//------------------------------//
// H&D 
// Story: Book 1 - The Behemoth came to Canterlot 
// by Equimorto 
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Pinkie sat on a bench in the dark and cold, looking at the empty street in front of her. She'd purposefully picked the bench near the broken street lamp so she'd be in the darkest spot possible, and she was rather happy that the sky was cloudy and the Moon and stars couldn't shine their lights on her. As happy as she allowed herself to be, at least. She'd been told she was trying too hard to adhere to the aesthetic and that it wasn't really needed, but she wasn't the kind of girl who did things halfway, or even the kind that belived there was such a thing as going too far.
It was late enough to be considered early, and she was entering that strange state of perceived clarity where the mind accepts sleep isn't coming and starts diverting energy solely on keeping a person awake and aware, all else shutting down. Nixed social inhibitions, for as little of those as Pinkie could have in the first place, an altered perception of time, the rationale of judgement snuffed out. The cold of the night against a body clothed for the days of a different season helped fight off any momentary impulses to pass out, and her wake marched on almost by inertia.
It was almost pleasant, in a somewhat masochistic vein. And also ludicrously punk if looked at from a certain angle. It was rebellion against her body itself and its natural impulses, after all. Not that that was the aesthetic she was going for, she was in it more for the suffering of the experience than the bragging rights of having gone through it. But she was starting to like the suffering, in a way.
Or maybe she was just too tired, and not thinking straight. That was quite possible too. She wondered if she would have been at any real risk of dying if she passed out there, or if she was being protected. She wondered just how much she was being protected if that was the case. She almost considered testing it too. Then she simply shook herself, stood up, and began to walk down the sidewalk back towards the centre of town. 
She could probably camp outside a shady bar until they opened, walk in alongside the employees and order black coffee with lemon and no sugar. Or maybe she'd stare at a friend's house from across the street for a few hours, and leave just in time for them to only catch a glimpse of her from their windows and later assume it was just their imagination and half sleeping mind. They both sounded like nice enough plans to her, at that point.