Entry #649

by KitsuneRisu


Entry #649 – 11/3/1129

Today was a curious day.

Be it due to madness, or sickness, or some sort of foul malady in the air, Twilight Sparkle appeared on my doorstep with a strangeness in her eyes and a mumbling under her voice, like a drunkard sent home for the night. I was awoken by a great hammering upon the door of my home, a cacophony that would have woken the neighbours had I not answered her call with haste.

She was dressed all in black, her tiara, her status, hidden away by the hood of a cloak, and came without guard – something which took me by surprise, for it was rare these days that one would see her without accompaniment, especially without Rainbow by her side. There was a peculiarity about her, and she gave off a tone, or quality, that I had never felt in all these years since we first met. But it was hard to place, exactly, what the trouble was, for although her features seemed to be as calm and serene as a pond, there was a strange depth behind her eyes. And as our gazes met, I thought I saw something there, the sort of look that one gets during a sudden revelation, or perhaps the glint of something else entirely.

But I recognized her immediately, despite not having seen her for the past year or so, and behind the shadows that drew in from the streets and the droplets of liquid that flaked off her cloak, there were her familiar eyes, familiar smile, familiar heart, all caught up in the threads of nervous anxiety.

I invited her in, as any lonely, wistful pony would, out of the black-streaked skies of Barnsend, into the humble Terrace that I called home, into a place where I sat alone through the week with my thoughts and my designs and my writing and little else. She accepted far too eagerly, as if the invitation to someplace potentially familiar were the only thing that would banish the chill around her ankles and the shadows that played on her cloak.

As soon as the door shut, the blues and blacks of the night were cast away, and the orange glows of the fireplace took over, nary a single shadow left to mar the walls of my living room.

I spent more than a moment watching her as I prepared the tea over the fire. It had been a while since I moved here from my Canterlot manor, and longer still since I had any company, let alone hers. The sight of the Princess reduced into such a quivering, shaking form brought back visions of the days long since past, when we were all still a little bit scared, when we were all still a little bit foolish.

I must admit, at that point, to feeling slight trepidation myself — awaiting the moment when she would mention the events of that night (see: #293), but to my great relief (or perhaps not) she merely smiled weakly and informed me that it was great to see me again.

My first question was, of course, how it was that she was able to find me. But of course, a princess has her ways, and no small piece of knowledge would be beyond her glean. She made it frank that she knew exactly what happened when I removed myself from the public eye, and how my sister is now currently running the business under my name. She explained that she knew me too well — and she does — and that she had me followed here, to this home, and observed to a point until she was happy that I was safe.

I avoided the anger, this time. A year was time enough for me to understand that some ponies were never able to escape their nature, and at this point, we had drifted far enough that I could interpret her actions in a less personal manner.

She also decided to divulge the fate of our other friends — here a proper businesswoman, there a relief worker, and so on, all happy, all with family, and all moving on past the burdens we once carried.

I myself do not mind being alone, of course, as it was a matter of choice, and the air here does me quite well, in this small town by the sea.

It was unfortunate that our knowledge of the other did not extend both ways. For the past year I had not been keeping up with the trials and tribulations of the princess Twilight, perhaps due to my wish to separate myself from the weight of the modern world. But despite it all, it was nice to see her again, an old friend, a dear friend, and a moment came over me where I perhaps felt the need to approach the subject myself. And before I could even voice my regret, Twilight, as intelligent and perceptive as she always was, told me not to worry.

Even through her own tired eyes and quaking heart, she deemed it necessary to show concern for those around her. And for the reason of her arrival tonight, she had hoped that I would be able to return that concern, and of course, I could not refuse, for I have never been able to.