//------------------------------// // Scene II: (Not) Of her own design. (V 2.0) // Story: Incursion // by Maromar //------------------------------// The snow sheet held Teddy's weight for a moment, then groaned out in a straining kind of crunch before devouring his ankles, double sock layers and all. As far as Winter nights in the Midwest went, it could have been worse. Yesterday's storm was a testament to that. Porch lights glinted through fledgling icicles on the otherwise bare trees nearby. Wind trails bit at his ears on their way to carry more mass for the vast expanse of white on the ground. A few errant flecks found their way to Teddy's glasses. Despite his poor chattering teeth, the scene was almost calming, serene even. He expelled a puff of frost-touched air. Almost. Steady footsteps from the driver's side of the car prompted a glance backwards. “Two, four, four... right, Marshal?” Teddy asked. He squinted as he scanned through the much too small house numbers around the cul-du-sac. “Yup, it's to your left.” a rather tall man in a leather coat said as he approached Teddy's side. “Cold?” “Not too cold.” Came Teddy's reply before he cut across the center driveway at Marshal's direction. Unease squirmed its way into his stomach. This would be the first time spending the night over a peer's house. Said peer being a girl whose guardians his parents had only spoken to over the phone once made the situation worse. Hours worth of news-casted kidnapping cases screamed at him to ask Marshal if they could call the entire affair off. But then where would he go? Surely not back home, a missed anniversary, rose petals leading up to the master bedroom, and the obscure sight of Father clad in an apron smeared with bits of cake batter assured him of that. Besides, turning around would mean interfering with Marshall's work. With a sigh of resignation, he dug his chin into the collar of his coat to keep the breeze from eating his face. Marshal stopped and lifted an arm. “Give me your hands,” he said. “Here?” he cupped them together inches under Marshal’s own. Given a moment's delay, a faded bell shape appeared on the man's forearm amid a soft yellow glow. It dissipated, revealing two thin discs of hardlight in the previously the empty space in Teddy's palms. “Put those under your gloves.” He did so; they were soft and gave a mite when he curled his fingers into them. Warmth spread up to his wrists in heartbeat-like pulses. Teddy frowned, “You’re not supposed to use programs on Earth,” he whispered. “And You're not supposed to wear gardening gloves when it's minus six outside. I'm not going to let you get frost-nip. Your Ma would wring my neck.” Teddy considered another complaint, but the next pulse muffled it. “Thank you.” He walked faster to keep up with Marshal's long strides. A short stretch of ground was soon all that separated them and their destination; the modest brick house had a small set of stairs leading up to its entrance. Or rather, a slope of snow and ice that used to be a set of stairs. Walking in Marshal’s boot prints, he managed to make it to the door without slipping. “How well do you know these people?” The man dismissed the hardlight discs with a wave of his hand, leaving an empty feeling in Teddy's gloves. He flashed a smile. “You don't need to worry, my mentor was Samantha's pa, I went to school with Catherine, and I held Grace when she was a baby. They're all sweet, wouldn't hurt a fly between them.” Teddy let out a breath and mentally berated himself for being so silly, Marshal would never put him in harm’s way. Mother and Father trusted the man enough to mentor him, acting as a chaperon was not so far of a stretch. There were no social obligations to fulfill either. The girl just wanted to get her dreamscape qualified, and Teddy just wanted to take notes to help him with his own examination. Marshal gave the door three swift knocks. Silence passed through the air. Teddy shifted his weight on one foot, and then the other. He was about to ask Marshal if he was certain that they had the right address, when a thump jarred him out of the thought. The faintest hint of giggling waxed until it broke into a cackle of slasher film caliber. “Stop! Stop, I'll kill you, I swear!” A voice shouted between gasping breaths. “Marshal, may I please go back to the ca-” Too late. The door swung open, and Teddy braced, fully expecting a clown-faced hag with a knife. Instead, he looked up at a woman with blonde hair that reached just past her shoulders, she appeared to be around Marshal's age. A little ways past her, a freckle struck red-head was sprawled out in a rather uncomfortable looking stomach-down position on a stairwell leading up to the main floor. A smaller girl who bore the same hair color as the women at the door clung to her back with both hands around her waist. Redhead flailed her limbs about in a futile effort to free herself. Teddy took that moment to be thankful that he was an only child; he had never been subjugated to the tickle-torture. “The old farts at Central aren’t letting you rest, are they, Marshal?” The woman said, seemingly unaware of Redhead's cries for help behind her. She gave the man a brisk hug. "This is supposed to be my day off, actually,” Marshal replied. “But Sam's name came up and I had a favor to cash in. The guy that had tonight's shift caught a mysterious 'stomach bug'.” The woman smiled. “Well, you can tell Mr. Bug that I appreciate his timing.” She stepped past Marshal, offering Teddy her hand. “Catherine Harris, Marshal's talked a bunch about you, drone racing is pretty neat, you gotta give me an autograph when you go pro.” Teddy's cheeks flushed as he let go of Catherine's hand. He stammered, “Thank you, but I'm nowhere near good enough to be a professional.” A gentle pat on the head sent a few specks of snow to the floor. It was odd, having a stranger just reach out and casually touch him like that. “Not now you aren’t, but give it time, I've got a good eye for these things.” She clasped her hands together. “Anywho, why don't you kick the stuff off your shoes and come on in? It's much more comfortable in the living room.” She spoke the truth. A U-shaped array of couches greeted him around a brick fireplace which crackled away at a log that almost seemed too big to hold. A wall mounted television displayed a praying mantis chomping away at a rather unfortunate butterfly. Placed under it was a glass braced cabinet stocked full of DVDs and the odd VCR tape; the overall impression was that of a man cave, with only him and Marshal to provide the “man” part. “Hold tight, Grace and I made something you guys might like.” Catherine stepped into a wide entryway to the right that gave way to a tiled floor, leaving everyone else to settle down. Out of habit, Teddy chose the seat on the far end, content with looking at anything but the people in the room. A nearby plop and a pair of blue eyes peering up at him dashed all hopes of ending the night in an asocial manner. “So, you see ghosts and stuff too?” Teddy nodded . “Uh... yes, I'm a dreamwalker. ” Grace leaned forward. “Cool! What does your drive look like?” “It's a spyglass” The girl gave a short hum. “Mine is gonna be something awesome, like a comet! Or a dragon!” Grace spread her arms wide and 'roared' at him. Despite himself Teddy smiled, “You don't get to choose what it looks like. It settles after you develop your schema.” A drive was in and of itself, thought to be a reflection of its wielders schema, one’s inner world forged from their thoughts and sentiments Tilting her head to the side Grace asked, “Didn't Flounder Darius shape his own?” “Founder Darius.” Teddy lifted a finger. “And you're right, but he was a special case.” “Then I'll be a special case too.” Before he could come up with a reply, Catherine returned, bearing a tray with five steaming mugs, she set it down on the table before taking a seat next to Samantha. Teddy leaned forward to inspect it. Hot chocolate. Hot chocolate with a layer of whipped cream on the top that was in turn topped by a small block of milk chocolate. “Thank you,” Teddy said, taking a mug with both hands, he sipped; “tastes like melted smiles” would be the best way he could describe it. It was like a candy bar in liquid form, but sweeter, and the taste lingered pleasantly inside his mouth even after swallowing. He took another sip, then another, consuming greater quantities with each pass. It was gone much too quickly. “Was it that good?” Teddy looked up to see everyone else staring at him. Samantha made a wiping motion across the top of her lips, prompting Teddy to mimic it, shaving off his newly acquired whipped cream mustache. The first night without supervision, and he was already being uncouth. “Yes. I mean sorry? I’ve never had anything like this.” Catherine held a hand over her mouth, partially concealing a smile. “I can make you another if you want.” Within an hour and a half, the fire died down to a few stubborn embers. Catherine doled out covers for everyone, laying Grace's over her, the girl had fallen asleep on her side shortly after finishing her treat. Light snoring accompanied the steady rise and fall of her stomach. “Alright then Samantha, whenever you're ready.” Marshal whispered. She nodded, and then went limp, slumping backwards with a muffled thump. Her sister and Marshal following suit. Teddy was rather envious of them, he still couldn't perform an astral-projection that quickly without the aid of sleep paralysis. The boy closed his eyes. 'Don't force it,' he recalled Father's calm metered voice. 'If you try to just yank your soul out, your body's only going to be more stubborn about keeping it in. Busy it with some other impossible thing, imagine throwing yourself at the ground. And miss.' Minutes passed. Eventually, the familiar pins and needles sensation rose to greet his chest, nothingness embraced him. And then there was a night’s sky that held too much light to be natural. Crickets and a solitary owl put up a screen of noise around him. He didn't complete the astral projection, someone must have pulled him out. A thank you would be in order if jump vertigo was not an unpleasant affair of swirling vision and that blasted numbness enveloping his head. He reached leftwards with blinking eyes, steadying himself on what felt like rock braced by a layer of damp moss. His left leg stung, as if something with hands much larger than any living thing had a right to posses recently released a harsh grip on his thigh. The world soon slowed its spinning enough for him to keep his eyes open. He stood upon a spiraling span of ground that was cut out from a sizable rock almost worthy to be called a mountain. It overlooked a wider, forested region to his right. The further he scanned, the more dense the trees grew until their formations went from sparse pockets to a sea of deep green that held much taller specimens with unnaturally curved trunks. Looking at that certain area filled him with a sensation of unease. Opposite of it was a collection of lamp lights amidst houses of many shapes and sizes, some topped with hay, the rest bearing tiled roofs; it looked much like a town caught between a medieval and industrial era. Teddy elected to bring his gaze back to the immediate vicinity, he wriggled a loose pebble from between his toes, it left a throbbing pain behind. 'Wait.’ Teddy blinked ‘Sight, sound, touch, smell and...' Glancing around himself to ensure that no one was looking, Teddy licked his wrist. He spotted Samantha leaning against another section of the rock. Now that they were separated from the physical world, Teddy could see that she wore her drive on her right arm, it bore the likeness of three jagged strands of lightning that converged at a point just above her wrist. Teddy nearly pounced on her as he grabbed her hand, shaking it vigorously. “You're a genius! How did you make a dreamscape that looks so life-like, and with all five senses nonetheless?” The girl moved her lips, but did not smile, or say anything loud enough to hear. “Hm?” She brushed a pile of sand off of a dimple in the rock-wall, her fingers twitched a bit, a hiccup interrupted her breath. Her voice made uneven by lingering jump vertigo. “I didn't make any of this.” (Oo/\oO) “Miss Mare?” Final Draft propped the quilt around her shoulders upwards so she could grab it with her teeth. The constant scratch scratch scratching of her employer's blue quill went on without the slightest grunt of acknowledgment or flick of an ear. Slouched over her desk, Mayor Mare was an undertaker, preparing yet another body for the local paperwork mass grave. No less than eight drained coffee mugs stood off to the side in ordered rows of four, exuding the faintest scent of what they once held. The hayburger Final Draft brought for her hours ago, however, remained untouched. Just when inquiries about the “Discord issue” tapered off a mite, that Canterlot filly's dragon had to take a foray into puberty, or 'greed growth' as they called it. The resulting destruction buried Ponyville’s paper-pushers in a literal metric ton of dead trees. It was a shame too, before Spike stamped a hole into her uncle’s house, she thought him to be rather adorable. The novelty of living close to a baby dragon, like that of comfy seating in her workplace, had long since worn off. The addition of a microwave, bedrolls, and one of those ingenious new massage chairs kept death by stress at bay, but only just. For an entire week, the office lights came on during breakfast and never saw rest till well past midnight. When Final draft left for the quilt, Miss Mare's eyes were half lidded, now she held her head inches from the oak-wood desk with her eyes hardly open at all. Despite her claims to the contrary, Ponyville's mightiest bureaucrat could not survive on coffee and ink. Final Draft sighed through the quilt, stepping over a pillow and then countless stacks of paper on her way to miss Mare's side. Her red rimmed eyes were fixed on an inter-town labor forum, though Final Draft doubted that she was actually into it. With a blue stained muzzle, miss Mare drew out continuous cursive “E”s that threatened to cross over into the desk. Slowly, carefully, Final Draft rose and positioned herself so that her chin just grazed the gray hair on top of miss Mare's nape, she swiped the quill out of her mouth with one hoof, pushing the paper away with another. Then she released her quilt, draping it over miss Mare's shoulders who nodded her head a few times, jaw still working in a futile effort to write. As expected, she dropped on her cheek without protest. With her duties complete for the time being, Final Draft allowed herself a glance at the glass door leading to the pegasus landing behind Miss Mare’s desk. The sight of a messenger bearing a stripped down variant of golden royal guard platemail in the middle of a banking turn almost made her bite her tongue. In a heartbeat, she scrambled to glass door. The guardspony landed with a hoof poised to knock. Final Draft stood on her hind legs and waved both front hooves while mouthing the words: 'don't you dare' to him, calling up the most menacing look she could muster. Slowly, she slid the door open, until there was enough space for her to slip out. She grasped the messenger by his shoulders, “It is three in the morning, why can't you just drop whatever you have in the mailbox?” Final Draft half hissed, half whispered. “Sensitive information ma'am, for the eyes of Ponyvile's highest official only,” The guardspony said in his order's practiced even tone and blank expression. Final draft pointed a hoof over to the desk “Leave it there.” “My apologies ma'am but I can-” “Leave what where?” The door slid open further, Miss Mare leaned against the frame, the effort of walking out alone probably ate at her very soul. Stepping past Final Draft, the guardspony reached into a bag slung over his armor, producing a neatly folded scroll that he surrendered to the older mare with both wings. “Please, read this with haste.” he bowed, turned, and catapulted himself into the sky, disappearing over the roof of Town Hall. “The nerve of some ponies!” Final draft said as she followed miss Mare back into the office, “I swear, if it's another request for zap apple seeds- I will personally buck them in th-” “Draft, may I have two cups of coffee? Double the usual amount of sugar, please.” All of the tiredness in her voice was gone as she made her way to the coat rack, dislodging a gray cloak from it. “Is something the matter?” Miss Mare simply pointed to the open letter on her desk. Final draft scanned it with a frown that grew steadily deeper until it threatened to become a permanent feature. My dear friend, I truly apologize for sending mail to you at this hour, but a number of the bipedal creatures that attacked Appaloosa three weeks previous were spotted by a guard contingent stationed near Brighton. They were last seen traveling the road to Ponyvile. Their actions until this point were conducted via what we believe to be long range teleportation spells, traveling by hoof may simply be a rouse to occupy our attention. There may be no real threat to your town. However, I have dispatched a few spell swords and a court mage, they should arrive within the hour. I would ask that you raise the local fryd as well, just to be safe. Should these creatures actually set their eyes on Ponyvile, I would prefer you not involve the elements until you have exhausted every other resource, Equestria can not afford to lose them. -Celestia