• Published 8th Jan 2016
  • 3,012 Views, 178 Comments

Recherche - Crescent Pulsar



Marshall is in a rut, drifting without a purpose. Rarity is in a rut, looking for inspiration. By chance they meet, despite living in different universes, and find what they're yearning for with the aid of the other.

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Chapter 1: Hearing Voices is a Rarity? Ha!

Author's Note:

(I would appreciate it if this story wasn't added to any groups.)

I don't really consider myself a fan of MLP: FIM, and Rarity is probably the character — among the main cast — that I relate to the least, yet here this is. I guess that's inspiration, for you. Which is fitting, I suppose.

While I've got the general direction and ending planned, the details between the beginning and end are rather nebulous, and I'm rather sporadic with my writing besides, so updates will most likely be slow. In the unlikely event that this story sparks some interest, I'll do my best to give it more attention.

Beyond that? I had some fun with names, and coming up with the cover art. The latter — among other things — refers to something outside of the story's context, although there's enough of a connection to figure out what it is, even if it might be considered obscure. If you can guess what it's referring to, you'll get... Well, Link's legendary gesture of approval: the Skyward Thumb. Your gardening prowess will definitely level up!

Ramen, or ravioli?

That was the question that Marshall March was faced with as he stood in the kitchenette of his apartment, considering the two aforementioned items on the counter. One of them would become his dinner, if one could call either that, but he was having trouble deciding on which one to choose because he was in a mood for neither.

It wasn't so much his tight budget that had led to this situation, despite its own contribution, but because he worked the second shift. Since various places of importance and convenience were only accessible during the day, or before his shift ended, he'd chosen to forgo the lifestyle of a night owl. As such, he only ate enough to sate his hunger, to avoid indigestion while he tried to sleep. That, and he'd heard that it wasn't all that healthy to sleep while digesting food, and he could do without the extra calories sticking around.

While his weight wasn't a major issue at the moment, even though he was — and had always been — overweight, he could easily gain weight if he wasn't careful, all thanks to the genes that he had inherited from his parents. Since he was a bit touchy about his weight, due to some of the mistreatment that he had received as a child by his peers, he made an effort to keep it down, lest anyone decided to call him "Marshmallow" again, or say "The March of the Marshmallow" as he passed them by. While highly unlikely to happen now, he had been "bitten" too often at an impressionable age to not shy away from the mere possibility.

He was tempted to get something better to eat, because there were certainly better choices than ramen and ravioli available, but he'd made a habit of switching between the good stuff and the not-so-good stuff, in order to avoid eating the latter on consecutive days instead of every other day. Unfortunately, the healthier — and tastier, sometimes — foods tended to be more expensive, so he'd had to make this sort of compromise with his diet.

When he finally came to a decision and began to reach for the packet of ramen, in order to put it away, he was struck by a mild sense of vertigo, and a sensation in his head that could only be described as "fuzzy." The experience only lasted for an instant, but it was more than enough to make him pause and wonder about it, and wait to see if anything more would occur. When nothing further happened, he figured that it wasn't anything to worry about and resumed his prior course of action.

After returning the packet of ramen to the top of the refrigerator, with the others of its kind, he heard an unfamiliar — but distinctly feminine — voice enthusiastically say, "Oooo; now this looks promising."

Startled, Marshall turned about and swept his gaze around the main room of his apartment, as he tried to ascertain the source of the voice, feeling nervous despite his attempts to stay calm. His living room was lightly furnished, mainly consisting of an entertainment center, a bookcase, and a matching loveseat and armchair that was set around a low table, so he only had to move around a little to be pretty sure that no one could be hiding in that portion of the room. With the front door secured, the bedroom and bathroom doors closed, and seeing no place for someone to hide in the kitchenette with him, his nervousness began to give way to confusion.

Not long after he had decided to write the whole thing off, thinking that the voice must have come from one of the other apartments despite its volume and clarity, the voice returned, sounding a bit awed as it said, "This is simply amazing. I'm seeing so many familiar things, yet many are unfamiliar as well." The voice proceeded to sound more level as its train of thought changed. "This room is rather dull, though... Which isn't helped by all of the understated colors. I wonder: could that just be what's normal for this world?"

Not knowing what to think about this development, but desiring a rational explanation, Marshall did his best to quell his anxiety while he looked for something that could explain the voice that he had heard, since he didn't like the idea that the source could be his own mind. As unlikely as it was to be pranked in this way, especially considering the criminal element that would be involved, he was well aware that people could go to ridiculous lengths for the sake of posting a video of it on the Internet.

With that last thought in mind, and the voice wondering about his actions while he was checking around for something that could transmit sound, he began to look for a hidden camera, which would explain how someone could know what he was doing as he was doing it. However, after checking every place that would have a good view of the room, he didn't find anything resembling a device that could make a video recording.

More worrying, however, was that he had finally noticed the unchanging quality of the voice, as if it was unaffected by distance, or anything that would affect sound waves in some way. It was hardly his area of expertise, though, so he wasn't too sure if what he was hearing was truly strange for his environment, especially if someone knew what they were doing when it came to the science of acoustics.

Then, a possible explanation occurred to him, and he could have hit the side of his head with the heel of his palm for not thinking of it sooner, even though he was pretty confident that he would have noticed such a thing. Unfortunately, after inspecting his ears, and checking the areas beyond them when he found nothing unusual in or immediately around them, he finally began to seriously consider that the voice may have an internal origin.

He'd much rather believe that someone else wanted him to think that he was going crazy, and thus wanted more information and evidence before making any conclusions about his own sanity, so he maintained his cool and decided to go to his bedroom, where his computer was located. He hoped that he could find something helpful on the Internet, since it'd be awkward to bring up such a subject with his parents, which could cause them to worry unnecessarily if everything turned out to be fine. It was also preferable to seeing a doctor about it, since he didn't have a good impression regarding what could happen to people when the "experts" decided that they weren't capable of functioning independently.

Before heading into his bedroom, however, his stomach dictated that he put something into it before it got too late. So, he got himself a bowl from the cupboard, filled it with ravioli, then placed it in the microwave for a two-minute cooking session. Of course, while he was doing that, the voice was unrelenting with its presence, wondering about the filling of the ravioli that he was going to eat, and the contraption that made the bowl rotate within it.

Due to the voice's apparent ignorance concerning such well-known things, especially considering how articulate it was, he couldn't help being curious about it. If the voice was being done by another person, the character choice wasn't the sort that he would have expected, insofar as its purpose was concerned. On the other hand, in the case that it happened to be another personality in his head, it was kind of odd how it didn't know things that he knew, unless — for whatever reason — it was all pretend. The fact that the voice was of a feminine nature was also curious, but he didn't know what to think about that, or whether it would be beneficial to explore what it could mean.

When he entered his bedroom and turned on the overhead light, the voice's commentary made him aware that his actions could still be seen, so he spared his bedroom a cursory glance as he stood by his desk and woke his computer up, wanting to find something but doubtful that anything would be found even with greater scrutiny. Aside from a dresser, hamper, small trash bin, a full-size bed and the desk beside him, his room was rather spartan. It certainly didn't win any awards with the voice, if he was any judge of the verdicts that were being issued by it.

Once he settled into his swivel chair and rotated it to face his desk, he started his browser and entered his query into Google. Suddenly, right when the results of said query were displayed, the voice gasped in shock before deliberately saying, "It's... It's trying to confirm if it's hearing voices...?" There was a pause before the voice, in a mildly tremulous tone, apprehensively asked, "Um... Hello? Can you hear me?"

Unsure of what to do, Marshall didn't immediately respond to the voice's question. After all, if he was being pranked, he could very well fall into the prankster's trap, which would result in a "gotcha" scenario. While he could tolerate such a thing happening, he'd rather not have to deal with it at all. However, should the voice be of his own mind's making, would acknowledging it be a good idea?

After some rumination, by which time the voice had begun to express its doubts regarding his awareness of it, he decided that not knowing would be more bothersome than his other options, especially if the voice didn't abate any time soon. In addition to that, though, it occurred to him that it might be more interesting to learn what kind of character his mind had managed to fabricate all on its own, if that turned out to be the case.

In order to prepare himself for whatever might happen after addressing the voice, he leaned back in his chair and took a calming breath. Unfortunately, with his focus on that, he forgot to think of something more eloquent to say than, "Uh... Hi?"

The silence that followed was deafening, but it didn't last for long, which wasn't surprising considering the barely-contained excitement in the voice's, well, voice. "Oh my! Can you hear me, after all?"

"...I suppose so?" Marshall answered carefully.

That seemed to release the floodgates of the voice's tempered feelings, who squealed with glee before animatedly saying, "That is wonderful news! I didn't even know that such a thing was possible." The voice's tone turned contemplative as it continued to speak. "Hmmmm... Well, Twilight hadn't specifically mentioned that communication would be impossible." Then, the voice began to sound upbeat again as it went on to say, "Still, after so many failures, being able to communicate with the host should more than make up for them."

"Host?" Marshall asked, not liking the sound of that, even though he wasn't ready to believe the reason behind his concern being possible. "You're not some kind of parasite, are you?"

"Heavens, no!" Came the voice's reply, sounding scandalized, before it settled down and calmly explained, "By 'host,' I mean to say that I'm a guest."

Unable to help himself, a corner of Marshall's mouth quirked up in response to an impromptu bout of mischievousness, which was inspired — in part — by a coping mechanism. "What am I getting out of the deal, then?"

There was an awkward stretch of silence before the voice cleared its throat and airily said, "Why, the pleasure of my company, of course."

Marshall chuckled at that, which evoked some giggles from the voice. Feeling that the time was right to pursue the matter of what was happening directly, he asked, "So, if you're a guest, are you saying that this isn't some sort of prank, or a figment of my imagination?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," the voice affirmed. "My name is Rarity, and I am a unicorn who hails from the fair land of Equestria."

That's when the alarm on the microwave went off.