his eyes once again finding the solitary record of a citation on his desk. Sunny nodded, having lost her joyful enthusiasm. "You're still welcome to join us if you change your mind," she said with a touch of hesitancy, as though extending an olive branch in a garden of uncertainty. "I can always keep those two in check." Hitch didn't answer, his gaze returning to the lone piece of paper on his desk, a blank canvas awaiting the brushstrokes of his thoughts. The room echoed with the unsung melody of unspoken words, each syllable a quiet note in the symphony of contemplation. Sunny gave a small, reassuring smile, a flicker of warmth in the cool air of indecision, as she turned to leave. The door closed behind her like the hushed finale of a poignant chapter, leaving Hitch alone with the unwritten narratives of his solitude. He watched the door gently surrender to gravity, closing behind her with a muted thud that reverberated through the desolate station like a solemn heartbeat. The echo lingered, filling the empty spaces with a melancholic resonance, as if the station itself sighed in quiet solitude. As Hitch shifted his attention back to the paperwork, a faint crease appeared between his brows, a subtle map of irritation etched on his forehead. He sighed, the sound carrying a trace of impatience, as if the weight of the task before him had suddenly become much more burdensome. His hooves tapped rhythmically on the desk, a muted drumbeat of vexation, as he glanced at the clock with a hint of irritation, silently wishing time would move a bit faster. I Hate TrottingThe landscape was a desolate tableau of destruction. Opaline's once towering spire was now reduced to a chaotic heap of rubble. Broken shards of enchanted crystal glinted dully among the cracked stone and broken glass. The air was eerily silent, devoid of the usual hum of magical energies that used to surround Opaline's tower. The only audible sounds were the occasional creaks and groans of the remaining debris, settling into their final resting places. A mournful breeze whispered through the wreckage, and carried with it the echoes of a time when Opaline had reigned supreme. The air was filled with the scent of destruction and renewal. The aroma of burnt wood mingled with the earthy fragrance of upturned soil, a result of the tree's forceful impact where Opaline's castle once stood. The majestic tree now stretched its long branches into the heavens above. The mountainside it rose from basked in the warmth of bright sunlight, as the darkness that had once engulfed the region retreated. The returning life brought with it the heavenly aroma of springtime plants and filled the air with a rejuvenating fragrance." As the sun reached its apex in the sky, a low hum of magic began to resonate, it steadily rose until its prelude gave way to a flash of bright pink light. Outside the tree, Opaline stood as she breathed heavily. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the first light she had seen in weeks. She attempted to take a step forward, but instead stumbled and found herself plowed into the dirt, face-first. Ordinarily, she would have cursed the ground, the sun, and the now throbbing imprint on her face; but today, the pain was welcome. With every beat of her heart, a new impulse of pain passed through a fresh bruise on her face—a joyful reminder that she was somehow alive. She coughed deeply, a few pieces of wood flew from her mouth onto the ground as she struggled to right herself. She had finally found her footing. She looked around, taking in the view of the disgusting tree that had once been her glorious castle. Furrowing her brow in disgust, her path forward became clearer than ever before. Those ponys would pay for what they did to her, and she would stop at nothing to reclaim her power. Her horn charged as she prepared to teleport directly to the Brighthouse. With Twilight's barriers gone, the biggest obstacles in her way was eliminated, and she would now march through the front door to claim what was rightfully hers, the Unity Crystals. No games this time, no tricks, just a brutal frontal assault. However, her horn had its own ideas, and it fizzled at this thought, with a quiet whoosh as though a flame was being extinguished. Confused, she performed the spell again, only to experience the same result. Instead of finding herself in front of the Brighthouse, her horn threw sparks through the air. It dawned on Opaline—her magic was almost drained. Like a permanent magical wound, her body wasn't recovering her magical reserves. "This is impossible!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the ruins like a thunderclap. "How can I, the most formidable being in all of Equestria, find myself on the brink of running dry on magic?" Her frustration resonated in the air, a tempest of power restrained. A sigh escaped her lips, as she carried the weight of thwarted plans that had relied on sheer magical might. It became evident that a brute force assault was no longer an option. She found herself in possession of just enough magic for one mid-level spell. This predicament demanded finesse over ferocity. After a contemplative pause, an ominous grin etched itself across her face, a shadowy dance of malevolence. "Those ponys," she mused, eyes gleaming with cunning, "are too trusting. If I were to transform my appearance, I could seamlessly infiltrate their ranks and pilfer their magic right from under their unsuspecting snouts." The brilliance of this twisted stratagem sparked an unholy delight within her, prompting a maniacal laughter that reverberated through the dark corridors of her thoughts. "Mwah ha ha ha ha ha! Misty, laugh with..." Her voice trailed off, the realization dawning that her once-loyal assistant had betrayed her. The agony of that betrayal flickered briefly, but she quashed it, reminding herself of the insignificance of such emotional trifles. For an Alicorn, feelings were deemed frivolous, even though the sting of losing her only companion lingered. A creature of power and might, she brushed aside the twinge of sorrow, repeating the mantra that a being of her stature had no room for such mundane concerns, no matter how sharp the ache. With the last of her magic forced through her horn, her body began to change. In a flash of light her horn was gone and her body donned a fresh hew. Finding a sizable shard of reflective crystal, she gazed into it, contemplating what reflected back. She was a Pegasus now, she admired the reflection of her transformed self. The once-vibrant Alicorn was gone, replaced by a sleek, dark-blue-coated Pegasus with a striking silver mane. Despite having no magic left for flight, she couldn't deny that the result was indeed impressive. The transformation had given her a new, captivating appearance. "Ugh, a Pegasus that can't even fly, this form would have been useless if I didn't make it look so good" she mused. The first step of her revenge unfolded seamlessly, a calculated dance of retribution completed. Maretime Bay beckoned in the distance, the sheepish grin on her face transformed into a solemn acknowledgment as the distant lights mocked her absence of magic. A melodramatic groan escaped her lips, an echo of the daunting distance to the city, and with determined resolve, she began to trot, each step a testament to the long path ahead. That's my chair...The echo of Opalines hooves against the cobblestones reverberated through the empty spaces, emphasizing the solitude that enveloped her. The rhythmic sound was irregular, and betrayed her fatigue and the strain of her journey. Her breaths come in ragged gasps, intermingling with the cool evening breeze that carried a faint scent of petrichor, a promise of raindrops soon to fall. Opaline's once-lustrous coat now glistened with a sheen of sweat, and reflected the ambient light like a muted opal. Her eyes, wide and weary, dart around as if searching for a respite that remains elusive. The weight of exhaustion was palpable in the way she stumbled over uneven paved stones, occasionally she would catch herself on the edges of quaint storefronts. As she moved, the air seemed to thicken with a sense of urgency, her hooves scraped against the ground like a weary heartbeat. Opaline staggered through the town, her body was pushed beyond its limits. Relying on her wings and teleportation to get around had taken a toll on her physical well-being. If not for the stairs in her castle, she would have lacked any semblance of regular exercise. Her fatigue began to fade as a sudden surge of energy and rage overcame her upon seeing posters bearing her image plastered on every wall of every building. “The audacity to insult my exquisite face," she exclaimed at the indignation, "I will command the respect these ponies that I deserve before the day is through," she declared, her determination was unwavering. She gazed at the setting sun positioned just above the horizon, she contemplated, "Or perhaps tomorrow, when I..." Seating herself, she became acutely aware once again of the exhaustion that permeated her body. "Such a swift descent from grace," she mused, acutely aware of the distance she had plummeted from power in such a brief span; how the ponies had usurped the magic that was rightfully hers. She reclined on the bench, fully cognizant that her mind had swiftly succumbed to the relentless dominance of fatigue. The weary tyrant conceded defeat, and gave way to unconsciousness on the bench. Awakening to the gentle tapping of a hoof on her shoulder, she struggled to half-open her eyes. Upon encountering Hitch poking her, she dismissed it as a nightmare and allowed herself to drift back into slumber. "Ma'am, are you okay?" were the final words she registered before succumbing once again to unconsciousness. Opaline slowly opened her eyes, and was greeted by the soft glow of muted sunlight filtering through heavy curtains. The room felt cool, and as she shifted in the unfamiliar bed, she noticed the crisp, clean sheets beneath her hooves. The faint rustle of fabric hinted at the presence of curtains gently swaying in the breeze from an open window. The room carried a distinct scent that filled her senses—the comforting aroma of tea infused with honey. The fragrance wafted from a small wooden tray on the bedside table, where a steaming cup of chamomile tea awaited her. The sweet, floral notes of honey lingered in the air, creating a soothing atmosphere that contrasted with the air of uncertainty surrounding her. As Opaline sat up, the creaking of the bed frame beneath her added a subtle auditory layer to the scene. She took a deep breath, inhaling the calming scent of the tea once more, and her ears caught the distant hum of activity outside the closed door—muffled voices, hoofsteps, and the occasional shuffle of paperwork. Her bare hooves met the cool, smooth surface of the stone floor.. The room had a certain hollowness, hinting at its institutional nature. She stood up and approached the window, the light filtering through the curtains warming her face. Peering through the fabric, Opaline saw the world outside, bathed in soft afternoon light. "How did I end up here?" she wondered, pondering the events that led to her current situation. The last recollection was of reclining in a public space, a notion she audibly scoffed at, finding it distasteful and incongruent with her usual standards. "Good morning," greeted a familiar orange Earth pony as he entered the cell. Opaline bit her tongue, suppressing the urge to lash out at him for being part of those who sabotaged her grand plan. "I apologize for the lack of amenities. This is the guest bedroom in the police station." "A police station?" Opaline pondered. Had her deception been so easily uncovered, and was this cunning pony now merely toying with her? Hitch smiled, "When you're ready, I have tea and biscuits in the main area of the station. I hope they're to your liking." Opaline grinned, evidently he hadn’t figured it out.. Bounding out of bed, Opaline brushed past Hitch, trotting into the main area. She boldly claimed Hitch's seat, seized a biscuit with her wing, and took a hearty bite. Hitch hesitated, settling into the seat beside her, looking uncertain about what to do next. "Hey, I was pretty worried about you last night. I thought you might have had one too many apple ciders, and I wanted to make sure you had a place to sleep it off safely," Hitch explained. This brought about a momentary pause from Opaline. When was the last time a pony did anything for her without being ordered? She cast a thoughtful glance at Hitch before resuming her focus on the food. . Hitch stared at her for a moment; unicorns were generally larger than other races, but even by those standards, she was rather sizable, towering over him. Her hair featured a traditional curl, with highlights that ran through the strands, and her fur boasted a stunning, deep blue hue. As he turned his eyes towards her, he was caught off guard when she asked, "What are you looking at?" Surprised that she had picked up on his subtle glances, he stammered for a moment before composing himself. "I... um... How are you feeling after last night?" Hitch inquired, his concern evident in his hesitant words. "Exhausted," she snapped, catching Hitch off guard. It was as if she suddenly became aware of her surroundings, and her demeanor shifted. "I mean, I'm okay. Thanks for helping me," she added, adopting a more composed tone. She understood that if she didn't want to raise suspicion, playing the part of a regular pony was essential. Hitch seemed satisfied with her response, and internally, she breathed a sigh of relief. She nodded, a small but genuine thank-you — more than anypony had received from her in a long time. Which got a small smile from Hitch in return. "If you're still feeling worse for wear, I can take you to a hayburger restaurant. I could buy you a meal and get your fluids replenished after last night," Hitch offered, displaying a genuine concern for her well-being. This elicited a smile from Opaline. Not only had her sworn enemy assisted her in recovering from exhaustion, but now he was offering to pay for her food. How delicious. "I'd like that; what a gentlestalion you are," she remarked, the irony not lost on her. Both ponies grinned at each other, each harboring entirely different reasons for their amusement.
Why Do Ponys Sing in Public?The city raged in celebration, a cacophony of jubilant cheers echoed through the bustling streets. The air was thick with the pungent aroma of street food vendors, their savory offerings mingling with the sweet scent of blooming flowers from nearby gardens. Laughter and animated chatter created a symphony of sound, punctuated by distant music that reverberated through the lively atmosphere. As jubilation permeated the scene, the vibrant visuals unfolded. Huge posters of opaline adorned every wall of every building, a tapestry of victory marked by an emphatic 'X' across her face. The bright colors of the celebration, a kaleidoscope of hues from the swirling decorations, clashed against the muted tones of the city's architecture, creating a surreal visual contrast. Beneath the celebration, the ground thrummed with the rhythmic vibrations of music and dancing hooves. The palpable energy of the revelers seemed to pulse through Equiis itself, creating a dynamic undercurrent that added depth to the sensory overload. Hitch sat with a wearied gaze, solitary at the police station. He sifted slowly through paperwork, each sip of his hot apple cider was met with a subtle grimace at its bitter undertones, But they did their job and thwarted his body as it attempted to slumber. While fellow ponys reveled in nightly festivities, making a habit of late revelry for weeks now, Hitch found himself with little control over his own sleep routine. The police station's front door swung open abruptly as Sunny entered with a burst of energy. Her steps lacked any sense of urgency, and she grinned sheepishly at Hitch. Hitch cast a sidelong glance at her, remarking, "You know, most ponys knock before entering; it's considered polite." He said with a bemused expression. Sunny responded by playfully sticking out her tongue. "It's also considered polite to join your friends when they invite you to a party," she shot back, her voice carrying a gentle playfulness. Hitch shook his head, a routine response to Sunny's nightly appearances over the past few weeks. "Come on, Hitch, there's hardly any crime in this city. You can take a night off." Hitch glanced down at the 'busy' night of paperwork, his focus fixed on the single citation he had been reading repeatedly, attempting to feign productivity. The offense in question involved a pony who had broken into song in public without the proper paperwork. While such a violation might have been overlooked, the singing voice in question had the uncanny ability to curdle milk. "Come on; Misty and Zipp have been asking about you all night. Come out and join us!" she urged enthusiastically. Hitch shook his head. "That's exactly why I don't want to go out, I know they've both had eyes on me for a while now, " he said glumly. Sunny rolled her eyes. "Wow, I think you might be the only stallion in Equestria who's disappointed that two pretty mares want his c..." "They're not just any mares," he interjected. "They're among my best friends; practically sisters to me." Sonny opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it. "Even if I did choose one, I wouldn't want to hurt the other, or worse, have the two mares be bitter towards one another," he said softly, his eyes once again finding the solitary record of a citation on his desk. Sunny nodded, having lost her joyful enthusiasm. "You're still welcome to join us if you change your mind," she said with a touch of hesitancy, as though extending an olive branch in a garden of uncertainty. "I can always keep those two in check." Hitch didn't answer, his gaze returning to the lone piece of paper on his desk, a blank canvas awaiting the brushstrokes of his thoughts. The room echoed with the unsung melody of unspoken words, each syllable a quiet note in the symphony of contemplation. Sunny gave a small, reassuring smile, a flicker of warmth in the cool air of indecision, as she turned to leave. The door closed behind her like the hushed finale of a poignant chapter, leaving Hitch alone with the unwritten narratives of his solitude. He watched the door gently surrender to gravity, closing behind her with a muted thud that reverberated through the desolate station like a solemn heartbeat. The echo lingered, filling the empty spaces with a melancholic resonance, as if the station itself sighed in quiet solitude. As Hitch shifted his attention back to the paperwork, a faint crease appeared between his brows, a subtle map of irritation etched on his forehead. He sighed, the sound carrying a trace of impatience, as if the weight of the task before him had suddenly become much more burdensome. His hooves tapped rhythmically on the desk, a muted drumbeat of vexation, as he glanced at the clock with a hint of irritation, silently wishing time would move a bit faster.
I Hate TrottingThe landscape was a desolate tableau of destruction. Opaline's once towering spire was now reduced to a chaotic heap of rubble. Broken shards of enchanted crystal glinted dully among the cracked stone and broken glass. The air was eerily silent, devoid of the usual hum of magical energies that used to surround Opaline's tower. The only audible sounds were the occasional creaks and groans of the remaining debris, settling into their final resting places. A mournful breeze whispered through the wreckage, and carried with it the echoes of a time when Opaline had reigned supreme. The air was filled with the scent of destruction and renewal. The aroma of burnt wood mingled with the earthy fragrance of upturned soil, a result of the tree's forceful impact where Opaline's castle once stood. The majestic tree now stretched its long branches into the heavens above. The mountainside it rose from basked in the warmth of bright sunlight, as the darkness that had once engulfed the region retreated. The returning life brought with it the heavenly aroma of springtime plants and filled the air with a rejuvenating fragrance." As the sun reached its apex in the sky, a low hum of magic began to resonate, it steadily rose until its prelude gave way to a flash of bright pink light. Outside the tree, Opaline stood as she breathed heavily. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the first light she had seen in weeks. She attempted to take a step forward, but instead stumbled and found herself plowed into the dirt, face-first. Ordinarily, she would have cursed the ground, the sun, and the now throbbing imprint on her face; but today, the pain was welcome. With every beat of her heart, a new impulse of pain passed through a fresh bruise on her face—a joyful reminder that she was somehow alive. She coughed deeply, a few pieces of wood flew from her mouth onto the ground as she struggled to right herself. She had finally found her footing. She looked around, taking in the view of the disgusting tree that had once been her glorious castle. Furrowing her brow in disgust, her path forward became clearer than ever before. Those ponys would pay for what they did to her, and she would stop at nothing to reclaim her power. Her horn charged as she prepared to teleport directly to the Brighthouse. With Twilight's barriers gone, the biggest obstacles in her way was eliminated, and she would now march through the front door to claim what was rightfully hers, the Unity Crystals. No games this time, no tricks, just a brutal frontal assault. However, her horn had its own ideas, and it fizzled at this thought, with a quiet whoosh as though a flame was being extinguished. Confused, she performed the spell again, only to experience the same result. Instead of finding herself in front of the Brighthouse, her horn threw sparks through the air. It dawned on Opaline—her magic was almost drained. Like a permanent magical wound, her body wasn't recovering her magical reserves. "This is impossible!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the ruins like a thunderclap. "How can I, the most formidable being in all of Equestria, find myself on the brink of running dry on magic?" Her frustration resonated in the air, a tempest of power restrained. A sigh escaped her lips, as she carried the weight of thwarted plans that had relied on sheer magical might. It became evident that a brute force assault was no longer an option. She found herself in possession of just enough magic for one mid-level spell. This predicament demanded finesse over ferocity. After a contemplative pause, an ominous grin etched itself across her face, a shadowy dance of malevolence. "Those ponys," she mused, eyes gleaming with cunning, "are too trusting. If I were to transform my appearance, I could seamlessly infiltrate their ranks and pilfer their magic right from under their unsuspecting snouts." The brilliance of this twisted stratagem sparked an unholy delight within her, prompting a maniacal laughter that reverberated through the dark corridors of her thoughts. "Mwah ha ha ha ha ha! Misty, laugh with..." Her voice trailed off, the realization dawning that her once-loyal assistant had betrayed her. The agony of that betrayal flickered briefly, but she quashed it, reminding herself of the insignificance of such emotional trifles. For an Alicorn, feelings were deemed frivolous, even though the sting of losing her only companion lingered. A creature of power and might, she brushed aside the twinge of sorrow, repeating the mantra that a being of her stature had no room for such mundane concerns, no matter how sharp the ache. With the last of her magic forced through her horn, her body began to change. In a flash of light her horn was gone and her body donned a fresh hew. Finding a sizable shard of reflective crystal, she gazed into it, contemplating what reflected back. She was a Pegasus now, she admired the reflection of her transformed self. The once-vibrant Alicorn was gone, replaced by a sleek, dark-blue-coated Pegasus with a striking silver mane. Despite having no magic left for flight, she couldn't deny that the result was indeed impressive. The transformation had given her a new, captivating appearance. "Ugh, a Pegasus that can't even fly, this form would have been useless if I didn't make it look so good" she mused. The first step of her revenge unfolded seamlessly, a calculated dance of retribution completed. Maretime Bay beckoned in the distance, the sheepish grin on her face transformed into a solemn acknowledgment as the distant lights mocked her absence of magic. A melodramatic groan escaped her lips, an echo of the daunting distance to the city, and with determined resolve, she began to trot, each step a testament to the long path ahead.
That's my chair...The echo of Opalines hooves against the cobblestones reverberated through the empty spaces, emphasizing the solitude that enveloped her. The rhythmic sound was irregular, and betrayed her fatigue and the strain of her journey. Her breaths come in ragged gasps, intermingling with the cool evening breeze that carried a faint scent of petrichor, a promise of raindrops soon to fall. Opaline's once-lustrous coat now glistened with a sheen of sweat, and reflected the ambient light like a muted opal. Her eyes, wide and weary, dart around as if searching for a respite that remains elusive. The weight of exhaustion was palpable in the way she stumbled over uneven paved stones, occasionally she would catch herself on the edges of quaint storefronts. As she moved, the air seemed to thicken with a sense of urgency, her hooves scraped against the ground like a weary heartbeat. Opaline staggered through the town, her body was pushed beyond its limits. Relying on her wings and teleportation to get around had taken a toll on her physical well-being. If not for the stairs in her castle, she would have lacked any semblance of regular exercise. Her fatigue began to fade as a sudden surge of energy and rage overcame her upon seeing posters bearing her image plastered on every wall of every building. “The audacity to insult my exquisite face," she exclaimed at the indignation, "I will command the respect these ponies that I deserve before the day is through," she declared, her determination was unwavering. She gazed at the setting sun positioned just above the horizon, she contemplated, "Or perhaps tomorrow, when I..." Seating herself, she became acutely aware once again of the exhaustion that permeated her body. "Such a swift descent from grace," she mused, acutely aware of the distance she had plummeted from power in such a brief span; how the ponies had usurped the magic that was rightfully hers. She reclined on the bench, fully cognizant that her mind had swiftly succumbed to the relentless dominance of fatigue. The weary tyrant conceded defeat, and gave way to unconsciousness on the bench. Awakening to the gentle tapping of a hoof on her shoulder, she struggled to half-open her eyes. Upon encountering Hitch poking her, she dismissed it as a nightmare and allowed herself to drift back into slumber. "Ma'am, are you okay?" were the final words she registered before succumbing once again to unconsciousness. Opaline slowly opened her eyes, and was greeted by the soft glow of muted sunlight filtering through heavy curtains. The room felt cool, and as she shifted in the unfamiliar bed, she noticed the crisp, clean sheets beneath her hooves. The faint rustle of fabric hinted at the presence of curtains gently swaying in the breeze from an open window. The room carried a distinct scent that filled her senses—the comforting aroma of tea infused with honey. The fragrance wafted from a small wooden tray on the bedside table, where a steaming cup of chamomile tea awaited her. The sweet, floral notes of honey lingered in the air, creating a soothing atmosphere that contrasted with the air of uncertainty surrounding her. As Opaline sat up, the creaking of the bed frame beneath her added a subtle auditory layer to the scene. She took a deep breath, inhaling the calming scent of the tea once more, and her ears caught the distant hum of activity outside the closed door—muffled voices, hoofsteps, and the occasional shuffle of paperwork. Her bare hooves met the cool, smooth surface of the stone floor.. The room had a certain hollowness, hinting at its institutional nature. She stood up and approached the window, the light filtering through the curtains warming her face. Peering through the fabric, Opaline saw the world outside, bathed in soft afternoon light. "How did I end up here?" she wondered, pondering the events that led to her current situation. The last recollection was of reclining in a public space, a notion she audibly scoffed at, finding it distasteful and incongruent with her usual standards. "Good morning," greeted a familiar orange Earth pony as he entered the cell. Opaline bit her tongue, suppressing the urge to lash out at him for being part of those who sabotaged her grand plan. "I apologize for the lack of amenities. This is the guest bedroom in the police station." "A police station?" Opaline pondered. Had her deception been so easily uncovered, and was this cunning pony now merely toying with her? Hitch smiled, "When you're ready, I have tea and biscuits in the main area of the station. I hope they're to your liking." Opaline grinned, evidently he hadn’t figured it out.. Bounding out of bed, Opaline brushed past Hitch, trotting into the main area. She boldly claimed Hitch's seat, seized a biscuit with her wing, and took a hearty bite. Hitch hesitated, settling into the seat beside her, looking uncertain about what to do next. "Hey, I was pretty worried about you last night. I thought you might have had one too many apple ciders, and I wanted to make sure you had a place to sleep it off safely," Hitch explained. This brought about a momentary pause from Opaline. When was the last time a pony did anything for her without being ordered? She cast a thoughtful glance at Hitch before resuming her focus on the food. . Hitch stared at her for a moment; unicorns were generally larger than other races, but even by those standards, she was rather sizable, towering over him. Her hair featured a traditional curl, with highlights that ran through the strands, and her fur boasted a stunning, deep blue hue. As he turned his eyes towards her, he was caught off guard when she asked, "What are you looking at?" Surprised that she had picked up on his subtle glances, he stammered for a moment before composing himself. "I... um... How are you feeling after last night?" Hitch inquired, his concern evident in his hesitant words. "Exhausted," she snapped, catching Hitch off guard. It was as if she suddenly became aware of her surroundings, and her demeanor shifted. "I mean, I'm okay. Thanks for helping me," she added, adopting a more composed tone. She understood that if she didn't want to raise suspicion, playing the part of a regular pony was essential. Hitch seemed satisfied with her response, and internally, she breathed a sigh of relief. She nodded, a small but genuine thank-you — more than anypony had received from her in a long time. Which got a small smile from Hitch in return. "If you're still feeling worse for wear, I can take you to a hayburger restaurant. I could buy you a meal and get your fluids replenished after last night," Hitch offered, displaying a genuine concern for her well-being. This elicited a smile from Opaline. Not only had her sworn enemy assisted her in recovering from exhaustion, but now he was offering to pay for her food. How delicious. "I'd like that; what a gentlestalion you are," she remarked, the irony not lost on her. Both ponies grinned at each other, each harboring entirely different reasons for their amusement.
