Recall like that brings tears to my eyes, so for my sake, i'll stop going far back again. Too much suffering to be found there. Yet, it’s too distant to laugh at, now that I’ve seen the consequent echoes.
After my mother left me, no events of significance happened for quite some time. I was busy contemplating why she did so in the manner she did, assuming there was a reason. Any reason. I should mention that phoenix's are notorious for going through numerous existential crises throughout our self determined length of consciousness. I am no exception. We are eternally scraping against an invisible wall to find meaning at our attempt at an impartial existence. Once again, darkly, this is only satisfiable by death. I don’t doubt ponies go through them too, but its easier for them. They're forced to live in the present because they live their lives under death’s shadow. A sense we all secretly lust after. But as I mentioned, to move onto the interesting stuff, we’re going to have go forward a bit. As in, a couple hundred years. I hadn't been to any more cities during this time, most likely due to my disgust at Canterlot. Sure, I’d flown around a bit, but only now had I the courage to give ponies a second chance. It was fortunate then, that a honorable Stallion came by me at the right time.
It was a gorgeous autumn, beside an old fort falling into disrepair within the Everfree forest. Fallen leaves were scattered about the earth; their stoic mothers-fathers stood above looking down with pride upon their handsome handiwork. A distant crunch of hooves could be heard, warping the masterfully artistic pieces of gold in their wake. And I, was perched, gazing at the edifice, letting my sentimentality batter me once more. That stronghold was very good at bringing them back. Seldom does a pony wander far into the uncharted, too scared of creatures that mean no harm. On a whim, I broke my trance and casually looked down, expecting to see a squirrel or something ordinary. Instead, I found two disproportionally large blue eyes staring back at me, so startled was I, that my fall to the ground afterwards was entirely unintentional hence, making a rather loud thud. How annoying was it to be again, under a hoof. But, my curiosity was piqued; there would be no turning back. He simply said ‘hey.’ Apparently unflustered by my clumsiness, though judging by the friendly grin on his face, still amused. The Equine retained fairly luxuriant brown coat, which was surprising, considering he was in the middle of nowhere.
‘I’m Charlie.’
I distractedly played the name around in my head for a bit, ‘Charrrrlieeeeeee, charLIIee CHARliiee....’ He was fairly slender for an Earth pony. I made no movement, unsure if he’d retain belief in my understanding if I did. Though, his moderately sombre tone was well worth noting.
‘You have a name right?’ He asked, raising an eyebrow.
Of course I had a name. I had many. Changed in vain efforts to forget. No harm in being granted one more meaningful than the last. I tried shuffling to his right, in hopes I might eye his cutie mark, but he shifted his own mass in sync, rather deliberately, I might add.
‘Well, whatever your name is, would you care to join me? I’ll tell you my tale along the way if you want.’
His congenial grin beamed even wider, apparently ecstatic at the chance of companionship, even if it was to be shared with a boring bird like me. In response, I gave a bellowing, primeval squawk, making him jump in quite an endearing way; his pupils inflating to about twice their normal size. At last I caught sight of his cutie mark: it was a magnifying glass. I considered him a relative equal now; I hope he saw it that way too. On his tangent, he failed to notice the obtrusive ruins a few wing lengths away, not that I minded, just, noticed.
When his frame ceased to shake with loveable mirth, I was invited onto his back, so long as I didn’t rip his hide to shreds. I hesitantly agreed. We gaily trotted on for what remained of the day without speech: rare to find anypony who is content with silence. The sole barring being a cheeky, playful nibble on his ear every so often. That was harshly reprimanded by him with a large amount of volume: ‘Oi!’ So much so, it successfully scared off all the other forest's inhabitants, within a substantial radius.
Celestia raised an unusually starless night that night. Just as my dear four-legged friend wisely decided to set up camp, taking comfort in his charitable guardian angel. He knew she would protect him, if need be. The fire kindled, I was told a bit about him. Even though he no longer bothered to crane so as to visually observe my reactions. Maybe the minute tightening and waning of the tender grip of talons were communicative enough for his purposes.
Sighing, as bright flames flickered off his visage and, those eyes. ‘I’ll start off with why I’m here, if you're so inclined.’ My gentle shimmying up his spine told him I was so inclined. ‘I got, uh, well...’ I'd guess, the concept of speaking to someone who could understand but did not speak back was unnatural to him: someone who had no desire of revealing his truths to others. Someone who just wanted to listen.
‘I worked, as a private detective up in Yanhoover,’ (Yanhoover was a long, long, way away, up in the north) ’which was fine, when I wasn’t starved of customers. But, I always was starved for bits, bits, bits... Difficult for a simple earth pony like me to find an intellectual’s job, but I did, so, that was great.’
Roaming the wilds was really intellectual.
‘Basically, I got chewed out by debt sharks.’ He choked a little. Whether an effort to keep tears down, or an act of defiance, I know not. ‘And, as you can see, I fled to the only place outside of their stranglehold. And, er, that’s about it... I met you as well, I guess.’ He still held many a tale he wasn’t prepared to tell, yet. But I could spare a couple of years off an eternity, for somepony as fascinating as he. Better than entrapping oneself in a spiral of memories I’d think. Clearly,there was more to it, much more. But that’s all I was going to get for now. Sleep descended.
With somewhat of an early start, we headed out to, somewhere. He’d convinced himself I was guiding, somehow leading him on a journey of enlightenment. But the only guidance I provided was ensuring he didn't get “gobbled up” by a random dragon. Maybe, I did direct him, just a little. Coincidentally, we stumbled onto those ruins, the ones he failed to notice in spectacular fashion the first time, I mean. It was largely intact compared to the state it’s in now, so he got a fairly extensive tour of the place. Including passing by five empty pedestals. I was unable to communicate the majority of the fortress' extensive history, although the speculative inferences he made were remarkably close to the truth. Maybe it’s a trait of detectives or something. But at best, I knew he’d die knowing a tiny bit more than the ponies around him; I was the only one who’d ever know, tragically. That’s pretty bitter, actually.
Many days trekking later, we reached Dodge city. Receiving a mass of confused looks from the locals. I don’t think they understood the concept of a phoenix willingly accompanying a pony. After all, the relationship between our species remained tenuous. Celestia had appeared to finally come out of her tantrum, as food and water were reasonably stocked. Existence of plans to build a railway line were also in place, connecting Dodge to the capital. My attitude towards the princess was far harsher now. I became disgusted by my own respect for her when this all started. She was most definitely going to get a piece of my mind.
However, I’d choose Dodge over Canterlot any day, monarch aside. Most ponies only knew of the “events” only through aging tomes, for word of mouth was no longer a viable medium to sustain the complexities of the fable. The vast majority of which were written or strictly censored by you know who.
Charlie was able to handle himself well for having not talked to anypony for so long. Though he offered to buy me a dinky little bird-house with the few bits that he had, the silly thing. After he’d organised basic accommodation for us, we headed on over to a cronky old bar, coming with dodgy hinges and all. To my dismay, my partner hastily lushed up, before I could convince him of his equivocal behavior. He’d have probably initiated some dreadful bar-fight, if I didn’t constantly scratch at his hide, reminding his inhibitions to stay awake. In his intoxication, Charlie proceeded to inform all the disinterested drinkers within earshot on some dramatic case he’d once reviewed, despite its closure. Supposedly concerning an attempted murder of an innocent mare named Jennifer; for various slurred reasons, the assailant was never found. More Inexplicable, was the presence of a large number of the assailant’s wings as well as, smaller, crimson wings that could not belong to a pony, scattered indiscriminately over the entire scene. Rumour had it, that the assailant had been involved in some kind of highly organised crime syndicate, but details beyond that were shady. He explained he looked at it merely out of curiosity, as there was no hope of solving the crime committed over a hundred years ago. Notoriously known as the ‘Canterlot Killing’ (paradoxical, in view of the lack of killing) within all of law enforcement. Such dramatisation! And, upon that particular pause in the narrative, we were promptly removed from the premises. We’d lasted awhile, at least, but Charlie wasn’t too happy about it.
I forcefully steered the drunkard back to the hotel he’d booked a room in a few hours ago, it was lucky that he didn’t need support, else I’d have to bother attracting the attention of an innocent bystander. Poor bystander. Once we got there, the next challenge would be to get his room key (he hadn't picked it up yet) from the dangerously pretty female, grey coated unicorned receptionist, as well as ideally, avoiding the necessity of calling security. The exchange went something along the lines of:
‘Hello Mr Charlie, how can-’
‘I needshh... my, room, keyshhhes!’
The receptionist scowled, realising the source of the sudden, repugnant smell of alcohol, before opening a book. Wisely not bothering to ask him what room he’d booked.
‘Heysh,’ he hiccuped, losing his balance; slamming the entirety of his weight on the desk that stood between them. ‘
You free tonightshh?’
She uttered a flat ‘No,’ without looking up, continuing to scan the registries for the room number. I was enjoying the novelty of the social exchanges, even if it was a little embarrassing, as of then. ‘Yeshh you are!’ My hopelessly pained intimate yelled, unable to relinquish the newly acquired marefriend. He began to stagger around the front desk, trying to figure out how he could surmount the obstacle, the mighty “desk”. I tried to rein him back, worried this would turn into more than a bit of denouncable tomfoolery. Unbeknown to me, it already had. The few other ponies that were in the small lobby with us deviated from their idle positions, taking more than a little notice his disorderly conduct and the phoenix restraining him. Quite the sight. I frustratedly questioned why the unicorn was taking so long to look up a simple one night booking, holding on. I couldn’t afford to let go, less his chances of getting arrested would be more than thrice fold what they were already. As the intoxicated pony came closer to the conclusion of simply climbing over the desk, I stepped things up a notch. A notch too far. I glanced down to check he was alright. He wasn’t; no wonder he was thrashing about so much. My grip released instantaneously. By my ashes, what I saw....
I stared upon multiple, dark, streaks running down him, disturbingly akin to the colour of these two wings. They zealously trickled out of several deep gashes I’d inflicted on both sides of his torso, pooling into a unified, gory puddle. As the wooden floor became stained with the colour of my comrades insides, I could only look on, aghast at what I'd done. It seeped in, between the small crevices on the ground, marking a river of blood for all to witness. The cacophony of his screams amounted to an absolutely just animosity, toward, me. His coat turned red. They turned red. Everything turned red. Only those two, big, bright blue circles, whose glance I caught moments before closing, retained their own colour, that colour, I loved so much. Those eyes granted me a hint of recognition within the storm of pain, asking, ‘Why?’
Oh Charlie, I’m so sorry...