Running Out on the Edge

Chapters

Schoolwork
An Interesting Proposition
Gathering Weapons

Schoolwork

I growl at Mr Sanders as he drones on and on about Of Mice And Men, oblivious to Neil nodding off across the room from me, James doodling in his English book opposite me and, indeed, me growling at him. Only one person is paying attention to Sir's words, and I barely know the guy, less so his actual name. I think he’s Phil. I don’t know. I don’t care.

“Pack away your things, stand behind your chairs,” comes the usual signal for the end of the lesson. “Alex, can I see you for a second?”

I nod as Harry pushes past me, muttering to me as he passes. “Good luck.” I ignore him. I’d just regret it otherwise.

“Alex, I just need you to take these forms down to Student Reception. Give them to Mrs Hunt, please,” Mr Sanders begins. “And be careful not to mix them up. I spent so long organising them into the right order last night.”

“Right,” I agree, hefting the heavy stack of tree skin and black ink off the desk. It is not too heavy to carry, but heavy enough to warrant clutching it close to my chest with both arms.

The walk is long, and I hate every last minute of it. For a 16 year old, rather round boy with poor people skills, nobody cares. Well, they can hate me all they wanted. Trip me up, call me names, beat me up, it doesn’t matter in the long run. Because they will die one day, then I… My imagination is becoming disturbingly violent; I shouldn’t let it out of control. A small lapse in concentration could give someone an opportunity to give me a hell of a ribbing. Physically or verbally.

Forms delivered without incident, I turn and begin to head to my usual haunt, the stairs to the computer rooms. There was the only place I could not be bullied, as there was quite the obvious camera scanning the area. I pull open the doors, drop my bags next to the radiator and lift myself onto the narrow window ledge, balancing well despite my thick frame. The doors are on rising hinges, so I need not worry about closing them manually. I lie down on the ledge and stare out the window, allowing my imagination to wander, completely ignoring the people walking past just as they ignore me. The camera would pick them up otherwise.
In my imagination, I see a world of my own creation, original and yet not. Nothing is of my own thoughts, and yet they act in the ways my subconscious demanded. A Shoggoth squelches along, forming and tipping a hat to the golden form of Stephano as PewDiePie carries him towards Steve, who is busy crafting a new diamond hoe with his blocky hands, something that never ceases to amuse me. Diamond compression with bare hands? How come he can do that and not me?

I am jerked from my reverie by a sudden slam from the top of the stairs, then quick footsteps. I slide off the windowsill and lean against the wall casually as the footsteps reach my level. A teacher walks past without even realising I am there and walks straight through the doors, muttering darkly about some pay cuts the IT staff are apparently going through. I don’t know, nor do I care. I climb back up onto the windowsill, looking back out of the window and quietly thinking, childish imagination replaced by mathematical formulae. My imaginative mind and my literal mind are almost different people.

I become engrossed in my thoughts, maths and science filling my cranium, blocking out almost everything around me. I am careful to keep listening for any teachers who come along (lying on the window ledge is not permitted in school) which is why I am able to notice the quiet noise streaming from next to my spot. A quiet whirring, like that of a machine, and yet strangely organic. I glance over to see a strange, lavender coloured glowing ball floating in mid-air in the middle of the room. This mysterious occurrence confuses and unnerves me, and I am quick to get as far away from it as the tiny amount of space I am in allows. And yet, I cannot tear my eyes away from it. The mysterious object or energy or whatever it may be is beautiful in a way that I cannot describe, lest I allow my words to become nought but flowery poetry and oh God it’s growing bigger. I look around, hoping for a way out of this situation. The window behind me does not open and even then, I am not the most agile person. I am not strong enough to shatter the thick glass either. There are two ways out now. Up the stairs to the IT rooms, or out the doors to the hallway. Both are blocked by the ball of light, so I cannot choose either. I am trapped.

The ball stretches upwards, becoming flat and tall, not unlike an oval mirror. The surface seems to become semi-transparent, showing the other side of the wall clearly. As I watch, static flickers across the layer facing me, distorting the image into something it is not. I cannot see clearly through this portal, as I believe it to be, and therefore ignore my basic flight-or-fight responses to bend closer to the apparition, examining the contours and mystical abilities of the feature. Unfortunately, it is a bad idea to lean too far forward, especially if one is as curvy as I (I hesitate to use the word ‘fat’. While I admit that a fair amount of weight loss would be a good course of action for one such as me, I do not believe myself to be fat, exactly.). I overbalance and, having no way to stop myself from falling at such short notice and for such a short time, tip head-first into the portal and black out.

An Interesting Proposition

My return to consciousness is slow. I feel, rather than see, things moving around me, but I am unable to tell if I am moving or if they are. I see nothing, but it is hard to tell if the nothing is light or dark. I cannot distinguish colour, brightness or saturation. This is bad, very bad indeed. Deciding on what seems to be the sensible course of action, I attempt to focus my mind on my orientation. Whether or not I am lying down, if I decide my angle to the surface I am on I will be able to perceive the surface as existing, solid, and therefore from there have an existing framework upon which to build my perception of my surroundings. I feel a pressure to my side, my left. And yet, I feel something on my right as well. Both are light pressures, as if wrapped in a blanket. As I begin to focus more and more, I feel it all around me, cocooning me. Perhaps I am in a hospital bed. No, English hospital beds tend to have somewhat hard mattresses, I cannot be. Could it be my own bed? Doubtful, the school would send me to a hospital if I had blacked out and not come round within a few minutes. No, where I am is something that will have to wait.

I am no further forward in deciding my current position, but I am further forward in my own self-awareness. As I become aware that I am unaware of my orientation to the ground below, I realise that my body feels… off. I cannot yet move anything to test the theory, but I feel different. I can sense my centre of gravity is different, as though I would be crawling on all fours. And by that logic, I can take an educated guess that I am face down to the ground. As if reaffirming this, the pressure on my front grows more pronounced. I attempt to open my eyes, but my still shaken mind will not allow me movement aside from the slight shifting of pressure on my front that implies that I am breathing. I accept this and allow myself to regain my senses in my own time.

“Hello?” A voice. A recognisable word in an understandable voice. As if this is the catalyst I require, my other senses flood back to me. I open my eyes, the sudden light burning my retinas. Thank goodness, pain. Physical discomfort. I am not dead. I groan loudly and shift myself, then stop. Again, the feeling that my body is incorrect persists. My legs seem to be facing the wrong way, pointing forwards as if I am sitting with a footstool. My face feels as if it is pointing upwards, as if looking into the sky. Well, looking directly forwards if I am indeed lying on my front. I choose to look around, as best as I can, rather than decide my bodily positioning.

As my eyes adjust to the burning light, I notice something almost directly in front of me. It looks to be a person. The source of the voice? Perhaps. I attempt to speak, forcing a harsh croak from my throat with no words to guide it. This has the unfortunate effect of forcing my eyes to focus almost perfectly, throwing the person in front of me into perfect relief. A horse stands before me. A lavender horse, with wings and a horn.

I close my eyes and welcome the sweet embrace of death.

"Hello? Sir?"

Said sweet embrace is not arriving. I cough once, then open my eyes and speak properly, my voice raspy.

"Where am I?"

"You're awake! Celestia, he's awake!" The horse in front of me tilts her head upwards to speak to someone behind me. The horses can speak. Interesting.

"I am aware, Twilight," begins a new voice, behind me. I tune out the voices and focus on moving my body. This forces me to have to look at my body and realise that things are different. Very, very different. To begin with, my skin appears to be covered in some sort of fine, blood red hair. Secondly, my hand has been replaced with what appears to be a hoof... The realisation kicks in now, and I scramble upwards, gaining my somewhat shaky balance once more on all fours, where a horse would naturally stand. I surprise myself, this stature is somewhat comfortable. Interesting.

"Sir?" I turn to the source of the voice, a huge, brilliant white horse with a long, flowing mane, two enormous wings and a long, pointed horn. I can sense her to be a being of immense power. "I am Princess Celestia, Diarch of Equestria. May I ask, what is your name?

Interesting. I am presented with a choice. Here, I can reveal my true name, or I can pick a new name, one that I feel I can accept. No more Alex. No more human names. Having shed the human form, I can now shed the human classification. I raise my head and stare her straight in the eye.

"I am Kami."

In other words, I am God.

The mare looks at me coolly, then seems to accept the name. "Kami. Twilight Sparkle and I have summoned you to Equestria for one reason. You are required to protect Twilight Sparkle through her journey to Hollow Shade, near Fillydelphia. I chose you because, as a human, you have the raw power required."

"How exactly does the power differ between a human and, let us say, a trained guardsman, like him?" I gesture to a nearby horse wearing golden armor.

"Because, unlike humans, ponies will refuse to kill. However, humans have shown the capacity to kill throughout their history. Is it not true that your species has committed mass genocide on your own species? More than once?"

"I fail to see how this correlates to me specifically. Or did you believe any human would be able to?" The mare falls silent, unsure of how to answer. I press my advantage. "Throughout recent years, humans have become more accepting of each other. The African-American Civil Rights Movement of 1955-1966 has effectively abolished racism and the ongoing Lesbian Gay Bisexual and Transgender Rights Movement is currently succeeding in removing the threat of homophobia around the world, minus several countries."

Celestia is silent as I finish. After three seconds, she stands. "That does not matter. You are not a part of those movements. In fact, you are the pony, er, person for the job." They're ponies, not horses.

Interesting.

Gathering Weapons

I lie on the bed given to me to sleep in until Princess Twilight Sparkle's departure to Hollow Shades. It is comfortable, adequate for its purpose. I do not feel sleepy, however. Staring up from the bed, I can see every imperfection on the ceiling of the room. There are 22 that I have noticed.

Princess Celestia told me to come to the armoury at seven o'clock tonight, to design and receive weapons. She claimed to know of firearms, but did not have the knowledge to create them. I do not either, so an Equestrian equivalent of a gun is out of the question. Would a Colt .45 pistol still be called a 'Colt'?
No, I require a melee weapon, perhaps two. Potentially up to four. I run through what I could choose. A longsword or broadsword would most likely be too heavy and too large to wield. Daggers, while efficient, would be too small and require an opportunity to get close to an aggressor and potentially get wounded. I decide to keep with an Oriental theme, if named Kami, and choose four weapons that I require:
1. A pair of 5160 Spring Steel Chinese Hook Swords. Not too heavy, not too large, deadly, perfect.
2. A pair of 1060 Carbon Steel Japanese Sai daggers as a backup, should I be disarmed. Daggers, true, but the ability to trap and manipulate an enemy's weapon is a useful ability, regardless of reach.

I stand and walk to my room's bathroom. There is a mirror there, which I use to examine my features. Although not unexpected, it is amazing about how different I truly am. From a brown haired, brown eyed, chubby human boy, I am now a pony stallion with blood red fur covering me and, bizarrely, a blood red horn growing out of my skull. Brilliant, I am a unicorn without wings. My physique is much better, I can see the muscles clench as I flex slightly. My eyes are golden now, and there is a mark on my flank that, despite the mirrored image, I recognise easily.

Kami.

How fortunate. And yet I cannot help but ponder what would the mark be if I had chosen a different title.

It is seven o'clock. I exit my room to be greeted by two burly-looking guards, resplendent in golden armour. Without a single word, they shut my door and walk beside me, guiding me to the armoury. At least, I believe them to be. Unaware as I am of the castle's geography, they may as well be taking me to the mess hall, the bedrooms or even a broom closet for all I know.
"Where are we going?" I ask, receiving nothing but a harsh glare in reply. Perhaps they are unable to talk, or emote in any other way than rage. Still, it is more than I can emote.

Upon reaching our destination, revealed unto me is a veritable treasure trove of weapons. Staffs, spears, swords, knives and pretty much any other type of melee weapon available, plus crossbows and archery bows aplenty. Why it was stated that ponies did not have the ability to kill made no sense to me. Apparently it was is the mind of Princess Celestia, as she speaks now.
"Those blades are not sharp. They have the ability to harm and injure temporarily, but nopony can or will kill with them."
"Myself not included, I presume," I begin, head tilted to the left slightly. "Then again, I cannot assume that hooves provide the required skill to wield many of these weapons."
"Indeed. That is why the Royal Guards are mostly unicorns, with their ability to manipulate their surroundings with their magic," the princess titters. Apparently sensing my mild confusion, she explains. "According to other humans I have summoned, your 'unicorns' are winged and horned ponies, like myself. But that's not right, unicorns do not have wings. What we are are alicorns, and you are a unicorn."
"Intriguing. Perhaps I shall require to utilise magic in order to wield the weapons I have chosen," I remark as I approach the monarch. Her horn glows yellow in what I assume is the aforementioned magic and two sheets of blueprint paper sweep over towards me, covered in the same yellow aura as her horn. I notice a distinct problem at once. "I am unable to draw."
Princess Celestia titters again. "Perhaps some basic magic lessons will be required before we can set you off," she smiles. "You have about a week before the trip is scheduled, plenty of time to learn something." The unicorn before me... Correction, the alicorn before me demonstrates magic again, picking up a pencil and hovering it in front of me. Presumably, this is not unlike the idea of telekinesis, and I attempt to retrieve the pencil from her magic by imagining the pencil floating towards me. The pencil is enveloped in a steely grey aura and remains floating as Celestia relaxes her magic. Experimentally, I move the pencil in a small circle. Sure enough, it moves, much to the surprise of all there. I allow a small smile of success to cross my features.
"Excellent. It would appear that simply being a unicorn grants me some ability with magic," I ponder. "Now then, I have weapons to design." I make my way past Celestia and sit at the table and carefully draw out the weapons I require. Despite my inexperience with magic, the drawings take little time, and soon I am detailing measurements carefully. When finished, I present the papers to the guards nearby, who whisk them away.

"Would you care to join us for some dinner?" The voice of Princess Twilight Sparkle sounds nearby, and it is soon clear that she is addressing me. Wordlessly, I nod and allow the alicorn I will be protecting before too long to lead me to a dining hall. I can only hope that the meal is edible by human standards and has meat, as I have been wanting a steak for a long while now.

Author's Note

Thanks to AxtontheMechanist for proofreading and reading through to make sure I'm not writing anything dumber than usual. Thanks buddy, couldn't do it without ya.

Just so you know, my story Assassinations are Magic is still being written, but I've hit a hard patch of exams recently and haven't found the time to write until now. I'm sorry it took so long and thank you for sticking with me.

Requiescat in Pace
Fluttershy Auditore