It took less than a week for both you and Trixie to descend into total lowlifes, depending on the mild endorphin kick of cigarettes, alcohol and bad soap operas to survive the torment of each other's company. The most fun you've ever had with her was the time you compared your plans to murder each other. You gave Trixie a lecture on head cheese while she presented you with her 'Best of Josef Mengele' artwork. It was a rare and treasured bonding experience. But by tomorrow you'd gone back to your normal routine of singing Nirvana off-key to drown out the noise of Trixie's incessant 'tsk!'-ing.
Oh, the 'tsk'-ing... it never fucking stops with her. Now, it'd be one thing if she was being sarcastic, or tried to clean her teeth or something. You could understand that. You could apply some sort of logic to it. But no. She 'tsk!'s everywhere. Go to the bathroom. 'Tsk!'. Open the fridge door. 'Tsk!'. Take a piss. 'Tsk!'. In her fucking sleep, 'tsk!'. You swear she did it four times a minute at one point. That's when you realised, it has to be a deliberate psychological weapon designed to break you. Anyone with a vocal tic that severe would surely have sought out medical assistance. Or been turned into head cheese by now.
"Tsk!"
"Can't you suck a pacifier or something?" You snarl. "I'm trying to take a nap!" Because you couldn't very well explain to the motel manager that a magic pony needs her own room, Trixie is stuck lying on the same bed alongside you. Usually spilling cigarette ash everywhere. "I've already got enough problems without you adding to it. In case you haven't noticed, I'm d-"
"Dying." Trixie mocks, puffing smoke. "That's your excuse for everything. 'I can't make breakfast, I could die! I can't sweep the floor, what if I die?' It is frankly embarrassing how much you lean on that particular detail."
"I like living!" You protest in a high-pitched voice. "And I'm the only one that goes to work, I might add. Why can't you sweep the floor?"
"A - Trixie is an award-winning entertainer. B - Trixie is descended from a family of good stock. C - You're dying anyway, so you may as well make yourself useful."
"D - Trixie is a baby blue ass."
Trixie's horn lights up, and her wizard hat throws itself angrily against your face. "Have you even considered that Trixie might be suffering from grief, from trauma? The gruesome death of her beloved grandfather weighs so heavily on-"
"I'M dying!" You scream. "Meee! I'm about one half-inch away from having to shout at your stupid grandfather instead of you! Now, unless you want to me void my bowels in your general direction as I go, I suggest you let me cool down and go to sleep!"
Finally, there is silence.
You sigh, relaxing into your blankets, the sweet embrace of dreams drawing you in...
Peace and quiet...
"Tsk!"
"FUCK! Fuck, what is your problem?! A hiccuping Dutch gigolo would make less weird noises than you!"
The blue mare blushes slightly, showing a hint of insecurity. "That is just how Trixie sounds!" She shouts defensively. "Can't you just die already?"
"Charming."
Trixie's eyes well up with tears, the true source of her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Because that's what's going to happen! You're going to die, and the Scared and Abandoned Trixie will be trapped in this awful alien world for the rest of her miserable life, with two Discords! No, one wasn't enough! They had to make two of them! I..." The mare's voice falters as she realizes she spoke in third person. "Trixie... doesn't know what to do. Trixie does not care to be caught by evil hyoomans. Trixie doesn't know how this world works!"
"Oh, cry me a river." You snap back petulantly. "I'm still gonna be dead. You'll probably get a career in some freak circus. But where will I be? Gone! Extinct! Blotted out!"
"What about Eris?"
You frown, not understanding. "What about her?"
"You said she was you."
"Oh!" You wave your hand dismissively. "It's complicated. She grew up learning from my memories. But she forged her own identity."
Trixie scoffs. "She still has your memories, Anon. She's you. She only established her own identity because yours was taken. But your every thought will live on in her. Which means you don't even die properly! When Trixie is bones in the earth of this... what is this place called again?"
"Earth?"
"Stupid name... when Trixie is dead here, your better self will still be running around."
You glare at her. "So what you're getting at is..."
"TRIXIE DESERVES ALL THE SYMPATHY!"
You wander aimlessly through the carpeted corridors of the motel, your only aim to enjoy some alone time. Despite being back on Earth, you feel a curious lack of enthusiasm. You try to remember your old life here, your friends and family, but there is a fuzziness there in your memory. Are your parents alive or dead? Does anyone miss you? You are not quite sure. Oh, it is somewhere in your brain, you are sure of that. But nothing sharpens into crystal clarity until you wake up in the Everfree Forest for the first time.
You stop at a mirror. Instead of your reflection, there is the image of Eris, matching your movement to a tee. You try to touch her face. Eris' talons in the mirror try to touch yours.
"Daddy, are you going to die?" Eris asks quietly. The piercing red eyes stare into your grey ones.
You grin bravely into the mirror. "Who, me? No. I'm forever."
"I hoped mom would find us in our dreams. She could help us."
"Hard to dream about a world you've never been to."
Her mirror image is replaced by your own. In the real world, Eris stands in your body, wearing your suit. "You should rest." She says. "I'll look after the body."
"Make sure it's back by nine." You insist in the mirror. Eris gives you a thumbs up and walks out of the building.
Sounds! Noises! Smells! And for once, Eris had full control of all faculties. She mingled with the crowd, wandering through the simple pleasures of existence that she could never fully appreciate in her tiny cul-de-sac of Anon's psyche. The inviting scent of a good barbecue, the lovely clouds high up in the sky, a satisfying sneeze. It felt good to live. Her mood soured when she remembered that Anon was likely to wither away and die any day now, leaving her permanently in control of the body.
Eris ran her fingers over Anon's face. At the very start, she couldn't imagine having any other face. Now it felt alien to her. But also more important somehow. Eris wasn't oblivious to Anon's flaws. She knew he was an unimportant man who had accomplished nothing of significance in either world. She knew he was prideful, temperamental and even intentionally unpleasant at times. She knew that he was fascinated by spiritual decay, that it was the great weakness the Alicorn Amulet fed upon. Anon would become corrupt just to see what it was like, because he was bored and detached from himself.
But despite all that, there were ponies that loved him. Eris herself did. Because Anon loved them. And it was as if his love for them had created a whole new Anon, a perfect being that insisted upon himself. Somehow, life had cast the flawed Anon into the role of the perfect Anon, and he played him so well that nopony else would ever suffice. This performance - and what it meant to Eris and everypony who loved it - was infinitely more significant than the real Anon. And that was why Eris burst into tears on the street as she felt Anon's face. He could never be replaced.