//------------------------------//
// Chapter 5 - Alone 
// Story: MLP Trinity 
// by CobaltSketch 
//------------------------------//

	What in the world just happened?! 

In all the years I've known Ink, I've never seen her go from blind rage to total fear so quickly.

And to think, the catalyst was Metal! Of all the ponies I've ever met, Metal is one of the last ones I'd ever think to act so viciously. 

I overheard Metal's sister, Cyber saying something in a very frightened tone, and then suddenly Metal shies away in the corner, hanging his head. 

I knew I needed to talk to someone close to figure this out, but I first had to make my way out of this room.

"Cyber?" I asked as gently as I could.

She looked up at me, still quaking after Metal’s and Ink's mutual meltdowns. 
"Y-yes, Mr.Mage?" 

It pained me to say it, but I knew I had to. "I think that the two of you need some time alone, maybe we can try this out some other time?"

She clung close to me, clearly still scared. 

"Don't forget, he's still your big brother, and you, better than anyone else should know that he means well," I reminded Cyber Wing, gently releasing her grip on me.

She got up, straightened her necktie and gathered her composure. "Alright, Mr. Mage, I'll talk to Metal. You go ahead and take care of... What exactly?" 

"Personal matters," I told her. I left slowly and quietly, delaying as long as I could to catch some of the conversation between the two siblings. All I ended up overhearing were Metal’s sobs. 

What a weird thought: Metal crying. Hard to believe that a stallion without fear could still shed tears. I guess I shouldn't judge. After all, I'm not the one with the genetic condition.

Now, who to talk to? I think I should leave Ink be for now. She and Lime need some quality sibling time just like Metal and Cyber do. I honestly don't feel like trying to sort things out myself, and risk making an incorrect assumption.

Thinking back, I remember Ink’s mother, Graphite Author, mentioning that if I ever needed help to just stop by. It's been a while, but she, Lyric Scribe, and my mother are the closest thing I've got to any real family. If I hurry, I might be able to make it to the orphanage before the place closes. Walking, I would never make it in time. I’d need a faster form of travel and that meant a teleportation spell.

I shut my eyes and pictured the orphanage entranceway as I had always remembered it. I forced all of my concentration onto that one image, picturing every detail. I recounted every sight, every sound, and even every smell, imagining myself back upon those cold marble steps. 

And then, nothing. Another failure. I SWEAR, I... no, I must calm down. A flustered grunt would have to do to keep the rage from taking over.

Deep breath. Calm. Looks like I'm going to need the only thing that makes me glad to have known my dad: my staff. My family line can enhance the strength of magic by channeling it through an object containing an obsidian crystal. All thanks to the teachings of an exceptionally talented unicorn somewhere deep in the roots of our family tree.

Once again, I cleared my mind and pictured the orphanage. I channeled my thoughts through the staff and almost immediately felt a rush of heat through my veins, while a flash of light blinded my vision. Once the light faded, I gazed upon the doors of my childhood home, the Scribe Family Orphanage.

Gotta love teleportation spells, at least, when they work.

I knocked on the gigantic oak doors and a moment later I heard trotting on the other side. The doors swung open, revealing a mare with a pale green coat, a violet mane pulled up into buns, and a headset in one ear. 

"Hello, what can I do for you?" she soullessly asked between chewing gum cracks. 

This certainly wasn't the secretary I remembered. "This is the Scribe Family Orphanage, right?" I asked

"Sure is," the mare responded, nodding her head toward a plaque on the mahogany wall. "Whatcha need?"

"I was wondering If I could speak to the owners?" I requested. 

She looked at me suspiciously, blowing a huge bubble with her chewing gum. "Whacha need to talk to 'em about?" 

"Personal matters," I stated. 

The mare stopped chewing and glared at me as she pressed down on a nearby button. "Mr.Scribe, Mrs. Author, somepony's here to see you about 'personal matters.” She smirked while making air quotes and speaking into her headset.

A wave of confusion came over the secretary's face as her bosses radioed back to her. This finally evoked emotion in her dry voice. "Yeah, he looks exactly like that, broken stick cutie mark and all... Yeah, he does have some kinda stick thing with him... Alright, I'll let him up." She looked up and asked, "Should I know you?"

I told her that I wasn't anypony special. She instructed me to head upstairs, to room one. Climbing the steps, I caught a glimpse of the secretary's mark. A speaker with a wire extending out. No wonder she was so crabby; she clearly wasn't meant to be a secretary.

As I trotted down the hallway, memories came flooding back to me. I'd love to immerse myself in the experience, but now wasn't the time. What I needed to do was to talk out the situation, and hopefully find a way to get Metal and Ink back. It's strange. I've only known Metal for about a day and a half, and yet, I feel like I've known him since I was in this orphanage, all those years ago. 

Room one. I stepped inside, and there they were. Mr.Scribe looked just as he did the day I left. Cherrywood coat, long blonde mane, kept mostly to his left side. The same maroon waistcoat with the white sleeves he always wore, and his signature crimson trilby with the white band and quarter-rest pin, matching his jet black mark. 

Mrs. Author looks almost exactly like her daughter Ink, just a little taller. She has a slightly longer mane and a lily tucked behind her right ear instead of any sort of hat. The biggest difference is with the mark, depicting a pencil drawing a heart shape, indicating her prowess in visual arts. 

I felt a burst of nostalgia as I once again became a small colt standing in front of these two ponies. "Mrs. Author? Mr. Scribe?" 

"Obsidian Mage!" Mrs. Author cheered, "I can't believe that you're really back!" Her compassionate voice reminded me of all of the advice she gave me after the incident with my real father so many years ago.

"Feels like years since we saw you last! You and Ink ever meet up again?" Mr.Scribe asked.

"We sure have, Mr.S. And beyond that, I've met a new friend thanks to her," I stated in a very colt-ish manner. 

Mrs. A's eyes lit up at the comment. "That's fantastic, Obsidian! Who would that be?"

I hesitated for a moment. I could take the easy path and just catch up with Mr. Scribe, but, no. If I waited I might not have my new friends anymore. I needed to stay focused. "Mrs. A, Mr. S, as much as I'd love to catch up, I'm afraid there's a more pressing matter at the moment." 

Their expressions faded from welcoming grins to concerned eyes. "Oh, and what would that be then?" Mrs. A asked.

"It's not 'Him' is it?" Mr. S questioned, a frightened tone creeping into his voice. 

I reassured my surrogate parents that they need not worry about my real father, then filled them in on my current situation. 

Mr. S spoke solemnly, "Ink hasn't acted that way in years, not since she first met you, Obsidian."

I remember that day vividly. Somepony was teasing me, and Ink stepped between us, giving my tormentor a full blast verbal assault. 
"Perhaps we can help somehow? It's not like we don't know our own daughter," Mrs. A suggested. 

  "Mrs. A, as much as I appreciate the offer. I don't think you talking to Ink will change Metal Wing's feelings," I explained.

The couple looked at each other, quietly discussed the matter, then turned to face me.

"Alright," Mrs. A began. "Just let us know if there's anything we can do to help. Anything at all, small or large." 

I pondered for a moment, then hit upon an idea. "Well, actually, I did have a question about your daughter."

"And just what would that be, Obsidian Mage?" Mr. S asked in his comforting voice, despite a slightly concerned expression. 

"Could you please tell me, what does she usually do to make amends with someone she's been arguing with?" I asked.

Mrs. A answered, "Ink usually makes amends by talking through the issue once initial tensions are over. Then she always gives the sweetest apologies." 

"Thank you, Mrs. A. Knowing that really helps." 

"Any time, Obsidian Mage. " Mrs. A said with a smile. 

I had almost forgotten to ask. "Oh, how's mom liking her new job?" 

"Azure Mist has been a great help around here. She wanted us to relay that she'd be happy to visit you anytime. " Mrs.Author replied. 

Armed with some ideas, I thanked Mr. S and Mrs. A for their time, hugged them goodbye for the time being, and made my way outside.

Now, to get to Ink's house. I must've taken this path hundreds of times growing up. The pavement is smooth, very easy on the hooves, and feels just as it did every time I went from the orphanage to Ink's place. It's quite an odd sensation to be afraid of what lies at the end of this path, rather than the joy I always felt on previous visits. 

Let's see, 24, 23, ah there it is, townhouse 22, Ink's home. Deep breath. It's Ink. Why should I be worried? I gave the door a soft set of three knocks. 

"I'll get it!" rang from inside.

Lime's voice, I shouldn't have been surprised. He threw the door open, nearly hitting me in the face. 

"Oh, hey there Obsidian, what brings you over?" Limelight asked, struggling with what appeared to be half of a stage costume. 

As much as I wanted to inquire about his unusual attire, instead I told him what was going on with the situation regarding Ink. 

"So you want to talk to her? Yeah, sure, she's in her room. Just, uuh, be careful," Lime warned.

This can't be good. I thanked Limelight, walked inside, and began climbing up the light blue stairs. I imagined Ink's room would be even more of a mess now than it usually is, at least considering how I always end up trashing a room I have an outburst in. 

As I topped the stairs, Ink's bedroom door lay in front of me, slightly ajar. A peek inside told the whole story. A single desk lamp lit only a small corner of the room, but from what I could make out everything was organized, sorted, and picked up. Ink was sitting at a desk on the opposite side of the room, crying into her hooves. She seemed like a completely different Ink than the one I knew. 

"Ink?" I called quietly. 

She turned in her chair, and faced me with sorrowful eyes. "Obsidian? Is that you?" Ink asked, a quiver in her voice. She's was clearly torn up about what happened, which would explain the suddenly immaculate room.

Keep it slow, I thought. "Yeah, it's me," I whispered, while slowly approaching. 

She seemed to lose the quiver in her voice, though she kept her words soft and hard to hear. "I need to talk to you, about earlier today." 

"Sure, go ahead," I responded with as comforting a voice as I could manage.

Ink looked at me briefly, then continued staring at her hooves."I feel so tangled up in my own emotions. I am so angry at Metal for screaming at me the way he did. I feel terrible for yelling at Cyber and, by extension, Metal. I know what I said was right in a way, but how I said it was so cruel. How can I ever know what’s the right thing to say?!" She proceeded to groan loudly and hid her face in her hooves once more. 

So this is what Ink's breakdowns are like, poetic, yet confusing.

Ink freed her face from hiding, tears welling up. "What should I do, Obsidian?" She wailed. 
"You could apologize to Metal,” I suggested, figuring the direct approach would be the best.

"Why should I?! All he did was yell at me like I'm some kind of monster!" Ink bellowed. Her sudden vehemence caught me by surprise.

She doesn't seem to be thinking very straight. After all, she did go completely against what she just said. I guess I needed something a bit more potent than a simple answer to get through to her. It's an awfully big gamble, but I could try... 

"Really? That's all Metal did?" I exclaimed with a tone of anger matching hers.

Ink seemed to be taken aback by my sudden change in tone, now's my chance! "Because if I remember correctly, Metal also made you that writing tool on your desk!" I began.

Ink seemed to be paying attention now. "I also recall that Metal managed to find a way to stop my outbursts; something you've been trying to do for years now!" I continued. 

Finally, it looked like she was rethinking her position on the matter. Better tone it back a little. "Ink, after you ran off, Metal fell to tears about how he acted. He was crying because he thought he lost a friend. Now you have the opportunity to set things right... for both of you!"

With brief a throat clearing, and a new look of determination on her face, Ink spoke up. "You're right, Obsidian. It's my fault for making this mess; I should be the one to fix it."

Now that's the Ink I know. 

Ink got up off her desk chair, and began pacing around the room, "The question is, Obsidian, how?" 

Time to use what Mrs. A told me. "Why not write a letter of apology? Show Metal how much you appreciate your new writing tool with a beautifully written letter? 

Ink's face lit up at the idea. "That's brilliant, Obsidian! How did you come up with it?" 

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't proud. "You could say I took advice from some very old friends." 

Suddenly it dawned on Ink who I meant, and she gave me a very satisfied smile.