The Tritone Disappearance of Paprika Blues

by PaprikaBluesAndCo

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Violence, Sex, Profanity, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Death, Alternate Universe, Human, Narcotics, Thriller, Original Character, Trixie, Self Insert
Length: 10387

A city slicker from Manehattan braves the human world in the hopes of finding her best friend again.

Magnetic North and Paprika Blues were the best of friends since foalhood. They took on Manehattan together and were prepared to be friends forever. But after a night of drinking, Paprika disappeared with hardly a trace.

Convinced that Paprika is still alive, Magnetic convinces a great and powerful unicorn to help find her whereabouts - and maybe rescue her from an alien world that is killing her artistic soul in the process.

Based on True Events™!

Published 2024-04-11 13:50:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-08-19 12:41:02 UTC

Tweens and Compositing

We're in a city, but it stinks. Bad. Trixie wrinkles her nose in disgust.
"It smells worse than Flame Geyser Swamp!" She pulls out a rag from somewhere under her cape and wraps it around her snout.
Smart move, honestly, but I didn't think to bring any supplies.
We're in an alleyway of sorts, and -

A piercing, wailing noise breaks my train of thought. I turn towards the direction of the noise, and see a - a human, running past the alleyway looking extremely frightened. A massive metal carriage roars and barrels through a few seconds later, definitely the source of the noise. I'm half certain it had the word "POLICE" etched into the side of the carriage.

Great. Even in another universe, there's cops.
Trixie and I stick our heads out of the alley at the same time, and see humans strolling idly around.

It's an entire goddamn human civilization. They're all a bit taller than the average pony, by at least thirty or so centimeters, generally, but height seemed to vary.

"Okay, well, we're gonna stick out like a broken hoof if we don't have a disguise." I groan. "You know any transformation magic?'

"Pfft. Trixie does illusion magic best, Miss North. If you wish to remain hidden among these aliens, avoid being touched."

She lights up her horn, and I can see another.. me, overlaid on top of my mostly invisible body.
It's a damn good illusion, I'll give it that. My reflection in a nearby window barely resembles a pony - I'm the spitting image of a human, down to the weird short nose and beady little eyes. The perspective is a little off, so my real eyes are about where my chest looks to be.

Wait, why are the teats on the chest?? Weird. Kinda cool, but weird.
"Trixie thinks she performed admirably in this spell!"
"I guess so. But just in case we walk out into the street and humans can see through illusion magic, what's plan B?"

Trixie hums. "Trixie supposes she can make a distraction with fireworks."

The earth pony side of my blood goes haywire in warning. My fetlocks get all tingly in fear, and I hold a hoof up to her withers to stop her. "No! Nononono. Bad idea. Baaaad idea."

Trixie looks bemused. "Trixie does not have bad ideas."
"Listen, trust me, I'm the one with more Earth pony in my blood. The air and ground are so dry here, that a single fire could spread into a big ass inferno."
"When you say, 'more Earth pony'... you're implying you're not fully that. What's.. the rest of you..?"
My ear flicks. "Let's not talk about that."

We wander the city for a little while, and I honestly feel completely in my element. Trixie keeps challenging me, saying things like, "Tell Trixie where the next stop on the route of that mobile trolley is!"
I jerk my thumb in a direction, we go there, and bam. Another trolley stop for the route. Oh, wait, no, it says it's a "bus".
"You're cheating!"
"I'm not cheating. Being a city slicker is my whole deal. It's my cutie mark."
"That's not true, your cutie mark is a compass with a dagger as the needle."
"Yeah, cuz I'm sharp. I got street smarts."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Trixie does not believe you. There has to be more to your cutie mark than being able to traverse one specific type of environment!"

Just then, a human that was sitting by a stand approaches us, holding a clip board with their paw.
"Excuse me, I'd like to ask you lovely ladies a few questions about your electricity bill!"

I look over at her stand. There's a banner that reads, "MANAHEMO ENERGY SOLUTIONS, LLC."

Trixie jabs me in the side, and whispers, "Hey, North, look. Didn't that book have the same name..?"
"It did." I nod and mutter back.

"Uh.. sure?" I give the lady a weird look.
"Are you satisfied with the rate you pay for your current electricity bill?"
"I guess so."
"How much would you say you pay monthly?"

Ah shit, I hadn't gotten that far.
"Uh-"
"Actually, Trixie would like to ask about your company." Trixie says, slightly hoity toity. "Where we are from, we have subsidizing from the government, and therefore have no need for any imprrrrovements to our bill."

The lady looks at Trixie with a slightly tense look on her face. "Oh, uh, congratulations?"
"Thank you," Trixie continues, "Anyways, I've never heard of your company before. Are you accredited? Are you one of those services that starts off cheap and then ramps up the bill after your customers have gotten used to seeing your name?"
"Ah- no, no no no! We don't scam customers, not at all!"
"Sounds like something a scammer would say." Trixie ripostes with a raised eyebrow.
"No, really! We're an upstart company, experimenting with a new source for energy. It's clean, efficient, and holds none of the caveats that other renewable energy sources come with!"
"Really? Then what is it?" I ask.

The lady makes a bit of a noncommittal shrug. "It's still under wraps until the testing is complete, this is just the company reaching out to the public to see who might be interested!"

Trixie raises her hoof- hand up, palm out towards her.
"Trixie has dealt with many a grifter in her career as a magician," and here she flourishes her cape dramatically, "And unfortunately, that sounds too much like the Flim Flam brothers. Trixie has decided she is not interested, thank you!"

And Trixie starts to walk away. The lady turns to me, and tries again. "Well, maybe you-"
"Yeah, nah, I'm not interested either." I turn to follow Trixie.

The lady's smile gets really tight, and she says, "Okay, have a good day!"
As we walk off, I hear her mutter, "Fucking New York tourists."

Okay. I sound like a New Yorker. Good to know.

We end up at a library, after a while. There's a sign out front advertising the fact that they have free water, which confuses me. Water is free, generally, right? It's water. You can't put a price on water. Everypony - no, everyBODY, needs water.

"Now that I think about it, some water would be primo, right now." I clear my throat.
"Trixie agrees. Shall we take a rest here, Miss North?"
"From one library to the next, I guess."

I count my lucky stars when I see how the water fountain is operated. It's so strangely shaped - like an upside down metal L, buttons on the side, and the spout on top. Most of the humans I see drinking from it have to bend over to reach it.

I guess it makes less of a mess than an Equestrian water fountain, but it still doesn't feel right.

When I get back, I find that Trixie is boasting to the librarian at the front desk - and frankly she looks enraptured.

I see a poster on the corkboard by the front desk full of different advertisements for community events and such.
One of them catches my eye.
"Ever feel like you're not human? Like you were meant to be a different creature, one that chirps, or roars, or howls, or whinnies?
You may just be therian! And you're not alone! Come to Felicia's Dive Bar on 107 Sturges Avenue after closing to meet for a weekly support group! We meet on Tuesdays."

Okay. That's a really good start.
The librarian is excitedly discussing potential shows for the teen meetups when she sees the kinda magic Trixie can do - slight-of-hoof magic, not like, magic magic. She's trying her best to keep it quiet, but just slightly failing, and some cranky old dam is staring daggers at the two of them.

"Hey, uh, weird question, what day of the week is it?"
The librarian looks at me with a little concern. "It's a Tuesday. Why?"
"Oh, no reason, I just have a weird brain that forgets what day it is, pretty often."

The librarian nods. "Ohhh, yeah, my cousin up north, Moitié has that problem. It's so funny, she'll ramble on and on about magic being real, and all her studies into the occult, and then forget what she had planned for dinner."

"Ah yes, that sounds quite like you, North." Trixie grins at me.
I know she's playing up the lie so that my bluff about not knowing the date makes sense, but mare, buck offffff. I snort and tap her on the shoulder.

We enter the bar sometime around ten pm, which I know thanks to the clocks we've seen all over the city. I wonder who's responsible for the moon here, because I don't see it anywhere as the sun sets.

The bar itself is decorated in a very.. bright and colorful scheme. Reminds me of one of the all-night diners that would play Shimmy Hoofit frequently.
Tropical! That's the word. It's tropical, with the caveat that whoever decorated this place actually had lived on a tropical island before. There's just something in me that can tell.

There's a big lady at the bar who eyes me and Trixie up. She's got deep black hair, and violet in her eyes. Behind her, there's an absolute powerhouse of a human stallion, wearing a cowmare's hat and a red neckerchief. He's pure lean muscle, and also eyeing us suspiciously, his ruby red eyes almost piercing my soul.
No other human has had violet or red in their eyes. Weird.

"Can I help you girls?" The big lady asks.
"We're here for the.. therian meeting..?"

She goes from suspicious to motherly delight in a nanosecond. "Oh!! You saw my flyer! Oh, lovely, lovely - you're a bit early, but go on and take a seat, make yourself comfortable. I'll get you two something to drink, on the house."
The big muscular human stallion purses his lips, wiping down a glass. "Hermana, no creo que sean como nosotros."
"Nonsense, hon! Anyone can be like us, even if they don't have the, y'know, the thing."
Dammit, I'm only getting half the conversation here. I don't speak Caballeran, or whatever the human equivalent is. She turns back to us and says, "Just take a seat anywhere you like, girls, I'll have something non alcoholic mixed up in a snap."

We turn and look around, and one spot catches my eye. There's a mare across the room, reading a book about pianos. She looks troubled, in more ways than one. I decide to approach her.

"Hey," I say, "You okay?"
She jolts, and yanks the book up to her chest, looking at me in shock.
"Ey, ey, easy, hon, I was just worried." I say. "You look like you just survived something harrowing."
"I mean.. had a run in with the cops, so, yeah.."
"Mind if me and my friend sit with you?"
She blinks for a second, and then shakes her head. "Sorry, got reminded of something - sure, go on ahead."
She takes a sip of her drink while Trixie and I sit down with her. Just then, the big lady drops a few drinks in front of me and Trixie. Smells like... mango and banana.
My mouth waters.

"What's your name?" I ask, taking a drink and immediately savoring the taste of whatever this stuff was.
"Chelsea. You?"
"Magne-." I let slip.

Chelsea shakes her head in confusion. "Magna..?"
"Yup?" I say. Definitely confident.
"Magna. One hell of a name, that." Chelsea chuckles and takes a sip of her drink. I can smell it from here, it's got all sorts of booze.
"And you?" She puts down the glass and points to Trixie.
"None other than the Great and Powerful Trrrrrixie!"

Chelsea blinks. I facehoof- facepalm, and sigh. "Trixie doesn't like to break keyfabe, even when she's not doing her magician gigs."
Trixie scoffs. "Trixie has an image to maintain, Magna."
I snort and take a sip of my damn good drink. Chelsea looks.. lost.

"Great and.. Powerful.. Trixie.." She furrows a brow, then suddenly flinches, hard. "OW!"
"You okay?" I ask, almost making the mistake of putting my hoof on her withers. She waves me off.
"Fine, fine, don't worry. I have amnesia induced migraines."

Trixie and I exchange a glance.
"Amnesia..?" I ask gingerly.
"Yeah, I.. ugh, I dunno. Felicia, the bartender," she jerks her stubbier claw in the direction of the big lady, "found me two years ago covered in burns in the middle of an alleyway. I don't have any memories of who I was, no ID, and I feel intense pain anytime I try to remember. Been like this for a while. Only clue that I have to my identity is, well... I get an urge to play piano. Almost like it's my destiny or something. But I can't play shit for fuck."

"Damn. I can't imagine what that must be like." I mutter, genuinely at a loss.
"It sucks, and that's pretty much all there is to say on the matter." She shrugs. "Where you two from? Don't sound like Californians to me."
"New York." I answer swiftly.
"Where in New York? Like the city."

Ah, shit. I'm at a loss there, it has to be something specific, it couldn't just be -
"Manehattan." Trixie answers.
"Damn, Manhattan? That's where all the bougie people are right? You must hate em."

I have to put in effort to not gawk at the fact that there is a borough in New York called Manhattan, which just so happens to sound like Manehattan. Another mystery for somepony with a higher power creep. Not my problem.

"Yes, quite. Trixie comes from old money, but her family has since disowned her for reasons she'd rather not get into."
"Ah, yeah, fair." Chelsea nods.
"So, what caused the cops to hitch up your tail?" I ask. She huffs a long sigh.

"How do you feel about cops?" Chelsea asks me.
"Ugh. Nothing positive, that's for sure." I roll my eyes, and the big lady shouts from the bar, "Woo! ACAB, baby!"
The rest of the patrons at this bar raise their glasses in a cheer, and Chelsea relaxes.
"Cool, cool. You won't snitch, right? You won't tell anybody?"
"I don't think I could snitch even if I wanted to." I truthfully reply.
"Haha! Okay, cool, I'll take that statement at face value! I uh.." She takes another swig of her drink to sooth her nerves. "...I saw the body of a unicorn, dude."

Trixie spits her drink. Chelsea and I look over to her, and she wipes off her face with her cape, then grabs a napkin to wipe off the juice from the table.
"What's your problem..?" Chelsea says.
"Trixie is..!"

I give Trixie a slight shake of the head.
"Afraid! Of unicorns!" She plays up the fear aspect.

It takes every muscle in my body to not laugh.
"You.. you're scared of unicorns?" Chelsea asks, bemused.
"Yes!" She's really going down this route. "They are always depicted as powerful creatures! Capable of magic and spells beyond human capability! If unicorns are real.. can you imagine what that spells for us?"
"Not.. really?"
"They could pierce the veil of reality and meddle with human affairs without anyp-" She coughs, clears her throat, thumps her chest. "Anybody knowing! The whole world could be controlled by them, unbeknownst to us all!"
Chelsea gives Trixie a blank stare. I'm going to bust my gut at any second if we don't steer the conversation elsewhere.
"So it's like... an off-brand version of the lizard people thing, but less racist?" Chelsea suggests.
"Lizard people? What lizard people?" Trixie genuinely asks. "Do you mean dragons?"

I see something red in my peripheral vision, and notice that the big stallion jerked his head towards Trixie, before shaking it and getting back to work.

"Okay, you're fucking with me, there's no way you genuinely believe that unicorns control the world, while not having heard of the lizard people thing."

My face is in my hooves. I am going to lose it.
The worst part is that this is exactly how things went down back at the orphanage, when it was just me, Paprika, and Trixie, all hanging out together.

Wait. No.

It can't have been that easy.
"H-hey, uh, Chelsea," I start to ask. "You ever have.. visions.. of.. like a past life. Therian wise?" I hesitantly ask.
That makes Chelsea stop whatever she was gonna say, and she looks at me. "Actually.. now that you mention it.. yeah."

No bucking way.
"I've been having this reoccuring dream where, it's like, I'm at a ramen shop, drunk off my tits, and these two animal girls are doting on me. They take me to their home, say they're gonna wait till I sober up in the morning, and.."

It takes every fiber of my entire being not to explode then and there. That's too damn specific not to be anypony else. I'm talking to fucking Paprika, and she doesn't even know it. Tears well up in my eyes. What happened to her? Why does she not remember?
What can I do to make her remember...?

I look at the bag, the one that has her feathers in it. No, no, not yet, she barely knows me right now. I have to get her to trust me. I can't just whip these out now, and say, "Haha! You were my best friend in another life and I'm here to take you back home!"
Ugh, how slimy that feels to think. I feel gross.

"I've been in denial about it, to be honest. Felicia, she's.. convinced that I'm like her, that I was another creature before, but then.. something happened. She claims the same thing happened to her too, and, I never believed her, until. Today. Seeing a goddamn unicorn cadaver. I'm beginning to wonder.. if there's.."

She trails off.

"No.. that would be too easy."
I swallow. "What would be too easy."
"There was this thing about.. finding a new source of power that could solve so many energy crisis problems. The director guy, on the news, he said, 'it burns clean and leaves little to no nuclear waste'... And it was about the explosion that happened at the airport which.. was caused by a..."

Oh, sweet Celestia.
"Do you think.. They're harvesting unicorns for electricity here..?" I asked, shivering.
"Think about it, Mags!" She's already got her nickname for me down pat, oh my stars. "Magic is the one energy source completely undiscovered by humanity! If they managed to figure out how to find a place where unicorns are real? Well- augh, no this is just. Wayside style lizard people. Nevermind."

Trixie and I exchange glances. We shake our heads - best not to tell her yet. First and foremost, we need to stick by her side until she can trust us.

Smear Frame

"What can you say about Paprika Blues?" I gave the crowd my rhetoric and expected no rebuttal. It was a funeral procession, after all, kinda rude to interrupt the mare at the podium. The few awkward participants in this sad little corpse-party-sans-corpse awkwardly coughed and somberly looked on.

"You could say she was weird. A bit touched in the head. Loud, and overtly-critical. Eccentric to a fault."

The crowd furrows their brows at me. They're hooked, moving onto the true statement.

"But you'd be missing the forest for the trees. You could inspect Paprika in all her strange little details, and only when you looked at her head-on would you realize she was like the music she loved. Chaotically harmonic. Passionate. Loud. Full of crescendos and decrescendos, and wild splashes of color. If Pinkie Pie had met her, they'd have been best friends, and this funeral would be way more lively."

One stiffled laugh breaks out. I'll take it.
"But the truth of the matter is, she was my best friend. My sister, my partner in crime, and so much more. And every day, I had the.. absolutely wonderful opportunity to witness her put color and life into the corners, nooks, and holes-in-the-walls of this city with her joy of life. And I think I can speak for everypony here when I say that Manehattan lost one of her brightest shining lights this week."

It takes every muscle in my body to not cry. Inhale, exhale, this speech is over soon, I think to myself. I make the mistake of looking up to the perfect, clear sky. It wasn't raining at all today, and it's not what Paprika would have wanted.
She would've wanted it pouring right now.

She loved the rain. Every chance she could get, she'd hang around on the edge of rainstorms and watch it all fall onto the city. She'd dance in the puddles and reach her apartment soaked. She always talked about the rain being a great inspiration for her art. The idea of raindrops cascading onto ivory piano keys and playing a perfect symphony in the chaos never left her mind.

"I.. will miss. Paprika.. Every day. And if I had the chance, I'd fight hoof and tooth to get her back.".
Thick swallow down a tight burning throat. "But I can't. None of us can. That's the fact of life, and Paprika wouldn't want any of us to sit here and stagnate in mourning. She'd want us to see her as a whole life, how much vivation she had, and to smile at how much color she painted onto the streets of this city. And I hope ..!"

Almost there, Maggie. Steady breaths.

"I hope wherever she is, she's resting well and enjoying the arts they have to offer. May she rest in peace."

There's a solemn bowing of heads and polite applause as I clamber off the podium. Some heads look up at me as I move away from the procession, but what else is there? The cops didn't even find her body. There was nothing in that stupid casket to say goodbye to. So I left the scene.

This suit had gotten too damn tight, but it's a rental. I fade through the alleys of this city to the boutique where I got the thing, The mare running the Saddle Row shop asks if anything was wrong with the getup, and I just say, "It was for a funeral. It did its job perfectly."
I pay extra in the tip and make myself scarce before she can offer her condolences. That's the last thing I need right now.

The second I make it back to my apartment, I'm in another argument with Sugar Dust. I don't even have the heart to put any effort into it, and when she says she wants to break up, I say, "Sure! Buck it! I'm moving out, update the lease yourself!"
I pack one saddlebag full of the most important things and wander the streets. I hadn't really digested the fact that I had just made myself homeless, but it didn't matter. Sugar made it clear that she wasn't gonna be there for me, so why bother.

I can wander this city for hours. It's a therapeutic thing for me. I end up at a longue that Paprika frequented to play her improvised jazz piano sessions. Sometimes she played with other musicians, sometimes she didn't.

When we all graduated from Manehattan U, Paprika attempted to climb the ladder and book exhibits or performances with higher crust establishments. She got the buck every single time. Her radical attitudes made her less than ideal material for what was considered "proper art", according to the snobs.

I didn't think it would douse her spirits like that..

I leave the bar. Try not to think of her. Move on, dammit.
Everything reminds me of her. I pass by the orphanage we grew up in together, alongside Trixie and the rest of the class. I wonder what they're up to. I wonder if they know she's dead.

As if right on cue, Miss Stable Upbringing emerges from the entrance and canters to me to give me a hug. She offers some condolences, as is custom, but I don't have room to store them anywhere. I politely drop them on the ground when she isn't looking, but I accept the hug. You can never have enough hugs.

I pass by the ramen shop, a little hole in the wall place where some Kirin have made a quiet living. It was the last place Paprika was seen publicly, before we took her back to Sugar and I's apartment. She was drunk, and we didn't want her to risk going back home in a thunderstorm.
Not enough precautions, I guess. She was gone in the morning and never found.

I find the back alley where Paprika tried to fly for the first time, and fell into a dumpster, ticking off some geezer. I wonder if flight's all she cracked it up to be. For all I know, it's what killed her.

I find a clump of feathers in the alley, blue, just like Paprika's.

Wait.

Those ARE Paprika's. They have the little subtle flecks of lavender at the tips. I'd recognize those things anywhere.

I hurry to them and stop when I realize something is.. wrong.
They're disjointed, twitchy, something horrific I can't even properly describe. Constantly jittering out of place, stretching and displacing in the same spot. Like the very reality the feathers were made of were breaking down.

I decide to not grab them with my teeth. I scoop them up in a paper bag and wonder what my next options could be.

"I'm sorry, but I refuse to study the thaumaturgical makeup of these feathers."
"Why not."
"They look.. wrong. Like chaos magic, but worse."

I'm silent.
"Please leave, Miss North."

None of the professors wanted anything to do with what looked to be potentially fatal magic. They shooed me away and called security for good measure.
Don't need to tell me twice.

Chaos magic, huh?

It's difficult, invoking a chaos god. It's even more difficult to ask a favor from such a guy.
"You have your fun yet, Discord?"
"Pffhahahahaa! No!"

Currently, he had enchanted my compass cutie mark so that the dagger-shaped needle actually worked. He also enchanted the rest of me to rotate in alignment with the needle, causing me to flip around in place as he juggled extremely powerful magnets.
"Truly, you live up to your name!" He kept cackling.
"Y'know, you and P'rika would've gotten along great."
"Oh? Who's this P'rika?" He stops juggling, thank Celestia. I'm stuck at a seventy-two degree angle, but I'll live.

"Don't think you would've heard of her. Paprika Blues. Musician and comics artist from Manehattan. She loved freeform jazz."
"A comedian with good taste? Truly she is already chaotic. Where can I find this mare?"
"You can't. She went missing. Police called the search off last week and declared her dead."
I open up the paper bag.
"This is all that's left of her. Wouldja happen to know what's making them do.. that?"

I show him the feathers. He hums, he hems, he haws. And then he has the balls to say this to me.
"While that is a lovely inspirational piece, I'm afraid I can't say that's my own work."
He picks one up with some comically long tweezers. Examines them.
"Honestly quite painful looking. Not much fun in pain, unfortunately, unless you're the masochist type. I would've suggested the Storm King, if he weren't dead."

He inspected the feathers closer with some novelty sized microscope.
"From what I can tell, this is almost- no, it *is* otherworldly magic. I can at least give you the address for which reality it came from - but I can't send you there. Not in one piece, anyhow."

He gave me a slip of paper that read, "#|¢[ÆÑ €@4Ī±". No idea what it meant. Or how to pronounce it.

"My advice? Find somepony with experience in punching holes through realities. That's not my bag, but it's definitely someone's."
And then he was gone. I was back on the streets of my city. I turned around, and the alleyway I met him in never existed.
If not him, then who?

I wander once more, and see somepony performing at the annual Midsummer Theater Revival.

Modal Interchange

"I had that dream again."
Felicia looks to me with a curious expression. I took another sip of my coffee.
"Which dream?" she asks in that soft matronly tone.
"The one where I'm drunk and some animal girls dote on me."
"Animals as in like, furries?" She smirks.
"No, more like.. I guess early Disney? Or Warrior Cats? Like they're on all fours. And they're talking and taking me to their home. But I can't hear what they're saying on account of being schwasty."
She leans forward while dipping her banana bread in her coffee. "Y'know what species they were?"

I squint. "Mmmmmno. Felicia, no, this is not a therian thing. I'm not a fucking animal."
She's grinning already.
"You suuuuure?"
"Just because you think you're a dragon from another world under all that skin, doesn't mean I'm anything underneath mine."

I dig into my can of peaches. Stab em with a fork over and over. Slippery bastards.
"It's a reoccurring dream, dear. It's gotta mean something." Felicia wiggles her hips eagerly. "There's always more to the world than anyone can know. Maybe we could get-"
"I'm not gonna take any shrooms. Or LSD. Or crack, or weed, or whatever."
She scoffs. "I was gonna say get a magical ritual going to see if I can find anything; it's not my fault you're immediately thinking about tripping."

I snort. "Magic is just what people think happens, when really they're just being fooled in one way or another."
"Not a bad interpretation, Chelsea. Magic can influence a reality, but that could just be one person's reality. Affecting realities on a mass scale? That's the tough stuff."
"What, so, every copy of life is personalized?"
"Pretty much! Everyone has magic, dipshit, it came free with your being alive." She jokes.

I chuckle. "No I don't, and I have the oldest life known to man." Stab another peach.
"Explains your cranky attitude." She snarks. The grandfather clock she stole from the thrift store ticks away, a few minutes behind the time. She looks at it, then me.
"What time do you work today?"
"I'm kinda unemployed, Felicia. Boss is still being audited by the health department, so the restaurant is still closed."
She giggles. "I told that bint that frogs would not make for adequate pest control."
I shake my head. "Still can't believe she was serious about that. 'All natural pesticide!' Ridiculous."
"So whatcha gonna do then?"

I sigh. "I guess.. try my hand at piano again? Maybe I'll break the curse this time."
"You don't believe in magic, but you think you're cursed?"
"I didn't say I don't. I just think it's all smoke and mirrors affecting the brain. Placebo and sugar pills. Gets all the hormones and chemicals in a line and puts a new idea in there. It's why shamans in the old days did shrooms."
"So your brain is affected by magic to think you're permanently bad at piano?"
"Yeah."

I look at the piano I managed to snag from an entirely different thrift shop. It had gathered dust for a while. A simple little spinet, which somehow never needing a tuning, sat there waiting for its true master to take on the world.
That master was absolutely not me. I don't know why I was so determined to conquer the damn thing, but it called out to me like a siren. I don't know what could've caused such a fixation. Really. I have total amnesia. My legal name probably isn't Chelsea at all. It's just what Felicia calls me.
Every time I try to remember who I was, it comes out as a blur and I get a headache.

So I don't. My name is Chelsea, and I'm practically the pet of some insane MILF who's convinced she's a dragon.
She's at least not totally insane. I have- HAD, a job. I get out of the house whenever I like. I get to have my own room and privacy. I'm not at her beck and call, she doesn't abuse me, and I'm at least not completely mentally stunted or regressed by whatever happened to me. We've gotten close enough to have some lezzing out every now and then.
Another sip of coffee to go with the bittersweet emotions.

My hands ache and I get that little feeling underneath my shoulder blades. I reach a hand back there and try to massage the spot, but it's just beyond my reach.
"Your back hurting again?"
"It's not even my back it's like.. I dunno, ghost arm. Like I'm supposed to have an extra arm there. But since it's not..-"

Felicia's already going haywire. "EEE! I knew it! You're dealing with phantom limb sensations, just like meeeee~!"
"I'm not-"
Aaand she's in the other room, digging something out from the pile of cosplay shit she has.
If she's a dragon, she's got the hoarder behavior down. At least she keeps the place clean.
"Here! Try these on!!" She starts wrapping a harness of sorts around my torso.
"I'm not in the mood for kink stuff."
"Don't worry, this is gender stuff. Completely different."
"Uh-huh. Right."
I submit to her whims. It's not like I had anything better to do today.
Her pear shaped ass bulldozes me over to the mirror, where I stand with some fake feathered wings.

Huh. The pain stops.
They're not some cheap shitty ones that would be found at a generic costume store. These ones are like, anatomically correct and proportioned to my body size.

"They're poseable too. Tug on the wires in your harness."

I tug open a wing and watch it unfurl. I stare myself down in the mirror.

"No, that doesn't make sense."
"Oh, c'mon, Chelsea! You can-"
"No, no, I'm talking logistically. If we wanted to fly with wings, we couldn't do it vertically. You'd get no lift because the feathers don't catch any wind. We'd have to- hang on."

I grunt and strain my way down into all fours and flare the wing again.
"Yeah, see? This makes more sense. The feathers are better aligned this way. Especially if you consider the fact that wings are just glorified hands all stretched out and birds are basically just doing the like. Autism hands thing, when they're folded up."

I look up at Felicia and realize I probably seem like a total dolt. She's leaned up against a wall, arms folded, grinning with a matronly pride.
"Don't they feel familiar?"

I get back up on my hind legs and take another look at the wings.
"Eh.. they're cool, I guess. But not familiar."
"So then how did you know how the wings would work?"
"...Pure logic? Every bird I can think of that can fly does it horizontally. Or at least at a more horizontal angle."
I start taking off the wings, and the second I do, that dull quiet pain comes back. I make a face at the mirror, and take them off all the way.
"Besides, it's physically impossible for humans to fly without like, a plane." I continue.
"If we could, would you want to?"
"Man, I don't fuckin know."

She frowns. I hate it when she does that. I'm getting trying to get a good grade in adoptive-roommate. Something normal to want and possible to achieve. I've known her for like, two years now, and she's never given up on the Idea that she's a dragon from another world.

"Where did you find me again?" I ask.
"An alleyway nearby where I work. Parking sucks here, so I found a spot the cops don't check and park there."
"And I was covered in burn marks." I verify.
"You were pretty much smoking, yeah."

I try to look at the scars along my back. They look like nerve endings, I guess. Tons of tiny little burns. I still don't know what got me.
"And you didn't take me to the hospital because.."
"Because you don't have insurance."
"Rrrright. Insuuuranncee."

I try to remember what insurance is.
"Isn't that for when your house burns down..?"
"No, I mean health insurance, dear. You don't have anything that identifies you. No SSN, no date of birth, no ID, not even a library card."

Library card, huh?
"Can I get a library card?"
"You don't have official documentation, which they might need."
"UGH."
"Yeah, it sucked for me too. You can at least read the books there for free."
"Yeah.. I think I'm gonna take a walk. Maybe try the library out anyways."
"Oh! If you are, could you hang this on the public corkboard?"

She hands me a flyer, which reads,

Ever feel like you're not human? Like you were meant to be a different creature, one that chirps, or roars, or howls, or whinnies?
You may just be therian! And you're not alone! Come to Felicia's Dive Bar on 107 Sturges Avenue after closing to meet for a weekly support group! We meet on Tuesdays.

"Eh, sure." I fold the paper up and stuff it in my pocket.

I grab my coat, some coins for the bus, and make for the door, stopping only to give Felicia a hug. You can never give enough hugs.
"See you after the bar closes?"
"You know it, honey!"
She gives me a kiss on the forehead.

And then I head on out into the big bad city.

Timing Chart

It's Trixie Lulamoon. I heard a few rumors about her. One about buying a cursed artifact and using it to enslave a town. Another about her contributions to saving the Princesses and the Elements of Harmony from the Changelings.
Did I believe the rumors? Not really. But if they were true, then by all rights, she was probably as great and powerful as she claimed to be.

If nothing else, her performance has ponies enraptured. Enough that some prick of a mare attempts to discreetly steal from the tips jar. I'm about to get in the way, when,
"For my next trick, Trixie will need an audience member.. hmm.. YOU!"

She points to the thief, who looks around, and mouths, "me?" while pointing to herself.
"Yes, you! Come, and allow me your ear!"
The mare, not wanting to cause a scene, climbs up to the stage. She eyes up Trixie cautiously, then turns to the crowd.
"A bit for your thoughts?" Trixie asks.
"Well, I, I don't like being up here-" She's quickly looking back and forth, shaking her head, and a bit falls from her ear.

Ohhhh.. I get it. Funny.
"It seems you have a lot weighing on your mind. Allow Trixie to help you.."
Trixie shakes the mare's head in her magic and every single bit the mare tried to get away with falls out of her head.
The mare looks to the money, to Trixie, and then starts scooting to exit, stage right.

"Let this be a lesson to never try and pull a fast one on the Grrreat and Powerful Trixie."
She gathers up her bits with her magic, tosses them back into the tip jar, and goes on with the show. The thief makes herself scarce.
I toss a few of my own bits in the jar. That was primo entertainment.

By the time the show's over, I've made my choice. I trot up to the mare packing up her wagon.
"Yo, Trix."
Trixie Lulamoon (Great and Powerful, Esq.) turns to look up at me with confusion pretty much written across her face.
"Ah.. does Trixie know you?"
"Yeah? I'm Magnetic North."
"The name rings no bells, Miss North."
"We grew up in Miss Stable Upbringing's orphanage together, remember? You hated her. Called her The Authority."
She sniffs and turns up her head.
"Trixie refuses to acknowledge your baseless accusations of Trixie's Great and Powerful backstory."

I sneer.
"Hello and welcome to Stable Upbringing's Orphanage for Wayward Manehattan Foals, thank you for visiting and we hope you find a colt or filly you'd be willing to call your own."

Trixie makes a face and cringes. "Okay, okay, stop it, you don't have to remind me of that!" She stomps and huffs. "Trixie barely remembers anypony from that blasted building. Who are you in specific?"
"I hung out with Paprika Blues. Deep blue coat, purple mane, lavender spots, also like you in the.. backroom department?" I try to discreetly wiggle my flanks and give her a deadpan.
"Ah. Yes." She nods. "Trixie remembers you now, there was news of Paprika's death. You.. hm. Actually, you were nice to me."

She furrows a brow.
"Trixie supposes you are not here to cash in a favor for such a thing, are you?"
"Depends. Can you punch a hole into another reality?"
"Mmmmaybe. Starlight always warned Trixie not to perform such a dangerous trick.. and yet, Trixie can't help but be curious what would spur you on to ask."
"You wanna talk about it over coffee at The Floor Is Java?"
"Ugh, yes, PLEASE! Trixie has been dying for some real Manehattanite coffee."

"..And that's why I think there's more to Paprika's death than meets the eye."

Trixie inspects the feathers cautiously before dramatically looking off into the distance. The stallion that ends up in her line of sight awkwardly waves and continues to eat his sandwich.
"So.. the rumours are true.."
"What rumors. And don't say it like that."
"The true crime circles of Equestrian tabloids have speculated that Paprika Blues was actually.. get this.. MURDERED."
She dramatically slams her hooves on the table and leans in close. Too close. I push her back on account of being able to smell her coffee breath.
"I'm a little disturbed by the fact that my grief has been made into a spectacle, but, continue."

She magically produces a magazine titled "LAST TABLOID ON THE LEFT", whereupon the cover showed me, Sugar, and P'rika in a group photo polaroid. Paprika's face is crossed out with a big red ❌.

"Scandal in the making!" It screams. "Paprika Blues and Magnetic North - secret lovers? Jealousy driven murder? Details on page 16!"
"Hogwash." I growl at it. "Total roadapples. I was dating Sugar Dust. Paprika was our friend - if anything, we both were gonna make a move on her, together, after she sobered up in the morning. Make a herd."

I'm not even sure how they got that photo. Maybe Sugar gave it to them before the funeral. I toss the bundle of lies back to Trixie. "But I can agree that I don't think Paprika's death was normal. The last time I saw her was drunk asleep on my couch futon. Something happened between then and the morning. I talked to Discord-"
Trixie snorts. "How did you accomplish THAT?"

"With a patience that has been honed after years of working as a tour guide for rural ponies, whose children do not know what a crosstrot is. Anyways. Discord said it was magic from another world.. and gave me this." I show her the paper. "Recommended I find a pony that can 'punch holes in reality'. It sounded up his alley, literally, but I guess helping a grieving mare isn't super chaotic."

She inspects the paper. "Trixie can certainly assure you this isn't ordinary magic. Hanging around two extremely powerful wizards has allowed Trixie to accumulate some.. abilities. But this seems above Trixie's paygrade. She already dealt with the Changelings, which was bad enough."

She eyes me up, "And, no offense, you don't look like you've got much on you."

I take a slow, calculated sip of my coffee. One cream, no sugar. I shrug and put the mug down. "Well, I just need a unicorn that can work the spell. If you're scared, you don't need to come along."
"WHAT?!" Trixie shouts.
Gottem. I keep my poker face up while she breaks into a tirade.
"The Great and Powerful Trrrrixie does not fear anything! She has faced down the Dark Changelings, Discord, and last minute holiday shoppers! Trixie will not back down at the sight of some twitchy misplaced feathers!"

She gets the feathers in the paper bag, downs the rest of her coffee (and mine) in two gulps, and leads the charge towards..?

A long and arduous wagon ride to Canterlot's prestigious library.
"Now, Trixie knows not of the exact spell that is your quarry, Miss North, but she knows where you are most likely to obtain the first loose thread on your little mystery."

I follow her in. The librarian at the desk gives her a cautionary glance as we pass to a quiet looking corner. Trixie pulls on a pair of extremely dull looking books, opening up a secret passageway into the "restricted section", if the sign was anything to go by.

"How in the name of Luna do you know about this?"
"Simple, Miss North - a wizard, a scholar, collects truths to study the world by. A magician, such as yours truly, collects secrets, to mystify the world with."
"And what about a normal old city-slicker like me?"
"Youuuu fiiiiind.. Hmm. Trixie will have to get back to you on that."

After making sure we're not being tailed, we move in and find the oldest books I've ever seen. For the first time in a week, a little smile cracks my face.
Time to explore an old library, baby.

Libraries are proportionately tiny cities for books. That is what I learn as I wander the ancient dusty shelves. In libraries, books have transit, healthcare, leadership, and other amenities. They're organized by district and alphabetized, similar to postal addresses.
To that end, it's easy to navigate an ancient library when you shift perspective and view it as an ancient city.
And from there, you can see when something doesn't belong in a city.

Like the time that a rich company attempted to buy up all the property in my block and turn it into a series of bougie highrise condos. They failed, on account of some very choice words being graffitied on the walls by P'rika and I. Nopony wanted to invest in a building that read "HOT GELDING COCK ON THIS BLOCK" in bold red text on the walls.
I snicker when I recall that particular memory.

And my city-slicker senses pick up on one in particular book that didn't really belong.

"MANA-HEMO PROGRAM TRAINING MANUAL: SEED GENERATION, FILTERING, AND ACCESS". It declares. All capitals. No author. No flair or decorations to make it seem like an enticing read - in fact, it's the dullest gray I've ever seen. Scientifically engineered to hide. It uses a strange font that seems wrong. It has a lively, almost friendly shape to it, but is just slightly off-putting, enough to look Wrong, and therefore get my attention.¹

I pull it off the shelf and note that there's no dust to blow off of it.
In fact, it looks too damn pristine for something in a chunk of library with more dust than oxygen.
I open the book and I'm met with a language that almost looks like Common Harmonic, but not quite. A lot of jargon about "reality scripts" and "server transfer rates".

"SEED SELECTION", I can vaguely translate, but what's a seed in this context? It doesn't mean a plant, does it?
They keep talking about things like "building packages" and "compiling data". There's one part that reads, "TO ACCESS ONE PARTICULAR SEED, ENTER THE 10 DIGIT SYMBOL CODE INTO RELEVANT SPELL MATRIX RECEPTACLE."

"WARNING: ACCESS WITHOUT PRIOR AUTHORIZATION WILL RESULT IN GROUNDSKEEPER SUMMONS."

I flip through the pages looking for any information on a groundskeeper. No such luck. The flash of the blade, but no cuts, yet. Would this be worth the trouble?

Eh. Buck it, we ride.
I bring the book back over to Trixie, who's nose deep in a book reading about some guy. I think it's a guy, anyways. It's hard to really tell the sexual dimorphism of humans.

Wait, yeah, hang on, that's a human on the cover. They haven't been around since the Dream Valley days. Ancient history, and I mean ANCIENT. Like "before Princess Times" levels of ancient.

"Harry.. Anderson: .. Wise Guy by.. Mike Caverny? What kinda names are those?"
"Trixie hasn't the slightest clue. And yet, she is intrigued by this Harry's proficiency with sleight of hoof. There's so many earth-pony styles of magic and illusion in this book! Trixie thinks she shall keep this for light reading."
"Huh. Alright, cool. You do you. Anyways, I think I found the spellbook."

She leafs through the tome and makes a face.
"This is more boring than Sparkle's lectures."
"You don't gotta read it all. Just the seed lookup part."
"Ooh, excellent! It comes with its own spell matrix, makes this much easier."

She closes her eyes and lights up her horn, before undoing both.
"Hm. Trixie would like to make a contingency plan."
She looks for a piece of paper and summons a quill and some ink from her saddlebags.
"Dearest Starlight, The Great and Powerful Trrrrixie would like to send an update on her tour. A foalhood.."
She looks up at me.

".. Acquaintance.."
I'll take it.
"..named Magnetic North has requested my great and powerful assistance in rescuing her friend from a terrible fate. Trixie would like to inform you that if you do not hear from me in a week, come to the Canterlot library's restricted section and use the extremely dull book about seeds alongside this code, '#|¢[ÆÑ €@4Ī±' to find the reality that Miss North and I have ventured into. Greatly and Powerfully Yours, Trixie."

She tosses the letter into the air, swooshes over it with her cape, and then it's gone.
"There! The postmare Ditzy Doo shall be finding this letter and delivering it post-haste."
"How'd you do that?"

Aw fuck. Trixie looks at me smugly.
"A magician never reveals her secrets, Miss North."

She casts the spell and punches the hole, and lightning cracks the quiet air. There's a portal, wobbly and unstable, and I see the other side. An alleyway, much like one from Manehattan, sits quietly. The sound of.. some kinda machine rumbles in the distance alongside the general din of a city.

I crack my neck a bit, and steady my breath. "Alright. I'm on my way, P'rika. Let's do this."

Author's Note

¹Comic sans.

Diminished Chord

The plastic-rubber saddle jostles me as I watch the cars in the opposite lane roll on by.
Seeing the business of people making their way through the thoroughfares of this city fills me with a sense of nostalgia. Not sure why, or what for.
Some kid at the front of the bus is playing with one of the windows, opening it by a crack and sticking her sucker outside. She freaks out when, understandably, she drops it, and it falls onto the road.

I try not to laugh at the child's self-inflicted misfortune and pop my earbuds in to block out the screaming. I pull out my shitty little thirty dollar MP3 player. Nothing like a bit of The Seatbelts to help drown out a screaming foal. I consider what else I could do today. The City was my oyster at this point.

I had already tacked up that flyer for Felicia's therian support group at the Burbank library. Checked out a few books on piano practice techniques. Turns out the city library is a lot more lenient than I thought. They just needed a name and address. It was then I realized that I didn't know my own last name, what with Felicia handling most everything for me. So, after a quick glance at the librarian's water bottle, I picked the name "Chelsea Bay".
Probably fine. Either way, it's free book, as long as I turn 'em in on time. They even gave me a free bookbag.

My thoughts return to the now, and I realize we're getting near the stop that's close to my old employer.
I clamber off the bus at the stop and walk my way to the restaurant.
Nnnope. Shady Sadie's Chick'n and Gravy is still closed. I passively observe the "condemned - stay out" sign. I can hear the frogs she let loose inside still croaking.

They might be spawning faster than they can be caught. I move on, continuing to walk down the street. I eventually end up at an electronics store, the kind that have TVs in the aisles playing the news.
In fact, there was the news, right there.

"..members of the energy board have reported a surge of radioactivity in Burbank, near Bob Hope Airport. Citizens are advised to stay away from the area, and are encouraged to redirect any flight plans. Airlines are offering refunds or compensated tickets for all customers inconvenienced by this development. The Director of the Los Angeles Energy Department had this to say:"

It cuts to some guy. He's blabbering on about something vaguely related to the story - until he says something weird.
"The reason this happened is because there was an incident in transferring a sample of a potential new source of nuclear energy - one that burns clean and leaves little to no radioactive waste. I am not at liberty, at this time, to specify the materials properties, as they are classified, but I have been given authorization to disclose the previous statement to the public. I believe that with this new material, Los Angeles' citizens - and potentially many other customers across the nation - will pay little to nothing for air conditioning, helping to offset HVAC costs that have been brought on by the yearly wildfires. We hope the people of LA understand, and support our future endeavors. Thank you."

Weird. How does -
No, that doesn't make sense. How does a nuclear material not produce some form of nuclear waste?
I look around the cluttered interface design of the news - all the banners and ticker tapes get in the way of what I'm looking for.
The time. I don't carry a watch on me - I should. I sure as Tartarus can't afford a phone, but I can probably snag a cheap ass watch from a flea market or thrift store. My MP3 player is one that doesn't have any display, so that's no good.

It's about 4:30. If I snag another bus, I can head up Glenoaks and stop near Woodbury, and it's a quick jog to the airport from there. There might be cops, but they typically ignore the alleyways of the warehouses in favor of watching for speedsters along the main roads.
Yeah. Yeah I gotta see this. I'm gonna go look.

The bus was on time, for once. I trot down Cohasset until I reach San Fernando Boulevard. I hop through the fencing construction - apparently the city is trying to prevent people from walking on the train tracks - wander through all the pre-fabbed commerce buildings, and end up at the fencing that surrounds the airport.

Holy sun and sea. There's a big ass crater in the runway. Big enough to see from at least a mile away, maybe more, but I don't even have to entertain the thought of breaking in. Even if I wanted to, the fence was too tall for me to jump without being seen. Sometimes I wish I could just fly. Sheesh, some days it even feels like I forgot how to do it.

Weird thoughts lately. Anyways, I see a construction crew filling in the hole. They're all wearing radioactive protective gear under their construction uniforms, and it's way too hot to be in those things. I mentally give them my respects - I sure as Tartarus wouldn't be able to do it. Maybe they get water breaks.

I think I've seen what I wanted to see. Whatever they're cooking up, it's.. probably good? All energy sources are kinda volatile right? I turn to leave, look over my shoulder, and see something I definitely should not have seen.

They lift something out of the hole. It's some kind of.. skeleton. Bones bleached pure white, as if whatever caused that explosion also caused the creature to lose all its flesh in one fell swoop - no time to even feel the pain. But that's not even the wildest part.
The wildest part was the horn on top of it's head. I stop, get low, and try to get a better look.

I squint. It almost looks like the horn on its head is glowing. It's a long skull, some kind of herbivore, given the flat teeth. That's a horse skull, right? Why would a horse.. have.... a horn.

"HEY!" Someone shouts from the construction site, towards me. "YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!"
Damn right, I'm not. I scramble to my feet, and run. It takes about thirty seconds before I hear sirens blaring in the distance. Faster response time than average, and I hurry back towards the streets. I jaywalk San Fernando, again, as a police car turns the corner about half a mile away.

If I just saw something deeply secret, I'm fucked six ways from Sunday. They're gonna bring out the helicopters, real soon. I turn back down Cohasset, and dart between the buildings. There's a small part of me that delights in having a good reason to run fast - and my heart is beating steady despite the panic. I see a parkway that has a nice, thick tree, which honestly pretty rare in this city, and jump into the leaves. I hide, and see the cop car whoosh past. I wait.

Could be a few minutes, maybe only a few seconds, but I hear a chopper above me scanning the area. I look up, and hope the leaves are enough cover.
Anxiety begins to settle nicely into the couch of my stomach. Did they see my face? My clothes? They gotta have some form of descriptor.

I wish I could fly.

Why do I keep thinking that?! Focus, dammit!!

Okay. Think. Best way outta this general area would be to take the bike route near Buena Vista. They saw me when I was wearing my coat. I take it off.
It's more of a windbreaker, really. Just something to cover my skin from the sun.
I scratch the back of my neck. I shove the coat in the bookbag under my piano books. Man. This all started out as a trip to kill time until Felicia got off work.

Felicia. I gotta get to Felicia. She'd know what to do!
Right. I try to look as casual as possible. Look normal. Don't look like a scared prey animal. I am NOT a scared prey animal.
I take the small streets away from San Fernando Blvd. It's later in the day, so there's a lot of places with no people nearby. When I reach Buena Vista, I try to stay under the cover of the bridge. I reach the bike route and start trekking it.

It's a bit of a walk, but the bike route makes for a pretty good shortcut. I make it to another crosswalk under the freeway and make my way to North Hollywood. Her bar is some ways along the road, but I make it. Sturges. Made it to Sturges. Felicia's Dive Bar, Sturges.

I open the door, and there's a few guys chilling out. I feel myself settle down at the sight of the "We don't serve pigs here" sign, shaped like a highway sign with the numeral label 1312. It's a primo gay bar, and all the folks know it.

Felicia takes one look at me, and turns her head towards the other guy that helps her run the place. "Yggy, hon, I'm gonna take lunch. You think you can hold down the fort?"

Ignacia- Fuck, no, right- Ygnacia (I have no idea why he spells it like that), looks over to her, then me, and I shudder. He always intimidated me. He looks like. Well he has the stoic face of a Yakuza protagonist. I think they set one in Hawaii recently, right? They could totally set one in L.A., and he'd be either the protagonist, or a secretly powerful side character.

He shrugs. "Eh, sure, hermana. Just don't do anything that leaves a mess, ¿verdad?" His thick hispanic accent helps solidify that whole Yakuza thought. She snaps him some finger guns and a lecherous grin. She then grabs me, pulls me aside to the back room slash manager's office, and sits me down on the comfier chair.
"What happened, honey?"

I guess I looked worse for wear than I thought. I take a slow, shuddering breath. "I .. I was.." Another deep breath. "Did you see the news?"
"No, what happened?" She tilts her head.
"There was some like.. radioactive explosion at the airport in Burbank. I.. went to go look, and I got spotted, and the cops chased me. They sent a helicopter after me too."
"Did they see your face?"
"Not really."
"Your clothes?"
"Probably..?"
"How'd you get out?"
"I hid in a really dense tree."
She leans back and looks out the door.

"Pigs wouldn't chase you for nothing." She muses, and then leans forward again, close to me, gently cupping my cheek in one of her big hands. Her comforting touch is like water in the desert right now. "You can talk to me, honey. What did you see?"

I have to take a moment to process what I saw. I blink and shake my head and try to recontextualize and logic out the entire thing. But I saw what I saw. It couldn't have been anything else, what with the reaction the cops had. I look back up at her, directly into her eyes.
"I think I saw the body of a unicorn."