Turns out having a specific purpose to punch a door doesn’t it make any more effective than not having one—which is to say, it wasn’t at all effective. The door was still closed, I was still in this cell, and about the only thing I had accomplished was bruising my scaled knuckles. I was in the process of brainstorming a better plan.
But where my progress in escaping had been lacking, my progress in the fashion scene was reaching new heights. Sort of. Okay, probably not. Since this was all officially “real” I couldn’t just go around naked anymore, no matter how fluffy I was. Especially not with talking unicorns roaming around who could drop by at any moment without notice. Just because I looked like an animal doesn’t mean I had to act like one.
Therefore, I’d taken it upon myself to fabricate some improvised clothing out of all the materials I had on hand—a short list that only included a single bedsheet. The result was my best attempt at a toga of sorts made by wrapping the sheet around my torso and tying it over a shoulder. It probably wouldn’t be making its way into magazines anytime soon, but it did a sufficient job of covering everything that needed to be covered. There was the slight issue of my tail getting in the way and preventing proper containment, requiring things to be a bit breezier that I’d have preferred, but it was good enough. It also had the added bonus of wrapping around my useless wings and keeping them from dragging on the floor. Overall I’d rate it a three out of ten on style points, and a seven out of ten on functionality.
Its primary function of keeping my ass covered from potentially prying eyes was tested sooner than expected, when I almost didn’t notice getting visited for a second time around noon. From my place on the bed, I barely spotted the empty tray I’d put back in the door-window getting stealthily replaced with a filled one. But I did, and I was back at the door as quickly as I could, moving the new tray aside and mashing my face back into the bars. The blurry, brown-coated deliverer-of-food had already made it halfway down far down the hall with the empty tray on their back.
“Hey wait!” I called out.
They stopped and turned back to face me. “Oh, you’re up.” The voice was definitely that of what’s-her-face, the one who’d argued with Mr. Angry over bringing food earlier. Slowly, she walked back towards my cell and into the range where I could properly see things.
She was a horse-alien-creature like Mr. Angry, but that was where the similarities ended. She was even shorter than he was, her muzzle was more curved, and she had long dark hair. Or was it a mane? I didn’t know. She also lacked the horn he’d had. So, she wasn’t a unicorn. I guess Planet Unicorn now had to be redesignated as Planet Variety-Horse or something.
Where Mr. Angry trashed all his potential cuteness points, she did not. When she stopped outside the door and had to tilt her head up to meet my gaze, I was immediately reminded of a puppy or other criminally-adorable animal.
“I thought you were asleep and didn’t want to wake you,” she said. She turned her head back and grabbed the empty tray off her back with her mouth, then set it on the floor.
“Nah,” I said. “Just, uh, lounging. Thanks for the foodstuffs, by the way. I overheard the tail end of your argument with that guy earlier. I appreciate your blatant disregard for the instructions to not bring more food.” I really did. I was getting hungry again.
“You mean Graywall? Yeah, well, he’s an ass.” She snorted. “I’m not going to let you starve while he keeps you locked up in here. Griffon, burglar, or not.”
So, they thought I was a burglar? That certainly explained some things. Like why I was locked in this room for instance. That the guy holding me was the one who thought he was being robbed was also further evidence of being in the same building as the place I’d arrived. That could prove useful. “Eh, I don’t think I’ll be around long enough to starve.”
“Yeah? Have you got some grand escape planned?” She smirked. “Hopefully something more elaborate than your entrance.”
“Well there’s that, and Mr. Angry—Graywall—plans on getting rid of me,” I said nonchalantly.
“What? He said that?”
“Yeah, after you left earlier he came over here and said some stuff about putting me on a boat and making me disappear. Forever.” I said in a mock-ominous tone and wiggled my fingers. “He was definitely trying to ruffle my feathers.” I chuckled a little at that.
She was quiet and didn’t say anything for a while. When she did, her voice wasn’t as light as it was before. “I think he might be serious.”
That put an end to my giggles. “Oh?”
She continued, “He does business overseas all the time. Boats go down the river to the coast every day, and he has his own ships at the port. He could absolutely make good on that threat and I don’t think anyone outside this building would notice. The only question is if he would.”
I thought back to what Graywall had said to me. “The way he worded it, it kinda sounded like he wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept, and maybe had done something similar before.”
“Dear Celestia…” Her ears went back flat on her head. “I— I always figured he was doing stuff under the table, but just like… smuggling to avoid taxes and the like. Nothing like this. Now he’s foalnapping people who cross him, and—what?—’disappearing’ them across the sea?”
I spoke slowly, “Kinda sounded like he was going for slavery or something. That was the impression I was getting. Said something about ‘zebrica’ and someone paying him? Could be wrong. He was really vague.”
“Slavery?!” Her eyes went wide. ‘No! No no no no no. Nuh-uh! Not what I signed up for.” She began frantically trotting in tight circles and talking a mile-a-minute. “I just took this job to get away from the other shit-show. A nice, quiet job away from things, cooking and cleaning for a mostly-respectable business pony. Housing included! It was supposed to be nice! But nooo, he has to go and be buddies with Celestia-damned slavers! I’m not about to become an accomplice to this. I do not want my next address to be the castle dungeons.”
I nodded along. “I can relate to you on the whole ‘not wanting to be locked in a cell’ thing.”
She stopped pacing and brought a hoof to her head. “Right—sorry. It’s just… a lot.” She stood up straight and took a deep breath. “No, you can’t stay here.”
“I agree. But I’m gonna be honest with you. That escape plan of mine? Currently, it’s a toss-up between ‘waiting until I wake up from this shit’ and ‘claw at the door until it falls off the hinges’. Unless you have a key to this door?”
She gave me a confused look for a moment and then shook her head. “No. I don’t. I think only Graywall has the keys to these halls. But I— I’ll try to get you out of there. Soon. Right now though, I have to get back to work before somepony gets suspicious. But I’ll also be looking for ways to help you. Maybe somepony else has a key, or will help.” She stood up on her rear legs and rested her forehooves on the door so she was eye level. “I’ll be back this evening with dinner if nothing goes wrong. Just hang in there.”
I almost rolled my eyes at that. Right, as if I had anything else to do but ‘hang in here’. But I couldn’t say that. Not with her looking at me with those huge eyes and that hopeful expression. “Yep. I’ll be here… Working on my part of the plan.”
At that, she gave a single, firm nod and dropped back down on all fours. She scooped up the empty tray in her mouth, placed it on her back, and briskly trotted off. When the sound of her hooves faded into silence, I picked up my own tray of food and walked on three legs back to the bed. I put my lunch up onto the bed and then flopped next to it. It was a sandwich, I had no idea what was in it. Some kind of mystery plants and cheese, among other things. I tore off half of it in one bite and chewed.
Hey, brain? If this is all actually you, could you please stop being so imaginative? Thanks.