The apartment door pops open and we stumble in, immediately collapsing on the bed of my roommate who lives in the main room.
“I didn’t know that your car could take that kind of abuse.” Julien says in an air of disbelief.
“I’ll have to start checking google maps on satellite view each day to see if they live on the side of a mountain.” I groan.
We had managed to get the car stuck on our last call, walking the rest of the way to the customer’s house and getting help from his truck to pull the car out after we were finished. Besides the hike through the woods, which I didn’t mind, and learning that cats really really like me, the rest of the day had been fairly uneventful. Two more computers fixed, two more happy customers. That point in my thought is about when Dakota stops halfway down the steps and mutters; “Ponies...” before stalking back upstairs. I realize that Julien and I are sprawled out on a bed and look like quite a mess. We both burst into laughter and get up.
“Hey, I’ve got a little extra money, want to get some food?” He finally asks.
I nod, and we go upstairs to my room (going up stairs is much easier than hovering down them) to close out my calls on my computer and let Julien get dressed in less work-and-hiking-apparently clothes. While I am waiting I pull open a few articles on the Lauren Faust situation. Apparently she has largely refused to become a scientific experiment, and the world seems to mostly respect this. If I was dealing with a creature that may be capable of moving the damn sun, I wouldn't piss her off either. Then I get into thinking, what if Celestia actually rotated the Earth? It would certainly be easier, with our limited perspective it would look the same. It was also a possibility that didn't involve the sun smashing through orbits like some sort of cosmic baby. I have been thinking on it for a while before Julien interrupts my thoughts.
“I don’t think that face is supposed to get that serious. You’re going to break it.” He quips.
I chuckle and shut down my computer, before spotting my baby blue baseball cap I always wear to keep my hair out of my eyes. Oddly enough, even though my hair is just as long in this body, I have yet for it to get in my freakishly large eyes. But I really do love this baseball cap. So I use my hooves to jam it down on top of my gently curled pink mane, but it smashes my ears. I enlist Juliens help and shortly the hat has two holes in it just the right size, and I have my good old hat on. Yay for self identity. So, pastel pink and sunglass-wearing, we make the arduous 5 minute journey to Denny’s. The only place that has booths large enough for me to sit in, I imagine. The looks we get are impressive, and despite knowing me fairly well the serving staff has a moment where they wonder if I count as an animal, and thus cannot come in, but I think the hat and glasses convince them. Either that or my sniffles and whimpers. I am really not on an even emotional keel today, am I? We are seated and a server I recognize takes our orders.
“So... what happened?” He finally asks.
“I just woke up like this. Minus the accessories of course.” I explain, resting my head on my forelegs on the table.
“Well, I hope everything works out for you, we don’t care if you come back as a vampire, we will still serve you.” He jokes.
I wonder for a moment if being a vampire would be easier. I just wouldn't talk and wear lots of black. Wow, apparently my “deal with being a vampire” strategy is the same as my everyday life. That's a depressing thought.
“What are you thinking about?” Julien chimes in.
The waiter has long left and I seem to have been staring at the table since.
“Not much.” I lie.
“Not thinking about New York?” He asks casually.
Well not until now, god dammit.
“I am, I guess.” I concede. “I’m still not sure how we would even get there.”
He points out at the car parked outside.
“Or how we would explain away a week long absence.” I continue.
“You are a pony. We can quite literally prove this.”
“Or how we could afford lodging and food all the way there.”
“I have some extra money, we can ask the Brony community for help, and we do have tents.”
He lists off these things in rapid succession, and I am left drawing a blank on other reasons why I don’t want to go.
“I... I don’t want to change back.” I finally say meekly.
“Thats pretty selfish of you.” He says, gently but still it cuts to the bone.
“Well I’m not god damned Rarity, now am I?” I growl.
“Thats not very kind either.” He points out.
I struggle to find some way that he is wrong, that this is anything but a selfish grab at an escape from my own species, letting all the others down. I can’t find one. I slump in my chair, staring at my hooves for the hundredth time today.
“You’re right.” I say. “You are completely right, I need to get over this. We... we have to go to New York.” I finally say, a small edge of determination seeping into my voice.
“Good. So I set up a Facebook account for you, called Erica Fluttershy. That's how I am hoping to get help in crossing the nation. If we wait until tomorrow before setting off, hopefully a brony in Utah, Wyoming, or Colorado will have befriended us and offered a place to stay the night.” He says as our food is delivered.
I’m in shock. “You did what? Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, in a bit of a huff.
“You weren’t willing to even go until a few minutes ago.” He says pointedly.
I can’t really argue so instead I dig into my salad.
“I will need to call in to work and we have to pack tonight.” I say, using my hooves to pinch up a piece of lettuce to nibble on as I think.
“So the journey of three thousand miles begins.” He says dramatically.
“Just eat. You don’t do the whole epic one liners bit properly, I’ll show you how its done.”
I wave my hoof in the air, pointing to the ceiling.
“And thus, my epic journey of self discovery and magic began!”
“It’s just cute when you do it. And you said almost the same thing.”
“Shush.”