You Do (Not) Belong

by 2dextreem

The Third Day: Best Laid Plans

There were no remarkable circumstances that brought Connor out of his otherwise unremarkable sleep on this, his second morning in Equestria. One second, he was asleep, the next, he was abruptly aware of his surroundings, and the myriad of pleasantries that came to his senses even as his brain was busy booting up.

Without opening his eyes, he could feel the comfortable warmth of the sun on his body, contrasting nicely with the subtle morning chill. The inside of the library was as silent and still as... well, a library, the only sounds present being the happy chirps and trills of who knows how many birds nesting in the boughs of the tree house. In fact, the noise was even more noteworthy, at least in his mind, for what was absent. No traffic, no lawnmowers, no planes overhead. No annoying honks and beeps from car alarms or inconsiderate motorcyclists gunning their engines for no reason. The everyday sounds of normal activity -- of people and industry going about their business -- were no longer present. In their place was silence, but a good kind of silence. It was calm, tranquil. Natural.

It was also a subtle reminder of where he was; or rather, where he was not. But he was able to wall off that notion for now, ignoring it in favor of just savoring the peace and quiet.

But there was one thing he couldn’t ignore: the unmistakable scent of breakfast barely wafting through the air, faint and fleeting, like that of a scented candle from across the room. Connor wasn’t quite able to place the flavor, but it smelled rich and buttery and was enough to entice his stomach into joining the call for rousing himself out of bed.

This is really nice. If only every morning could start like this, I wouldn’t so much mind having to get up at all, he thought contentedly as he opened his eyes. Better enjoy it while it lasts. With my luck, things will only go downhill from here.

Blinking a few times, Connor propped himself up on the bed and took a glance around the room, noting that Twilight, Spike, and even little Peewee had apparently gotten up before him. He cast off the bedsheets as he brought his legs out over the edge, then twisted to the side as he began his morning routine. Soon, he was rewarded with the familiar cracks, followed by a particularly loud pop, powerful enough to make him audibly groan from the sensation of released tension that ran along his spine.

“Ooooh, that was a good one.”

He got up on his feet to do a few more stretches, went to his jacket hanging on the bedpost, fished out his glasses and put them on, then shuffled his way over to the open window in order to get a better look at the eponymous Ponyville.

He was able to get a good enough look the night before, but that paled in comparison to the view in the daytime, even though what he saw would probably feel more at home in a Tolkien novel. Most of the town as far as he could see consisted of quaint two-story medieval-style townhouses, all timber frames and thatched roofs, with tendrils of knotted ivy snaking up the sides. The beige-walled buildings didn’t appear to follow any kind of rigid building code, as they were all different sizes and shapes, some placed in neat rows, others in clusters, or just scattered all around. In the daytime sun, everything popped out in sharp clarity and intense colors, framed in the background by rolling green hills, aquamarine skies with fluffy wisps of cloud, and the far distant silhouette of Canterlot looming in the distance, shrouded in dense morning fog.

And by God, the ponies... Ponies of all different colors littered the thoroughfare: mares and stallions, children and adults. Playing, relaxing, or just going about their daily business on an otherwise unremarkable day. There weren’t nearly as many as Connor had witnessed in the city, but there were still quite a few, all uniquely hued, their manes and tails in a multitude of styles, and with so many different cutie marks it was hard to keep them straight. And they all looked so very cheerful, in a saccharine sort of way.

All of it was every bit the place that Celestia and Twilight had made it out to be. Very idyllic, peaceful, and in the morning light, seemingly ripe with opportunity and wonder. It was almost as if the scene had been a set up, like an opening tableau for a story’s first act.

In fact, that’s just what ran through Connor’s mind as he grinned, cleared his throat, and brought out the most robust announcer’s voice he could as he raised his arms in a dramatic gesture.

“The city, of-- Well, no, it’s not really much of a city, is it? The town, of Pony...ville.” He lowered his arms abruptly while shaking his head. “Nah... It's just not the same. Aaaanyways, I think I’ve seen enough.”

Connor went and sat back down on the bed, picking up his socks and sneakers and putting them on. (No need to risk getting a splinter. Ouch.) Then he made his way down the stairs, fully intent on figuring out just what was cooking in the kitchen that smelled so damn appetizing.

Through the main hallway, he stopped outside the door to the kitchen, pausing with his hand on the surface as he took a cursory glance through the small window. On the other side, he could see Spike -- wearing, of all things, a frilly pink apron -- hard at work at the stove with his back turned, while Peewee sat on the counter nearby, a pint-sized chef’s hat adorning his tiny noggin, intently watching Spike’s work with laser-like focus. Twilight was sitting down near the table, taking a sip from something steaming in a small teacup while she held a large bundled scroll in front of her, looking it over. And sitting next to her atop the table was a beige-colored... Connor couldn’t quite tell what it was, other than the fact that it hadn’t been there the night before. It had tufts of grayish brown protruding off the back and top, but whatever it was, it was keeping perfectly, ominously still.

Well, I’d better go in and say hi before one of them notices me creepin’ in the window.

The door announced Connor’s arrival with its typical creaking sound, and he entered in after it while quickly speaking up to address its occupants. “Hey, mornin’.”

“Oh! Morning, Connor!” Spike called over his shoulder, before returning his attention to his cooking.

Peewee let out a short, chirping trill and adorably ruffled his tiny wings upon seeing him, then abruptly decided that monitoring breakfast was immediately more important.

“Morning,” Twilight responded noncommittally, waving a hoof while keeping her eyes on the scroll held up in her magic.

“Hoo,” came a fourth sound from somewhere in the room, causing Connor to look around searchingly, looking for the source.

“What was that?” he asked, just as his eyes centered on the odd object he’d noticed sitting on the table. Just as he finished talking, the thing’s entire upper half soundlessly rotated a complete one-eighty, revealing a face with large round eyes, beady black pupils, and the orange diamond shape of a beak, surprising Connor enough that he gave a startled “Gah!” and almost jumped out of his shoes.

“Hoo,” the thing opened its beak to say again, before hopping the rest of its body around on tiny orange feet to match the position of its head.

Once he had gotten over his initial surprise, it didn’t take long for Connor to add up the details. Wide eyes, squat stature, feathers, hooting; it was obviously an owl. This was confirmed when Twilight took a brief repose from studying her document to look up at the exchange.

“Oh, I forgot you two haven't met yet. Connor, Owloysius. Owloysius, Connor,” she facilitated introductions before going back to whatever she was reading over.

“Uh, hello, Owloysius,” Connor said with a wave of his hand.

“Hoo,” replied the enigmatic owl with a flutter of his wings. As impossible as it seemed, the basic response carried the inflection of a returned greeting.

“Can he understand what I’m saying?” Connor asked hesitantly to nobody in particular, to which Owloysius replied again with another simple “Hoo.”

This isn’t getting anywhere, he thought, shaking his head in bewilderment. Is ‘Hoo’ all it can say? Well, of course. It’s an owl, duh. Hmmm...

The tiny kernel of a joke planted itself in his mind just then, and he felt the unbidden urge to act on it. “Your favorite band is The...”

“Hoo.”

“Horton hears a...” The smile on his face grew wider.

“Hoo.”

“Doctor.”

“Hoo.”

Yes! Connor followed up with a fist pump, rather visibly amused.

“What on Equis are you doing?” Twilight asked without removing her gaze from the rolled up parchment, her voice laced with a hint of annoyance.

“Oh, uh, nothing. Just having a little fun,” Connor explained, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. Twilight merely gave a slight snort and continued her reading. The joke was pretty much over at this point, so Connor sighed, deflated, and took a chair, sitting down to join Twilight and Owloysius at the table. “By the way, just what are you reading that has you so... enraptured?”

“Hmm?” Twilight barely glanced at him, distracted. “Oh, I’m just triple-checking today’s to-do checklist.”

“Huh. Try saying that five times fast,” Connor muttered. “Wait, didn’t you do that last night?”

“No, last night I made the checklist, and now I’m checking to make sure everything on the checklist has been checked over to be sure it’s all there.”

“Sure...” Obsessed? Maybe? Just a little? Connor wondered, giving the pony a look that was equal parts bemused and worried. A followup question was on the tip of his tongue, but it never got the chance, because at that moment Spike appeared almost out of nowhere, jumping up on his stool from past the lip of the table.

Immediately more noticeable than the dragon child himself was what he was holding in his purple claws: a wide tray containing dishware, utensils, a bottle of syrup, and a plate stacked precariously high with a tower of steaming, golden-brown pancakes.

They absorbed all of Connor’s attention, rekindling his hunger as Spike went about setting the table with plates, napkins, and kitchenware. Once that was done, he reached over, piling a good amount of the delicious-smelling golden delights on each of the plates, before undoing his apron, casting it aside, and finally taking his own place at the table.

“Oh, man. If these taste half as good as they look, I think I’m in for a real treat,” Connor commented, having to keep himself from salivating openly.

“Oh, stop,” Spike waved a claw bashfully with a light chuckle at the praise. “Actually, you can keep going if you really want to."

Twilight paused while she telekinetically carved up her portion with a knife and fork, giving Spike a wary glance. “Be careful, Connor. You don’t want to inflate his ego too much.”

Connor was inclined to agree. Right. Less talky, more pancakey.

After applying a good amount of syrup from the bottle on the tray, and digging into his own plate with gusto, Connor looked over to his side to see Spike fiddling with some kind of wooden device closely resembling a pepper grinder with a hand crank on the side. As he watched, the dragon child popped off the top and inserted some kind of lustrous blue object before closing it again and screwing it into place.

“Hey, what's that?” Connor asked as Spike began to turn the crank, and rough chunks of glittering blue were produced from the bottom, accompanied by a gravelly grinding sound.

“Sapphires,” Spike explained matter-of-factly, as he scooped up the combination of precious stones and flapjacks and began chomping away with a sound like sticks of chalk breaking in half. “They go good on anything!”

“Sapphires? Seriously?”

Twilight looked across the table to Connor, at this point prepared to explain whenever he encountered something else he didn’t understand about their world. “Gemstones are a natural part of a dragon’s diet. It’s really no big deal.”

“No big... You know what? I’m just going to take your word for it,” Connor said, finding it decidedly easier to just take this information in stride. “What I want to know is how can you afford to pay for those things when Spike’s just...” He looked over to the dragon, whose cheeks were bulging cartoonishly with the pancake/sapphire mixture.

The dragon stopped chewing and put on an innocent expression. “...Whuh?”

“...wolfing them down?” Connor finished.

Twilight glanced over to her assistant, also finding the sight just as ridiculous as it seemed. “Don’t forget to chew, Spike,” she admonished playfully. “As for your question, we don’t need to pay for them. My friend Rarity hunts for all kinds of gems to use in her dressmaking, and the ones that are scratched, dull, or lower quality, she gives to Spike to eat.”

“Heh, low quality for her, maybe,” Spike piped up after swallowing audibly. “Doesn’t make ‘em taste any different.”

“Oh! Speaking of Rarity,” Twilight said, picking up the conversation. “That’s actually the first thing on today’s list: visit Rarity and see to getting new clothes for Connor. I remember you saying something about that last night when we were talking, and seeing as you insist on wearing what you have since you got here, it seemed like the logical first step.”

“Makes sense, I guess. But how exactly can ‘Rarity’ help?” Connor asked the unicorn, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine anywhere here in Ponyland stocks clothes in my size, if you catch my drift.”

“Which is why I’m going to ask her to make you something. She’s the best tailor in all of Ponyville, and she’s put together some amazing outfits in the past. Something like this would be no problem for her, I’m sure of it.”

“It’s true,” Spike chimed in, scraping the last few morsels off his plate. “She made a Spike-sized tuxedo just for me before the wedding last week. Fit me perfectly!” He trailed off, sighing dreamily with a toothy smile and clasping his claws together. “Of course, everything about Rarity is perfect.”

Ooo...kaaay. Don’t know what that’s about, and I don’t think I want to, Connor thought, turning his attention back to Twilight. “That sounds like a good plan. Just...”

“Just what? Is there a problem?” the unicorn asked.

“No, no problem,” Connor replied hastily. “Just... I don’t know, it seems a little convenient, you know? That you just happen to know somebody that can fix me up with some new digs on a moment’s notice.”

“Well, she is a tailor; it’s her job,” Twilight restated. “And she’s always been more than happy to help a friend in need. I just hope she’s not too busy today. I’d hate to interrupt her if she’s working on a big order or something.”

“Yeah, whatever. I don’t mind either... either... uh...”

Connor didn’t finish his sentence. He was interrupted immediately by an aching pressure that felt like it was originating just behind his eyes. It was the telltale sign of a dull throbbing headache that happened to be coming on at just that moment. Groaning in discomfort, he blinked a few times and raised his hand to his temples, pressing down.

“Is something wrong?” Twilight asked him from across the table, seeming genuinely concerned.

“It’s nothing, just, man. Ow. Killer headache just now,” he complained, screwing his eyes shut and bemoaning both the intensity and the abruptness of the migraine-level ache. To Connor, it felt like a hot coal had nested itself in his brain, pulsing freshly with each heartbeat, and he described it as such to Twilight, who herself wore an inquisitive expression from the news.

“That’s... interesting.” The pony raised a hoof to her chin, staring off into space for a time before returning her focus to the human. “Do you often get headaches like this?”

“Ugh, no. That would suck if I did. Chronic migraines, no thanks,” Connor moaned, before opening one eye and tilting his head back. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, it’s just that, yesterday I noticed you were getting quite a few of them. I counted at least three in the time we spent talking.”

“But that’s not...” Connor’s first thought was What does it matter? followed by You were keeping count? until he actually delved back into his recollection of the previous day, thought about it some more, and realized she actually had a point. “Hey, yeah, you’re right, actually. Maybe I’m coming down... with...”

His innocent suggestion suddenly took a turn for the worse in his own mind as his eyes shot open with a disturbing idea, and he gasped audibly. “What if I have some kind of pony disease? Something my immune system is totally unprepared to handle, like smallpox with the Indians!”

Twilight held out her hooves in a placating gesture. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down, you’re not making any sense,” she calmly explained as she attempted to talk him down from what he considered an all too real possibility. “I doubt it’s some kind of illness. I don’t know much about human anatomy, but cross-species transmission is a highly unlikely scenario. There’s bound to be some simple explanation.”

“Oh? And do you--” he started, in an overly loud and aggressive tone, surely a product of the steady ache in his head and his very real uncertainty. He caught himself before he said something he would regret and breathed in deeply and slowly, resuming where he left off sounding a bit more amicable. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Well... No, not really,” Twilight seemed slightly ashamed to admit. “It could very well just be stress, which is understandable. Or maybe some kind of lingering trauma from whatever it was that brought you here. In any case, overreacting isn’t going to solve anything.”

Twilight’s statement was followed up by a sarcastic snort from Spike, who had just come back to the table after bringing his dishes to the sink. “I don’t know about that, Twi. It hasn’t stopped you from trying,” he joked, spiritedly nudging her flank with his shoulder.

“Ha ha, Spike. Very funny,” she regarded him flatly. “Anyway, give it some time. Who knows? Maybe it really is nothing, and you’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

Yeah, or maybe my brain is bleeding. It sure feels that way. But, hey, what do I know? Probably less than a magic pony who lives in a library, that’s for sure. “Maybe you’re right.” I hope you’re right.

Connor’s worrying was interrupted by a series of sharp pokes in his side, and he looked over to find Spike standing up next to him on his stool. Having grabbed his attention, the dragon child pointed at Connor’s plate, still about a third full of his unfinished meal. “Are you finished with that? If so, I can take it away for ya.”

“Ugh, sure. Go ahead.” Connor pushed the plate over to the edge of the table, the pain in his temples having completely done away with his hunger. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

As Spike cheerfully fulfilled his duties as housekeeper -- just one more job added to the list of his apparent responsibilities -- Connor sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair with his head upraised, moaning piteously. “Can tomorrow come faster, please? This suuuuuucks.”

In response, Twilight simply rolled her eyes. “I think I have something that might help in the meantime.”

Connor heard the sound of a cupboard opening behind him, and with some effort, managed to twist his neck around to see what it was. His eyes locked and narrowed on a small orange capsule levitating itself out of what looked like a medicine cabinet. It bobbed and swayed in Twilight’s magic grip, before making its way over to the table and plonking itself in front of him, its contents rattling inside the plastic.

He picked it up, inspecting the featureless orange canister and its round, white, pill-shaped contents. “Pills?” he asked incredulously.

“Relax, it’s just mild pain medication. The generic stuff, not prescription brand. It’s totally safe for both ponies and animals alike.”

Connor took only half a second to parse what she had said, and another half second for him to see the plainly obvious, though obviously unintentional, slight in her statement.

“So that's really what you think of me, huh?” he said, with just the lightest touch of indignation. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have a goodnatured scoff at her poor choice of words.

Twilight, to her credit, caught on immediately and recognized the fault in her wording, course-correcting and apologizing at once in a stammering rebuttal. “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-- W-what I meant was that--”

“It’s alright. I know what you meant,” he interrupted with a chuckle and a grin. “Jeez, I’m just poking fun at you, lighten up.”

“Oh... I see,” Twilight said quickly, covering up her embarrassment by clearing her throat loudly. “Well, then. I think I should be getting back to the main room. There are a few odds and ends I need to get together before we go out today.”

“Wait, by ‘we’ you mean...”

“Um, of course. You’re coming along, too. What, did you forget the reason the Princess wanted you here in the first place?” The unicorn eyed him suspiciously, before turning with a flick of her bangs and heading for the door. “Besides, how is Rarity going to make you a new outfit if she doesn’t know what you even look like? Am I supposed to describe you to her?”

“Alright, fine. I can take a hint,” Connor grumbled. “Can I at least take a shower first?”

“Sure. Wait, hold on.”

Twilight closed her eyes, and her horn lit up once more. In a flash of purple light, her bundled checklist appeared in the air and unfurled before her. She then studied it intimately before speaking up again.

“Try to keep it under fifteen minutes,” she advised him, closing the scroll and sending it back from whence it came. “Anything more than that and we’d be cutting into the time I have scheduled for ‘unscheduled delays.’”

And with that, she nodded once and quickly made her exit through the door, calling for Spike to follow, himself being trailed by the diminutive Peewee, waddling at full speed to keep up with the dragon. As Connor dully watched the kitchen door swing to and fro on its hinges, the underlying meaning of what Twilight just said suddenly came to him.

She schedules interruptions? It’s official: OCD, thy name is Twilight Sparkle.

With nobody now for company aside from the enigmatic Owloysius, Connor grabbed the small bottle of pills in his hand, turning it over absently while taking stock of the situation.

He currently had a mind-numbing headache for no apparent reason...

He was due to pull off the metaphorical alien walk of shame down the streets of Ponyville Central...

And he just found out he was living with the equine equivalent of Adrian Monk.

In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but acknowledge that he had predicted as much just that morning after getting out of bed.

“Why me?” he groaned, tilting his head and casting an empathetic glance at Owloysius.

“Hoo.”

I’m probably tempting fate here, but maybe today won’t be as bad as I thought, Connor figured to himself, finding it predictably easy to knock on wood as he made his way up to the library’s loft to retrieve his jacket. After availing himself the use of Twilight’s shower, his outlook on the day had grown to be generously more optimistic, based on two factors.

First, his headache was gone, and he praised the high heavens for that. Whether it was due to the pills his unicorn friend gave him, the steam from the hot water clearing his head, a combination of the two, or something else entirely, Connor was simply glad that it no longer felt like his brain was being smashed between the cymbals on one of those windup monkey toys.

Second, an idea occurred to him as he was showering (And don’t they always?) about how to best handle the oncoming exposure to the other ponies in town while drawing as little notoriety as possible. It was an idea that was near genius in its execution; at least, he liked to think so. If it worked, and if Twilight went along with it, it would go a long way towards preventing the predictable outcome of the news that an extradimensional alien had magically appeared and was walking around their peaceful little town.

That’s the plan, anyway.

Shrugging into his coat and zipping it up halfway, Connor walked down the stairs to the ground floor of the tree house just in time to see Twilight magically fastening a pair of saddlebags to her body. They were a light gray in color, embroidered with the pointed starburst that was her cutie mark, and looked to be packed tightly with her aforementioned "odds and ends." She and Spike were apparently just finishing up their preparations, though Connor wasn’t paying any particular attention to the things Twilight listed off to her assistant, who trailed behind her with checklist and quill in claw, marking things off in neat order.

“Check, check, aaaand check,” Spike said, punctuating the last statement with a flourish of his wrist. Twilight looked behind her to her diminutive dragon friend and nodded appreciatively, smiling.

“Well, then, I think that’s everything. Now we just need to wait for Connor and-- Oh, never mind, there you are,” she said, just then taking notice of the human making his way down the stairs. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Much better, actually. Thank you,” Connor replied, touched by her immediate concern for his wellbeing. “Those pills must’ve done the trick. By the way, do you want these back?” he asked her, taking the orange container out of his pajama pockets and shaking it around.

Twilight simply shook her head. “You should hang onto them for today, just in case.” Connor shrugged and put the pill bottle back as he came to the foot of the stairs. “So, are you ready to go outside and meet everypony?”

He couldn’t honestly say that he was. Connor glanced off to the side nervously and took a breath of air, letting out in a loud puff. “Define ‘ready.’”

“Completely prepared or in fit condition for immediate action or use,” Twilight said after a moment of thought, with deadpan seriousness, as if she was reading it straight from a dictionary.

Connor would have facepalmed just then if he didn’t mind smudging up his glasses. He settled for a deep sigh instead. “Define ‘facetious.’”

Twilight glanced at him curiously. “Not meant to be taken seriously or...” Her face gradually shifted into openmouthed realization. “Ohhh. You were being...”

“Yeeeah,” Connor said, raising his eyebrows and nodding slowly.

“Well, you could’ve just said no,” Twilight muttered under her breath, eyes narrowing while her tail gave an errant twitch, like she was shaking away a fly. She swiftly decided to divert the subject. “Why are you being so apprehensive, anyway? Don’t you want to go out and meet my friends and everypony else?”

Connor’s hands started fidgeting as he made a reluctant admission. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s... Okay, yeah, I really don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I’m just... Errgh, how do I say this? I’m just not very keen on feeling exposed like that. I mean, we both know I’m not supposed to even be here, and I’m reeeeeally not looking forward to reminding myself of that with everyone we meet.”

Meanwhile, Spike had finished whatever he was doing and was walking up to Connor, addressing him. “You’re worrying over nothin’. The ponies here are some of the nicest you’ll ever meet!” The dragon child reached over to pat his leg in a reassuring gesture. “They’re gonna love ya. You’ll be the talk of the town!”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Connor said with a grimace. In truth, he was more than slightly familiar with being talked about...

All through his elementary and middle school years, he was no stranger to being ostracized. Indeed, though he now seldom thought of or even cared about what happened then, there was a time in his life when he had precious few friends of his own, and many of the others who weren’t referred to him as the "weird kid." There was the name-calling, the talking behind his back, sitting alone at the lunch table, and one -- thankfully, just one -- occasion where he was physically beat up. He experienced firsthand just how cruel his peers could be. He didn’t let it get to him too much, though, and by the time high school rolled around, most of his former tormentors had finally grown up and left him in peace. The point is, it was an experience Connor was reluctant to repeat, especially when the people involved weren’t even people at all -- at least, not the kind he was used to.

In his mind’s eye, Connor could see the scene: Him, walking between the brick and thatch houses, colorful ponies stopping what they were doing as he passed. Words of conversation transformed into hushed whispers. Unbidden stares from shop stalls and street corners, watching him like motion-sensitive security cameras. Children pausing in their rambunctious behavior to stand, gawking at the stranger in their midst, their wide, expressive eyes filled with a combination of awe and bafflement. He felt like a man sentenced to the stockades, head and arms clasped in a block of wood as he was paraded through town.

He could almost hear the imagined whispers:

Hey, who... What is that?

I heard somepony say it’s an alien.

What’s it even doing here?

Connor gave an involuntary shudder as he forcibly shut off his imagination. He had only spaced out for a second, but judging by the waiting expression on his lavender companion’s muzzle, he thought it appropriate to quickly segue into his main point.

“So, anyway, I’ve come up with a pretty good idea that should keep that kind of stuff to a minimum.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, like she had already guessed what he was about to say. “I already told you, you aren’t going to spend all your time cooped up in the library.”

Connor shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“So you’re just going to avoid everypony?”

“I didn’t say that either, and stop jumping to conclusions. What I mean is that there’s an easier way than walking up to everyone in town and being like ‘Hey there, I’m an alien from another universe! Will you be my friend?’”

“That’s hardly what I had in mind,” Twilight scoffed. “What, did you actually think that’s what we were going to do?”

“Well, no. Maybe. Not exactly.” Connor scratched his scalp, then threw his hands up in a half-shrug. “Just, look, what I’m saying is that my idea would go a long way towards dispelling some of the awkwardness that’s bound to happen when the townsfolk see me.”

“And just what is this brilliant idea of yours?”

“Okay.” Connor clasped his hands together. “What if, instead of telling everyone I’m from another world, we just tell them I’m visiting from the far... very far away country of A-mare-ica. Get it? Eh?”

“Sooo, you wanna lie to everypony?” Spike spoke up, looking up at him skeptically out of the corner of his eye.

“Technically it isn’t lying. More like a different interpretation of the truth. We can explain that I’m just visiting Equestria for a while. Who’s to say the place I’m from doesn’t exist just because they’ve never heard of it?”

“I... I don’t know.” Twilight didn’t look very convinced, looking back and forth, deep in thought.

“Look, this way, instead of all those ponies out there thinking I’m an alien outsider, they’ll just assume I’m some goofy-looking foreigner, like a tourist. And then they’ll think nothing more of it.”

“You got the goofy-looking part down, at least,” Spike said with a straight face. Connor simply tilted his head and gave him a bemused look, which was met with a toothy grin in response. “Sorry, you set yourself up for that one.” Finished joking around, he then started to walk away to the other part of the library, mumbling something about trying to track down a particular phoenix.

“That... actually might work,” Twilight said, nodding to herself with a hoof raised to her chin. “It wouldn’t fool me, of course. Or anypony with a cursory background in geography. Or anypony with an atlas on hoof.”

“Stop poking holes in my master plan!” Connor cut her off quickly with a hint of mock indignation.

“You’re right, you’ve obviously given this a lot of thought,” Twilight chided snarkily with a sly smile. “Fine, we’ll give your idea a shot, if only to get you out the door.”

Twilight turned and clopped over to the library door, the cherry-red wood starting to glow in her magic aura as she talked over her shoulder. “Though, take my advice: if you really want to keep a low profile, then for the time-being you should probably steer clear of--” Right in the middle of talking, the door swung open just as Twilight turned to face it. “--Pinkie Pie!” The end of her sentence was upturned with a startled noise and she jerked nearly a foot in the air.

“Hi, Twilight!” came a bubbly, high-pitched voice from beyond the door’s threshold.

Acting quickly and without thinking, Connor instinctively ducked behind the table in the center of the room. He only caught a brief glimpse of a pink, puffy, pony-shaped mass before moving to put the wooden bust between him and whoever was standing at the door. Out of sight and with his pulse slightly elevated, Connor sat completely still and listened closely while Twilight conversed with the newcomer.

“H-hello, Pinkie. Um, uh, w-what brings you to the library?” Twilight stammered out, coming down from her sudden shock.

“Itchy-hoof, twirly-tail, creaky-neck,” the enthusiastic voice apparently belonging to "Pinkie" offered as if that could explain everything.

Twilight was silent for a few moments before speaking up, her tone more hesitant than surprised now. “I’m not sure I’ve heard that one yet. What does it mean?”

“It means there’s something super strange and super new and super exciting in Ponyville! And it’s a doozy! I’ve been itchin’ and twirlin’ and creakin’ since I woke up!”

Twilight tried to casually look back over her shoulder into the room, catching Connor’s glance just as he was peeking lightly over the lip of the bust. As soon as he caught the look in her eye, he ducked back behind the table, and Twilight turned back to address Pinkie again.

“And soooo... why’d you come here?”

Pinkie gave an exasperated sigh. “Well duuuh! Because you’re the smartest, cleverest, curiousest, strange-thing-investigatingest pony I know! And if anything interesting was going on in Ponyville, I’m sure my best friend Twilight would be aaaall over it!” she said in rapid-fire form.

“Aww. Thanks, Pinkie,” Twilight said bashfully, looking away and scuffing her hoof on the wooden floor. “That’s nice of you to-- Pinkie?” The unicorn raised her head to find the entrance to the library completely bare, her pink friend having disappeared without a trace. “Where’d you go?” she asked, leaning past the door and craning her neck around.

His curiosity piqued by Twilight’s confusion, Connor tentatively stood up and peered at the doorway, just as baffled as her, and wondering what to make of the pink pony’s sudden appearance... and disappearance.

Is she gone? Who was that? What the hell was she talking about? Connor’s train of thought was interrupted as he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. And why do I feel... like... somebody’s...

Connor felt his shoulders unconsciously stiffen, and he turned his neck ever so slowly, eyes glued to the corners of his vision. Halfway through the turn, he suddenly shifted his entire body to face the somebody he had sensed behind him. Reacting instantly, it suddenly jumped up, uncomfortably invading his personal space. “Hi!”

“Whoa!” Connor shouted, startled by the wall of pink that had seemingly appeared from nowhere. As close as she was, Connor got a good look at her, taking in the details of the swirly, curly, cotton candy masses of her mane and tail, her sparkling blue dinner plate eyes, the trio of balloons on each side of her flank, and especially the impossibly large smile that seemed somehow too big for her muzzle.

Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, he voiced the first question that came to mind: “Where the hell did you come from!?”

“Outside,” she said simply.

“How did you get in!?”

“I used the door,” she went on, giggling like he had just asked if the sky was blue.

“Um... Uh...”

“I’ve never seen you around here before. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen anypony like you around here before. And I know everypony and every not-pony in Ponyville, so you must be the super strange, super new, super exciting thing! I’m Pinkie Pie!” The pink pony paused in her accelerated talking style to hold out a hoof to the bewildered human.

Connor returned the gesture, hesitantly grabbing her furred hoof and shaking it up and down slowly. “I’m uh... Connor.”

“A connor?” Pinkie asked inquisitively, tilting her head.

“Um, no. I mean my name is Connor.”

Pinkie Pie pivoted her head in the other direction. “You’re a connor named Connor? That’s silly! That’s almost as silly as a griffin named Griffin! Not that I’ve ever met a griffin named Griffin, but if I did, it would be pretty silly! Have you ever met a griffin before? I have! Her name was Gilda, and she wasn’t a really nice griffin. Me and Rainbow Dash--”

The motormouthed equine was suddenly cut off by a walled sphere of translucent purple light, which grew up out of the floor and encased her inside. Though, she seemed not to notice, her mouth still moving but producing no sound as she bobbed her head during the one-sided conversation. Twilight, her horn dimming from the recently cast spell, stepped up next to Connor.

“And here we go,” she stated dully, like she expected as much to happen.

Connor turned to look down at the unicorn. “I’m really confused. Who is this? What is she talking about?”

“This is my friend, Pinkie Pie,” Twilight explained after a heavy exhale. “Don’t worry, this is completely normal. For Pinkie, anyways.”

Meanwhile, the fuchsia-colored pony was still going at it, and Connor regarded her off behavior with intrigue. When is she going to stop for breath? “How did she get in here? She sneaked right up behind me like a freakin’ ninja!”

Twilight shook her head. “I’ve learned to stop asking those kinds of questions a loooong time ago.”

Suddenly there was a low reverberating sound, like a bass drum, coming from the sphere. Apparently, Pinkie had stopped talking and was now tapping on the surface with her hoof, a stoic look on her face. With an amused snort, Twilight’s horn glowed again, and she resignedly dispelled the soundproofing enchantment.

“Thanks, Twilight. Now, where was I?” The smile returned. “Oh, yeah! Because you’re new in town, you get to have your very own, Pinkie Pie special, ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ party!”

With her exclamation, the exuberant equine experienced an immediate vertical displacement of nearly seven feet, excitedly jumping into the air and spreading her hooves, accompanied by a simultaneous blast of confetti. She landed squarely without any rebound, looking up at him and expecting his reaction.

“A party? Seriously?” Connor regarded her incredulously, his mind still trying to play catchup to what he was witnessing before him.

“Thaaaat’s right! And everypony’s invited!”

Connor’s face fell slightly. “Every...pony?” he asked nervously, already afraid of where this was going.

“Yup, everypony in Ponyville! They’re gonna be so excited; I haven’t thrown a ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ party since Cranky Doodle came to town!”

Twilight interjected, choosing her words slowly and carefully. “Actually, this time I don’t think that’s... quite a good idea right now.”

Pinkie turned to face her unicorn friend. “Why not?” Her wide smile fell away instantly, replaced by a dour, serious expression as she turned back to Connor. “Don’t you like parties?”

The look on Pinkie’s face was downright pitiful, like that of a lost puppy. Connor could only stare and open his mouth wordlessly, not quite sure how to react. Thankfully, Twilight quickly grabbed Pinkie’s attention by waving a hoof in between them.

“No, no! I’m sure Connor would love your parties,” she attempted to explain. “He just... wants to take things a little slow. Ease into it. Because he’s, well...”

The pink pony’s features screwed up in concentration before apparently having an epiphany. “Oh, I get it. You’re just shy!”

“Yes! Very shy,” Twilight agreed instantly, nodding animatedly. “Can’t stand crowds. Isn’t that right, Connor?”

Connor noticed she was addressing him just then. “Uh... Yeah, uh huh. What she said,” he confirmed, only partially following the tangled thread of logic cast in front of him.

Pinkie’s smile returned instantly, her eyes once again bright and full of cheer. “Well, that’s no reason you still can’t have a welcoming party! Hmmm. Think, Pinkie Pie, think.” The party-obsessed pony walked back and forth through the library entirely on her hind legs, one forehoof rubbing her chin with the other held behind her back.

After a few seconds, she suddenly stopped, resuming a three-legged stance while the hoof behind herself inexplicably produced a yellow light bulb, which she held above her head just as she exclaimed, “I got it! How about we have just a teensy tiny party with just our friends?”

Twilight spoke up with slightly forced enthusiasm. “I think that’s a great idea, Pinkie. Why don’t you go set that up? Connor and I have a lot to get done today, if you don’t mind.”

“You betcha, Twilight. Just one more thing before I go.” She turned to face Connor once more. “You gotta promise me that eventually, I can throw you a party and invite everypony. And I mean everypony. Got it?” Pinkie looked him squarely in the eyes, and he couldn’t be sure, but he swore he saw a dangerous glint in her bottomless pupils.

“A-alright. Alright, fine.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Pinkie Promise?”

The teenager gave her a confused look. “Huh?”

Pinkie sighed again, acting as if what she was talking about was common knowledge. “It’s easy, I’ll show you. Cross my heart...” she began, making an X over her chest. “...and hope to fly...” The second part was accompanied by the pantomiming motion of flapping wings over her shoulders. “Stick a cupcake in my eye!” She finished by placing her hoof squarely over one of her eyes.

Connor blinked a few times before responding. “Ooo...kaaay. Cross my heart and hope to fly... Stick a cupcake in my... eye?” he repeated the promise, mimicking Pinkie’s motions as he did so.

Seemingly satisfied, Pinkie’s nodded enthusiastically, her grin growing even wider. “Okey-dokey-lokey! See you guys at the party!” She sang out merrily, bouncing up and down in steady rhythm as she made for the door leading out for the library. As he watched her leave, Connor could swear she was humming the tune of Yankee Doodle.

And just like that, the library was deathly silent once again. Connor’s brain idled for a moment as he tried -- and failed -- to make sense of pretty much everything that had just occurred regarding Twilight’s insane friend.

The bouncing, the confetti, that face... Where did that light bulb come from!? Where did it go!? At a loss, he looked down at Twilight with a grimace, and voiced what exactly was on his mind. “What the hell just happened?”

Twilight breathed out a sigh. Whether it was one of relief or resignation, he couldn’t be sure. “Pinkie Pie happened. Don’t worry, you get used to it... eventually.”

“Riiiight.” Connor held out his hand, the one he used to make the "Pinkie Promise," and stared at his palm. “Why do I have this feeling like I just signed a contract in blood?”

“Because you might as well have. Come on, we’ve wasted enough time as it is. Let’s get going to Rarity’s.” The lavender mare seemed all too eager to move on, galloping back to the door in a hurry. She stopped just past the opening, turning to regard Connor with an air of impatience. “Well? Come on.”

“Right. Okay.” Connor snapped out of his reverie. Following in Twilight’s wake with slow, determined steps, he attempted to psych himself up for the inevitable. You can do this... You can do this...

He stopped at the door frame, bracing his slightly sweaty palms against the grainy wood, and looked out into the open for a good many seconds. He then shut his eyes closed and breathed in a lungful of the air, feeling somehow rejuvenated and invigorated by its freshness.

Connor released his breath slowly and steadily, opened his eyes, dropped his hands to his sides... and took a single step forwards.