Crash-landed years from when he left, Scribble finds Canterlot depressingly the same as he left it, with one exception, everyone has gone on without him. Between time travelers leaving cryptic clues, living ghosts of the life he missed, and a growing crowd of followers, things are dificult enough. But why does everyone insist on making him decide what to do next? It's enough to make a pony throw their hooves up in despair.

Broken sword, broken wings, and ghosts of the past coming back to haunt her, Ako feels the weight of exhaustion. Torn between trying to simply escape from everything and clinging to the last familiar faces and sense of kinship she has, what is the purpose of a warrior in a time of peace?

...

Hmm?

Oh, yeah, and those other two guys are around sometimes too. The ones who were born to fulfill menial tasks and serve a central order which proved grossly unreliable. So... this is freedom, then? Following around a lunatic in a blue box, getting ordered around or treated like furniture, and having no idea what to say when someone finally does notice them. Eh, it's a living.