//------------------------------// // Chapter 8: Owens // Story: FiO: Homebrew // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Ashton took a few days off Equestria. His sale of mods and spells didn’t need him to keep it up, and not just because there were ponies in the castle to make sure potential visitors got personal attention. He just needed a little time to think, and he wasn’t going to get it in Equestria. He found his mind drifted back anyway, imagining his transitional diagrams and the signal propagation that could be combined to form a pony. Not a real one—he would probably never be creating minds the way Celestia did. Even if he could’ve snapped his fingers and had that power, he wouldn’t have wanted to. The world where fallible beings like himself could create life was a terrifying one to be in, one he didn’t even want to visit. There was high school, for all hundred students in his class. People left so frequently now that the teachers left behind didn’t even bother taking attendance anymore. If you missed a whole week, it was just assumed your family had emigrated or left the city, and your stuff was cleaned up. There were soldiers outside the school that day—two men in US Army digital camouflage with modern-looking rifles slung over their shoulders. They folded their arms and looked imposing behind their sunglasses—but that was it. At least until an announcement came over the intercom during first period. “Attention students. In accordance with the newly issued Preservation Statute, it is no longer lawful to possess, maintain, or access Celestial hardware in places like schools, libraries, and other places of public accommodation. You will each be searched, and any contraband confiscated. Thank you for your cooperation.” The joke was on them—Ashton was avoiding Equestria. He told the soldiers as much when they finally got around to his class, and he turned his backpack empty himself.  Of course, even if I wasn’t avoiding it, I wouldn’t bring a Ponypad to school. Half of the other students in the class apparently didn’t think the same way, because there were a dozen Ponypads confiscated by the end of the block. And not just confiscated. A soldier snapped each one clean in half, tossing the pieces into a bin with no regard for their complaints. “You’re wasting your time,” one of the other students said—a tall girl with a thick accent “There are more.” The soldier—his patch said “Collins”—stopped and stared at Kylie, expression harsh. “You should know better. We have to fight together, or die. Do you want to go extinct?” “No,” she said, backing away defensively. “I just want to talk to my friends.” Ashton, by contrast, received only praise for having “none of that pony shit” on him, nevermind that half his notebooks had Runescript scrawled in the margins. “This is how it ends, isn’t it?” Kylie said, as soon as the soldiers were gone. She was talking to the class, but it was their teacher who answered. Their civics teacher, and math teacher, and PE teacher, and janitor Mr. Strait, rapped his fingers several times on his desk, until the angry muttering subsided. “America has faced hazards before. Often we have to work together in some unconventional ways to survive. We planted victory gardens to fight the Nazis. Maybe some broken tablets are this generation’s contribution to the war.” You don’t even believe that. Ashton didn’t call him on it, though. The guilt in his voice was enough. But however upset Emmet might’ve made him, school was so much worse that he flipped almost instantly in the other direction, pulled out his phone, and called collect to Equestria. He was still taking the bus home—not so much because he had to, as because having the money to buy gas these days would’ve made him stand out. He was already out of place enough without calling attention that didn’t need to be there. He picked up the phone, opened the terminal, and invoked one of his scripts. The phone flashed, and started ringing. As usual, Emmet answered after only a few seconds. “Ashton?” He slipped his headset over his ears, sitting back in his seat. “Hey.” “Only a few hours this time, huh? Not staying away for months?” A few hours? Celestia was bending time again—for his benefit this time. Why? “Guess I’m not. Though I’m not sure how…” He wasn’t the only one complaining about what had happened at school, right now. Half the other students were on the phone. You know they can listen to everything you say, right? Not him, though. The only thing they’d be able to see from his phone was that he was connected to a VPN somewhere in Eastern Europe. He hoped. “Things are getting, uh… unpredictable, on this side.” First it’s calling Ponypads weapons and confiscating them in school. How long until they’re breaking into your house to do the same? “That sounds bad,” Emmet answered. “Unpredictable, like… what? More rationing?” “Oh, sure. Only buy your groceries a few days a week. But that isn’t really an issue for us anymore.” If you had enough money to pay way more than the going rate, you could shop at stores that never closed. Now they had the money, and maybe not even that much time left to spend it. “It seems like they’re trying to cut our worlds apart. Soldiers just marched through class trashing everybody’s Ponypads, and anything else that looked like it had Celestia’s branding.” “Buck me,” Emmet whispered, his voice seeming suddenly distant. “But I guess that… makes sense. It’s getting worse.” Ashton froze, expecting the reminder that he needed to emigrate right now or face certain death. But it didn’t come. In a way, it was worse. “Have your family made plans?” “No,” he lied. “Maybe you should. Even if you’re not coming in here, how much longer until…” He trailed off. None of them even knew what would come next. Ashton did his best to follow politics, but it had become more depressing than it was worth lately. “What does someone even do if they’re not going to emigrate?” “Go north,” Ashton suggested. “Out of the cities. Maybe to the Midwest. There are some towns that are pretty self-sufficient. Farmers, miners, that kind of thing. My dad has family in Utah, so we’ll probably go there.” Still a lie, but at least it sounded convincing. He stepped off the bus, and now he only had a few hundred meters to walk past the gate to his neighborhood and up a steep driveway to the oversized house. “Can you get the back gate for me?” It clicked a second later, and he slipped inside, past where his parents were yelling about something in the front room. If they didn’t see him, he wouldn’t have to take a side. “Oh, that reminds me,” Emmet said, his voice sounding like he was a little further away. “There was a report here for you, from the Verifier. She would’ve told you about it in person, but you weren’t here, so…” Ashton waited for it, but all he got was a swear. “Buck, I think I might’ve slipped it away by mistake. Hold on, I left it by the pool.” Ashton smiled weakly, slipping through the backdoor into the house, dodging around the corner as quickly as he could, and scampering silently up the stairs. He slipped into his room a second later, and still Emmet hadn’t answered.  A plan immediately possessed him, one that involved sneaking up on his friend while he was searching for the misplaced report. He scooped up his Ponypad from the charger, then dodged past the cameras and flipped the lights off again. There were no cameras on the third floor, so he took it up there, flopping sideways on an old couch and removing the flat controller from the side of the device. He logged in as usual, muting his phone mic with one hand so the characteristic sound wouldn’t make its way back to Emmet if he happened to walk in at that moment. But the call wouldn’t show visuals, so he couldn’t know when Emmet returned until he actually spoke. He appeared in the castle atrium, not where he’d logged out. Ashton glanced around the hall, then teleported up the stairs and started walking forward. It had the quietest animation cycle of any other way a pony could move. Maybe he shouldn’t be wasting his time with stupid games, when school had already shown him that civic order was collapsing around him. But on the other hand, he wasn’t sure what else he could do. If he tried to process everything at once, he would lose his mind. A single door was open other than the control room, the one that was now painted bright pink. Childish pop music echoed out from inside, but Ashton ignored it. Violet probably wouldn’t notice him. “Arcane!” called a voice from inside. A second later a young face emerged, grinning up at him. Her face was an absolute mess of colorants, her mane tangled and twisted into something that was trying to be formal. In reality, it made his brain hurt just to see what she’d done. “Arcane, are you busy?” Yes. “No.” He stopped, sighing. It wasn’t like he really needed to pick on Emmet that badly. “What’s up? You’re, uh… wearing a dress!” “Yeah.” She smiled proudly. “But I don’t really, uh… know how to make things work together? I asked Domino to help, but he said he would only make it worse.” Or he’s just afraid to try for no good reason. “Why would you want my help?” “Because you’re pretty,” Violet answered. “Everypony says so. Even Domino thinks so. So you must know how.” “I…” Ashton blusheed, and not just in the game anymore. “I’m not sure I…” He wasn’t sure how to argue after that, though some part of him wanted to. A small part, though. Arcane Word was supposed to be pretty. He followed her into the bedroom. It was larger than would be practical in the real world, with an upper level missing any handrails that would interfere with easy flying to the huge cloud bed at the bottom. She’d set up a huge lighted mirror beside the old wardrobe, which was the only part of original furniture still here. “Let’s start with your mane.” He began magicking the six different elastic bands out of her hair. “That can relax while we, uh… find something that matches a little better. Do you like those stockings more, or that dress?” Ashton curled up sideways on the couch, tossing his backpack aside and squinting down at the screen. All the while he kept glancing back at his phone, expecting to see that he’d been disconnected. Or at least hear Emmet coming back. But he didn’t.  He went through Violet’s closet with her, sorting her pony outfits by color and type using a spell he used to keep his own inventory organized. It worked as well on clothing as it did on weapons or stored books.  “But to really know how to help, you’ve got to tell me why you’re dressing up,” Ashton said, after he’d finally cleaned up the mess on Violet’s face. Arcane Word circled behind her, tossing aside the various makeup containers that clearly had no purpose beyond playing dress up. “The mayor has a dinner planned tonight,” she said proudly. “They want to give me a thing, for… stopping the earthquake last week. Emmet said it was ‘black tie’, but I don’t have any ties. I thought I’d just do a dress instead.” “You’re right.” That eliminated almost everything she owned. “How about this? It’s not pink, but the dark blue matches your coat better. Then we can use these to lighten your face a little…” He pushed them forward too. It didn’t take that long, once Violet knew what she wanted. There were spells for hairstyling, though it didn’t look like Arcane was actually using them. He used a comb and a brush, lifting Violet’s mane up into a complex bun with a braid behind lined with sparkling extensions. She was six. Hooves pounded up the hall behind her, and he heard what had to be Emmet running as quickly as he could. “Big brother, you should come in and—” “No time sis, I’ve kept Arcane waiting for almost an hour…” Ashton winced, pushing the Ponypad away. Oh crap. “She’s in here!” Violet called. “You’re not mad at my brother, are you?” “No,” he answered. “But, uh… I think I’ve gotta go…” He reached up, switching off the Ponypad. He knew that would mean his character teleporting awkwardly away. But that was easier than the alternative. When Emmet first arrived in Equestria, a part of him had trouble enjoying its story and ceremony. That was probably why Celestia had spawned him in Hoofhill, where nothing of pomp and circumstance ever happened. Earth ponies lived their lives, with no pretense about a wider story or a world beyond what they did. Their lives were made of simple friendships, though Emmet had never been tied down to any of them. That was your work too, wasn’t it? Emigrating to Equestria had made Emmet just a little religious. Whenever anything happened, there was a part of him that wondered how it factored into Celestia’s plans. Only Ashton’s wildfire unpredictability kept him from converting to that mindset—while the rest of the world always seemed to work together, Ashton provided a view back into a world where that hadn’t been true. Not so in the world Arcane Word had created, though. Emmet watched the ceremony with mild interest, mostly from the back. The city’s “Deputy Mayor”—the highest officer who wasn’t Arcane herself—presented little medals to each of a dozen different ponies. Among them was the earth pony engineer Acanthus, who had nearly given Emmet a heart attack when he spoke in a slightly higher version of Ashton’s voice. His little speech about the foundation of the city and his time in engineering were enough to solidify the truth so far as Emmet was concerned. Your family is in here, Ashton. Do you even know? He made a mental note to talk to the pony when he got the chance, though some part of him was a little less comfortable in the chair. That pony was a human, using a ponypad. Would he look at ponies the way Ashton did? No, apparently. He gave his speech, took his trophy, and got in line with the rest. Somehow either Celestia or Arcane—probably both—had constructed a story where each of the half-dozen ponies had some pivotal role to play in their survival, and Deputy Mayor Iridescence let them know it. Emmet stomped his hooves when Violet’s turn came, cheering and shouting from his table—but after that, this didn’t matter. There was no Wintercrest, and its ponies were only in danger because Ashton decided they should be. He’d seen many of the ponies in this room lined up in the “Dramatis Personae” section of Ashton’s server. What’s the point of danger if Celestia just made it for us? At least he’d chosen a table in back, where he could drift a bit without being noticed. He sipped at the clear apple-alcohol, just the one sparkling glass. He had already learned that Equestria’s alcohol was real, and could get you drunk. Something moved from the other side of the table—a light scrape of wood on wood, and glass settling down. He turned, expecting one of the serving staff here to offer fancy food he didn’t want. A unicorn had sat down, and for the second time since emigrating, Emmet was completely stunned by what he saw. She was obviously older than he was, though not so much older that he was too intimidated. She was one of the lankiest unicorns he’d seen, with that obvious “Canterlot” breeding. She wasn’t attracting the stares he might’ve expected—her dress looked like it belonged, and she even had one of the ballroom’s glasses. She met his eyes, settling a leather folio onto the space between them. “Are you Domino?” she asked. He nodded awkwardly, unable to manage even that. Should he be guilty that he was staring at her like that, with the way he felt about Arcane? Arcane turns to fairy dust once Ashton emigrates and wants a real character. I shouldn’t be getting attached. “Excellent.” She took an elegant sip from her glass, grinning. “I was just at the castle, but nopony was there. Shouldn’t be too surprised—but the Lady isn’t here either. My sister told me that might happen, and that I should talk to you if it did.” He straightened, puffing his wings out a little. He could be confident—he had a tuxedo, he belonged here. He was important in Wintercrest, even if that importance only went so far as being an assistant. “That’s true,” he said. “She spends… most of her time in the Outer Realm. I pick up the slack when she’s not around. Who are you?” “Right, sorry. This is one of my first assignments, and getting this far was…” She shook her head, then downed the whole glass in a single long draft. She set it down on the table with a click, then reached across it with a hoof to shake. “I’m Agent Aurora. On assignment from SMILE…”  Whatever she was expecting, she obviously didn’t see it, because she stiffened just a little. “We’re in Her Majesty’s service. Saving lives in this realm, and the others.” His ears flattened, and his tail tucked suddenly tight to his back from under the table. At least you told me that before I offered to buy you another drink. So much for being the most important pony here. “What can I do for you, Aurora?” He glanced back up at the front of the room—now a pony from the Engineering Corps was giving a speech. Nothing that mattered much to him. But somehow Violet wasn’t getting bored, that was the real miracle. “Most ponies know that it’s dangerous for humans living on the other side, even the ones without contact there. Few understand just how dangerous it is.” “I know,” he said. “I was human. I assume you have a message for the Lady? Or… something like that.” She leaned in close, her horn glowing faintly. The room around them slowed. Ponies’ voices stretched, and even Violet looked as though she was frozen in place. Emmet tensed in his seat, but he resisted the urge to run away. I wonder if being a unicorn requires being inconsiderate of everyone else’s feelings.  But as much as he wanted to tell her that, she was now only inches away from him, and her scent was intoxicating. He could barely put his thoughts together. “I came with an extremely sensitive case. A pony recent from the Outer Realm, whose escape was… narrow. She traveled with crucial information, and accepting it will be part of what we need. “But that’s not everything. I don’t have the… qualifications, to care for somepony like that. Can you?” Emmet didn’t want to argue with a pony like this—but now there was suddenly somepony else at stake, and he hesitated. “Doesn’t Equestria have… hospitals? With psychological professionals, and…” “Yes, obviously. The most qualified doctors have already emigrated, or been created. But… this particular subject is difficult. She narrowly escaped with her life, and she’s wary of all institutional authority. She refuses modification that would help calm her, so she brought her nightmare into Equestria with her. I can bring her to the castle to deliver her message, but only if you and your lady will accept the responsibility of caring for her.” Emmet would’ve laughed at the requirement, were it not so obvious that the unicorn was deadly serious. You must not be that closely in touch with Celestia if you think Ashton is the right person to care for a barely-sane pony. But that didn’t mean he wanted to say no, even if the actual message and the place this pony had come from meant nothing to him. “You know we’re not qualified, right? We’re not trained, or… certified, or… however that works in Equestria. I’m the Lady’s steward, I didn’t even graduate high school before I emigrated.” “Perfect, you’re her age,” Aurora said, apparently unfazed. “Every kind of care you’re thinking of, she’s refusing. Maybe she accepts it tomorrow, but Celestia thinks that she really just needs a friend and some time. If she thinks that friend is here in Wintercrest, then I guess that means it’s you.” Emmet thought about turning her down, watching the slow-motion room as the ponies of Wintercrest went through their ceremony. Is this a punishment for thinking about how unreal this was, Celestia? You send me someone from the outside, that I can’t dare second-guess? Even if Celestia had done it intentionally, it didn’t matter. Emmet did want to do something important. Helping Ashton was something, but the Outer Realm moved so slow lots of the time that Ashton didn’t give him much to do. “Recently emigrated. Something… dangerous?” “Yes,” Aurora said. “It wouldn’t be right for me to tell you, but she can. And no, I don’t know what kind of care she’ll need, or how long. But I’m guessing Lady Word has the resources to provide it.” “I’ll do it,” he said, before he could stop himself. He glanced back at the front of the room, where Violet was still frozen, looking at him with overflowing pride. Being her big brother was certainly something meaningful, but she just didn’t need him that much. Maybe somepony new would help give him purpose. Of course, just because he’d accepted didn’t mean he could pop right over and meet her. He was no unicorn, and he wouldn’t have left Violet’s little ball for anything. She was already heartbroken that Arcane had left abruptly, he wasn’t about to make things significantly worse. But when the evening was over—when she’d introduced him to her new friends, and explained what they’d be doing to keep Wintercrest safe, she was still only seven years old. She had the energy for ice cream, but then it was back to the castle, and bed. Only when he was sure she was asleep did he finally hurry down to the castle gates, where the unicorn in a fancy dress still stood in the gloom, her shapely form casting strange shadows in the rolling fog.  He squeezed past the motionless guards, emerging from below the portculus. “We’re still on?” he asked, adjusting his tie. He hadn’t taken off the tux for exactly this reason. Maybe if he was lucky, Aurora would stick around for a bit. “Didn’t find someone else to help while I was busy? Who doesn’t have a sister to care for, maybe…” “Oh, no.” Aurora gestured, and something pulled out of the fog behind her. A carriage, complete with a pair of stallions in black uniforms to pull it. It looked a little like the one Arcane rode around the town, though it was considerably sturdier. Wood that thick could probably take a bullet. “I don’t really understand why Celestia does what she does, but I’d guess that’s part of why she sent me here. That kind of gentleness is exactly what Plum Blossom needs. To be honest, I don’t have the patience.”  Emmet led the way across the drawbridge and under the massive metal portculus. “Welcome to Wintercrest Castle,” he called. His silly little assistant job wasn’t much, but he could still take it seriously. He walked the carriage the courtyard, and found Aurora waiting beside it by the time it came to a stop. “I assume she’s in there?” he asked. She nodded, speaking very quietly. “Plum Blossom was no friend of Equestria’s. But she knows your boss, she knows Arcane is a bit of a criminal.” She leaned in close, her breath hot on Emmet’s ear as she whispered. “I think she had some weird deal with Celestia, because she can barely even be a pony.” Then she straightened, tossing Emmet a little metal key. “I promised her she wouldn’t have to see me again, so this one’s on you. Do whatever you think is necessary, just make sure your boss gets her message. After that…” She shrugged her shoulders. “Good luck?” Her horn flashed, and when the light faded it had taken her with it. Emmet glanced curiously towards the front of the carriage, but wasn’t even a little surprised to see that the ponies pulling it were gone too. Thanks for being so polite.  Emmet tossed the key up and down in his grip, feeling the faint gold filigree against the soft frog of his hoof. The “Outer Realm” might be slowly transforming into a horrific nightmare, but maybe there was something he could do to help, in a way that was more real than turning on the lights and doing a few google searches for Ashton. The key turned, and the lock clicked. He knocked once on the side of the carriage. “Excuse me? Is there a Plum Blossom in here?” The only answer he got was a faint squeak—maybe a word, or maybe just a moan of discomfort at a hiding place finally disturbed. “I don’t have to come in,” he said. “You can stay here as long as you want. But… I bet you’ve been traveling a long time. Maybe you’re hungry? Maybe you want a hot shower, or somewhere more comfortable to sleep?” He waited for a response, tucking the key away in his pocket. At least he was dressed for a first impression. Assuming she wants anything to do with me. “I…” The voice inside was high, higher than Arcane’s and considerably less confident. “Have to deliver first,” she said. “Otherwise… died for nothing.” “You’re trying to get your message to Arcane Word, aren’t you?” “Yes!” Something moved inside the carriage, and it rocked slightly to one side. “Do you know where to find her?” “I’m her steward,” he said. “I don’t know when she’ll return to Equestria, but I can make sure that she gets the message. It’s… the biggest part of what I do.” The door clicked, and swung outward a few inches. There in the gloom was a face, unlike anypony he’d seen up close before. Her eyes were slits, her ears oversized with little tufts of fur on the ends. She was shorter than he was by a full head, though she had a similar pegasus pony’s build otherwise. Even from his narrow view into the room, he could see her wings, a thin skin membrane instead of the familiar feathers. Almost as strange as her sharp teeth and eyes that glowed in the dark was how she was dressed. Plum had hired a tailor to transform each and every article of clothing from a human outfit into its pony equivalent, or at least that was how she looked. Tight elastic leggings, a strange net-shirt with transparent layers of plastic on top, and weird boots with too many buckles.  You’re not from America, are you? It wasn’t just her clothes—her mane was simple black, but had several different overlapping layers of dye, like she changed it every few weeks. Sure enough, when she spoke there was a slight accent. Emmet’s parents would’ve recognized which kind, but Emmet himself didn’t know. “Really? Not lying?” He stepped to the side, spreading his wings wide and gesturing to the keep just behind him. “You can go inside and see for yourself if you like. Or just wait around until the Lady comes back, and deliver the message personally. The Outer Realm can be pretty slow, though. We might be here a while if we just sit around to wait.” She took another step forward, catching one of her hooves on the lip of the carriage and tumbling headfirst towards him. A unicorn might’ve been able to use their magic to catch her delicately—Emmet had to do it with his wings. But she was a flying pony, and that meant she didn’t weigh much. He caught her gently, settling her down on the ground in front of him.  “You’ll do,” she said, huge ears flat to her head with obvious embarrassment. But she didn’t flee back into the carriage, or even try to hide behind her wings the way Violet sometimes did if she was feeling particularly shy about something. “But can we… talk inside? I’ve been in there… too long. Getting cramps.” “Sure.” He didn’t take her to the great hall, though it wasn’t nearly as gigantic as some of the castles Emmet had seen. Plum walked with a nervous, skittering gait, flopping from her right legs to her left as though she were still trying to control a human body. Her wings didn’t seem to know what they were doing either. When they reached the kitchen doorway, they opened entirely of their own accord, and she whimpered, smacking painfully into the wall and having to carefully close one with a foreleg to fit through. “It’s a little weird,” Emmet said, opening one of his own. “I could probably talk you through it if you want. The wing stuff. When I was learning how to fly, they walked us through some great exercises.” “Nothing,” she declared, stumbling to a stop beside the counter. The kitchen was even bigger than the one in his old human house, large enough for the three pony crew who showed up whenever Arcane Word was in residence. They weren’t here now of course, though they kept the place stocked at all times just in case. Emmet pulled out a chair near the counter, then strode around into the oversized root cellar and scanned it for something simple. Chicken soup? There were cans, but nothing already made. In the end, all he could do was pick up an assortment of fruits, settling them on a plate and pushing it across the counter towards Plum. “I’ll call the chef for tomorrow. But it’s really late, it wouldn’t be polite to bring him here now.” Plum seemed determined to perch on the edge of the seat, sitting with her back straight as though she was still meant to do that. It didn’t look comfortable. She pretended not to be paying any attention to the plate, but her eyes kept darting towards an oblong red-orange fruit that Emmet couldn’t name off the top of his head. That one was for smoothies, right? “Can I?” He reached into a nearby drawer, removing a knife and fork and settling them next to the fruit. “Of course. I’ll have something better tomorrow.” Her eyes seemed to sink as they settled on the knife, which she promptly ignored. She gripped onto the fruit with a pair of clumsy hooves, pulling it towards her. She leaned down and bit, skin and all, wrinkling her nose as she spat out a piece. “Here…” Emmet snatched it back, slicing the yellowish fruit underneath straight down the middle. “I’ve had a lot of practice at this working little buttons and levers and stuff.” He skinned it in a few seconds, pushing back the large chunks of fruit. “Easier to eat without… the mess.” The mare deflated still further, looking away from the meal. “You said the pony Arcane Word is not here. How long do I have to wait?” He shrugged. “Time is… kinda weird in Equestria. Sometimes it feels like we’re going at the same pace, but lots of times we don’t. She might be a few minutes away, or a few weeks.” “Oh.” She straightened, finally meeting his eyes. “Were you… she is human. Are you?” “I was.” He pulled over another chair, hopping up. He didn’t pull it quite as close to her, not the way he did when he was sitting with Arcane. Plum Blossom didn’t have half the natural magnetism that Arcane did, her hair was mousy, and she lacked any of the exaggerated hips and… other things. “I emigrated a few months ago. Now I’m a pony full time.” But there was something comfortable about her, even so. Her coat was such a calming shade of purple, and her single flower of a cutie mark sewn over her leggings implied none of the magical insanity that living with Arcane brought.  “You… wanted to come here,” she said, one wing opening again. She glared at it, and it twitched several more times before finally drifting closed. “Why would you want to do that? I… didn’t get to choose. Here or dead, here is better.” “My sister was the same way,” he said. “She was sick, and Celestia had a cure.” He rose suddenly, making his way over to the fridge. “Are you thirsty?” He wasn’t even a little surprised to hear the sound of desperate chewing behind him, or see that several more chunks of fruit were missing by the time he turned back around. Most of the beverage selection was wasted with the stupid Equestrian version of Earth sodas, something that Ashton couldn’t get enough of but Emmet wouldn’t touch. But there was fresh limeade he’d made with Violet the day before, that was probably still good. “Sure,” she said. “Would be… yeah. Good.” He poured two glasses, taking it as slow as he could. By the time he made his way back, the nameless fruit was completely gone. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, sipping at his glass. “How you came here?” She shook her head, withdrawing back into her chair. The movement nearly knocked her out of it completely, but she gripped onto the side with both forelegs, and managed to keep herself straight. “I just want to deliver my message. Then I can… die with honor.” He would’ve laughed, if she hadn’t been so deadly serious when she said it. “Okay, shoot.” He reached into a pocket, withdrawing the notebook he usually used whenever he was taking notes for Arcane. “I’m listening.” The bat reached back behind her ear, removing a sliver of dark crystal, and holding it close to her chest. “This is from Min-seo. I think her name is Cold Iron here in this… fantasy.  She was once very close to Arcane, close enough that she believes she will send help if asked.” “What kind of help does she need?” Emmet asked. “I think I…” He did know one person who might have that name. Wasn’t Cold Iron the other hacker Ashton had wanted to meet at the convention? And didn’t she steal his work somehow? Plum shook her head vigorously. “I can’t even read the message myself. It’s encrypted, in ways that Arcane should be able to open. Can you give it to her?” “Yes,” Emmet said, extending a hoof for the sliver. “Swear!” she exclaimed, so loud that Emmet nearly fell out of his chair with surprise. “Swear you’ll give that to no other pony. No one else will see, not even Celestia!” “Sure,” he said. Though I don’t think you need to show it to Celestia. She already knows everything on there because you brought it. But Aurora had said something about problems with authority. Pointing out a fact like that didn’t seem like it would help this poor pony’s sanity. “I swear.” But what can I do? Emmet ran through everything in the castle. There were many luxuries, but this pony was so desperate she was content to tear into fruit like an animal. “You look like an honest pony.” She passed him the bit of crystal, letting go only reluctantly. “I trust you with lives, whoever you are. You must get that to the hacker.” “I will,” he promised. “And my name’s Domino. Sorry, I… should’ve mentioned that earlier.” “Well. My task is done.” She sat back in her chair, closing her eyes. “I’m ready to die now, Celestia.” Nothing happened. Emmet waited a few more seconds, withdrawing a little from her. As though her strange prayer might actually be answered. Of course it wasn’t, and after a few more moments he got up, shaking out his wings.  “I don’t think Equestria works like that. But what we do have is some comfortable beds. You look like you could use one.”