Episode 4: Angels - Part 2
We headed past the glitz and glamor of the neighborhoods that clustered around the economic center of Fillydelphia like cows to a watering hole, and toward the outlying slums that looked like the rest of the city had gotten sick and thrown their guts out on the land around them. I’d been the slums several times already, but it was always a shock to see them from the air. It hurt a bit when I looked out over them and saw an ugly black spot where Tailor Made’s brothel had been. I knew that, in my heart, I had an ugly black spot just like it. Too bad mine wouldn’t heal as fast as the city would. In the slums, nothing stayed destroyed for long, and there’d be another place just like it in a few months. Were it so easy to mend a heart like that, I might have avoided a lot of harm in the past weeks of my life.
The air tasted like copper when we flew over the poor districts, and it burnt my nose. I had to try to ignore it as I followed Ivory out and out and out, farther away from West Fillydelphia than I had normally been. I was afraid we were going to fly right ot the sea, but eventually he started to circle around a smattering of apartment buildings and rowhouses that looked like everything else around them.
We banked in low over a narrow street that had clearly been converted from a dirt path to asphalt in a haste, since there were cracks and dust everywhere. It felt uneven beneath my hooves, which wasn’t exactly promising. The only thing that assuaged my fears was that there didn’t seem to be any cars on the street, so I got the feeling that whoever had installed it had a been on an overdose of wishful thinking.
There was a church just down the road from us, and it was where Ivory was headed, the bag of clothes swung on his back. Unlike the church downtown, this one better resembled a run down soup kitchen than a house of worship. The wood was sagging and the steeple leaned to the right. Several of the windows were boarded up, and the front doors were metal instead of wood. Even the front steps were cracked.
Yet, when we walked inside, that all didn’t seem to matter. There was a warmth inside, a kind of tangible coziness that the place had, which made it stand out from the rest of the slums. There were a number of ponies inside, and only about half of the main hall was made up of pews. The rest was filled with beds and tables, presumably for ponies that would otherwise be on the street. Most of the ponies inside were dressed in rags or even less, and there were a couple that even had patches of skin showing through their coats.
They didn’t pay much attention to Ivory or I. Really, I don’t think they could be damned to care about much of anything at the moment. I followed Ivory through the main hall and to a hallway at the back. It led down to a small office, which Ivory entered without knocking. Inside was a mare in an all-white dress with a large hood that hid most of her head, including her eyes.
She looked up when Ivory came in. Her ears twitched, and a smile spread to her face. “Ivory, if I live and breathe,” she said. “So you decided to come after all, is that it?”
“Was there ever any doubt?” Ivory asked, walking over to her desk—an ugly metal thing overflowing with papers and ceramic mugs. “Or did you just not have any . . . faith?”
“Very funny, Ivory.” She seemed to almost, well, sniff the air, then turned toward me. “And who’s your little friend? Don’t tell me you started dating ponies again.”
Ivory grew flushed at that, and I have to stifle a giggle. He managed to compose himself, then cleared his throat. “Patroness, this is Minty Flower, a friend. She’s come today to, er, help me on my rounds.”
“Minty Flower? That reporter girl, isn’t she?”
“Right on the first, Patroness.”
Patroness smiled at me. It was a bit disconcerting since half her head was hidden by her white hood, but nice enough. “Well now, how honored I am to have you in our humble little church,” she said. “From your silence, I take it that you haven’t been to a church quite like this?”
I shook my head, then remembered she could actually see that, so I answered, “No.”
“Most ponies out in the bigger city haven’t.” She chuckled. “We’re part of Celestia’s Church, but you could say a bit of a more . . . community-oriented sect. We all take the vow of blindness to become impartial servants to the ponies of Equestria. Not the most popular vow to take, I’ll tell you, and not the kind of place the rich folks seem to visit.”
Her attention turned back to Ivory. “Speaking of which, did you bring the clothes? I know it was a lot to ask, even of you . . .”
“Not a problem,” Ivory said. He placed the bag of Joya’s clothes on Patroness’s table and smiled. “We’ve got you enough to clothe fifty ponies, if not more. That should be good for at least a while in this winter. I’ll get more when I can.”
“You’re a dear, Ivory. Feel free to stop by if you ever want to take up that dinner offer. I’m told you look pretty scrawny for a big hippogriff.”
“Will do,” Ivory said.
He walked out the room, and I followed him. My cheeks felt a little hot as I figured I had just played observer to something that went a bit deeper than I really thought, and was well above my pay grade. I did want to ask him about it at some point, though. In the meantime, I had plenty to think about. I mean, Ivory was suddenly not just some grumpy hippogriff, but involved with a church in the slums.
It threw me for a loop. I had known Ivory as a kind of conniving figure who did what he wanted and got information through various means that I didn’t want to know about. Then again, most ponies seemed to assume I was nice, so appearances could be deceiving.
We headed out of the church and back out into the street. Ivory seemed to walk taller, his chest puffed up and eyes looking down at me like I was below him. Well, okay, I was, but figuratively as well as literally.
“Well someone’s happy,” I said.
“Don’t be dense,” Ivory said. “Besides, I didn’t bring you on this to brag about myself.”
“Then why?”
“To show you that you can be good, Minty. Like it or not, it’s obvious to everyone around you that you’re going down a path that isn’t easy to come back from.”
I shrugged. “So why are you helping? I mean, out of everyone I know, we’re probably the least close.”
Ivory got down on his knees and elbows so that he was eye to eye with me. It wasn’t until he was up close that I realized how different his eyes were from mine. Not just in shape, but how open they were, and how closed mine were, like a trap snapped shut.
“Because I’ve been down that same path, Minty, and I know what it does. Throw away your own life, fine, but don’t go hurting so many other ponies like you’ve already done.”
“Oh, yeah, thanks for reminding me.” I turned away so he wouldn’t see the shame on my voice, even if my voice was laden with it. “Alright, so what is a day with you supposed to prove?”
“To have a good, normal day. You need more of those in your life before any of this can go away. Trust me on that one.”
I wanted to argue with him for the sake of arguing, or maybe because I didn’t want to admit that he was right. More right than I had ever been. He seemed to know that, too, because he took off before I even had a chance to get another word in edgewise. I didn’t really have any other choice, so I followed him into the sky.
* * *
We arrived first at a small coffee shop nestled between two skyscrapers close to downtown. It wasn’t exactly the place I would have picked to get leads on any cases, but I decided it was in my best interest not to argue. It was still morning enough that the place was crowded, though not too crowded. The shop was the trendy type, with low tables, comfortable chairs, and a bar instead of the traditional store counter. The coffee still didn’t smell any different from what my dad had made over the stove, though.
“Feel like getting some coffee, Minty?” Ivory asked.
“What, did we just stop here for a caffeine break?” I snorted. “We could have at least gotten something a little . . . stronger.”
“Yes, you’re right,” he said, “but I didn’t bring you here for the coffee. This place just so happens to be the favored place for Amethyst’s employees to come for a quick morning stop.” He rolled his eyes at me and pushed his way toward the counter. He came back with two cups of coffee, which he sat down at a table near the door. He sat nearest to the entrance, while I got a window seat.
It was strange, how Ivory managed to blend in better than I could despite not even being the same species. I tried to copy his relaxed posture and subtle looks of trust and innocence that, in ways I didn’t know were possible, made me want to tell him secrets.
His ears perked up when two mares walked in, chatting loudly. They had their manes up in buns and those tiny glasses perched on their noses, so I figured them to be secretaries. I couldn’t really make out what they were saying, but then again my hearing hasn’t always been the best. I got some infection in them when I was about three years old, and since I haven’t been the best listener.
The line, luckily, stretched all the way to where we sat, so the two mares were next to us for about five minutes. I sipped at my drink and watched Ivory. He made little motions and nods like he was talking to me, even though he didn’t say a word. Keeping up appearances, I supposed. When they had at last left, he did finally turn to me and start to talk to me.
“Well, wouldn’t you know it, I think I found us a lead,” he said.
“Really? What kind of lead?” I asked.
He smiled. “A big one. See, those mares were talking about how a security guard had to escort some ‘nut’ off their property yesterday morning. Says that he was yelling all kinds of things.”
“You think he knows something?”
“I’d wager on it. At the very least, we might have an ally in him, or, even better, somepony we can . . . persuade . . . some information out of.”
I grinned, but then my expression soured. “Uh, Ivory, that’s great and all, but how are we going to figure out where this pony lives?”
“Now you’re really starting to think,” he said, then pointed toward the front of the line at the register. “We’re going to need to pick up a box of donuts before we head out.”
* * *
As it turned out, one of Fillydelphia’s Finest was also a big fan of donuts, and was happy to let us hang out by his police steamcar once we came bearing gifts. He was a pudgy stallion that was probably only a cop because of family connections, but he was important at the moment. Like the way pigs enjoy their slop, he was shoveling donuts into his mouth like they were the key to immortality.
The only hard part about getting him to talk, really, was for him to stop shoveling food down his throat for five seconds. We were able to get what we needed, though. He didn’t really see any reason not to give us the information, after all. We were just compiling a story about crazies in Fillydelphia, obviously, so why would we cause any suspicion?
I didn’t talk very much while Ivory worked, just watched. It was nice to be the one that nopony relied on for once, and I found myself having fun. I’d almost forgotten that I was supposed to enjoy my job, that it wasn’t meant to be a hard slog through a sea of crap all the time.
We bid the police officer a goodbye and headed back out, leaving the whole box of donuts to him. I had to admit, seeing all of those made me hungry enough that I got Ivory to let us stop in a small cafe before heading out to where our “crazy” apparently lived. I got hay fries and a deluxe sandwich for myself, though Ivory told me he didn’t want anything. When I pressed for the reason why, I wish I hadn’t. Turns out, griffons are more fond of meat than ponies.
“This whole thing seems . . . odd,” Ivory was saying. “I mean, there is so little information on this guy, way less than there should be for anypony. Only your assassin friend might have less.”
“Hey, he’s not my friend,” I said.
“Fine, co-worker, whatever.” Ivory rolled his eyes. “The point out, this guy has so little on him that you would think I would have heard of him by now. Ponies like him don’t just live average lives.”
“So what was he doing, being out in the open and waving a sign in front of Amethyst’s building?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I suppose we’ll have to get him to tell us.”
I gulped down about half my hay fries in one motion. “And if he doesn’t want to?”
Ivory gave me a predatory smile. “Oh, he’ll talk.”
I was suddenly reminded of exactly how wicked sharp his beak was, and how Ivory’s front talons could probably gut me without breaking a sweat. Being a hippogriff, he also had the bucking power of a pony to back him up, which made him even more formidable. I was reminded how glad I was to have him on my side. At least, I hoped so.
“So where exactly does this guy live, again?” I asked.
“The cop gave me an address out in The Burb,” Ivory said. “Like I said, not exactly fitting for the type of pony he is. Folks out there never bother to hide anything, so you can get a mountain of evidence on any of ‘em without even trying. Especially their affairs. It’s like they want to get caught, most of the time.”
I snickered. “I bet.”
Ivory gave me a cold look, and I stopped laughing immediately as I realized the comment had been directed toward me. It really hurt, but I guess I should have expected it. Sterling was his friend, and it must have killed him not to tell Sterling all about what I had done. So, naturally, he was taking it out on me. My thoughts went back to those talons again.
Suddenly not hungry, I pushed my plate away. “Alright, let’s go. We should get up there before everypony starts leaving early for the day. All those rich ponies like to do it.”
“Seems like something a West Fillydelphia mare wouldn’t know.”
“Can it, you big bird, and let’s move.”
Ivory just shook his head and followed me outside.
* * *
I had to admit, I probably knew the way to The Burb a little too well for a mare like me, but then again I had visited Grapevine more times than I could count lately. Though, I had always taken the trolley, so seeing everything from the sky was a new experience. The roads were like squiggles in the landscape, and the steamcars like very large ants.
We swooped low over neighborhoods, schools, and small business, Ivory sweeping his head back and forth to scan for the right house. Even though we pegasi have good sight, griffons and their hybrids outclass us in every way with their vision. He could probably see the individual house numbers and street names on the signs, while all I could see was the general shape.
Luckily for me, we headed in the opposite direction of Grapevine's house. I hadn’t even wanted to imagine what would have happened if I’d run in to her out in her neck of the woods. Instead, we headed out toward the even richer parts of the already-rich suburb, almost to where Marshmallow used to live before she was mayor.
“Whoever he is, he sure has money,” Ivory said, flying almost directly over me. He banked to the right and I followed him, to a neighborhood at the base of a large hill. The houses were easily double the size of Joya’s, and built of better materials, too. No cheap wood or plaster; they were granite and brick.
It was still just past lunch, so there weren’t a ton of ponies around to look up at us. Or, so I thought, until I saw a bunch of stallions and mares staring at us from inside their houses. I had forgotten that, among the rich, only one pony in the family worked.
Ivory dropped to the ground on the soft grass of somepony’s front yard, and stared up at the house in front of us. It was a looming manor with an actual tower and a massive front door made of well-polished oak. In it were carved symbols that I had never seen before, but when I reached out to touch them my hoof started to burn.
“Wards,” Ivory said. “Powerful magic to keep out prying eyes. Whoever lives here isn’t just your average crazy on the street.”
“Is anypony we ever face average?” I asked.
He didn’t answer me, but rather knocked on the door. His talons made loud, hollow sounds across the mottled wood, and I waited while shifting from hoof to hoof. My experiences with truly powerful magic users was paltry at best, as Grapevine’s best claim to fame was a teleportation spell that worked perhaps half the time.
Sure, pegasi had magic as well, but ours was different. It wasn’t as subtle as the earth ponies’, but not nearly as overt as a unicorn’s. Besides the weather, we needed magic to fly, as our wings couldn’t actually hold us up on our own. Despite our appearances, we were teeming with magic at all times. I supposed that’s why the door had burned me.
The echo of hooves upon tile emanated from the interior of the house and grew steadily closer, the sound increasing in clarity as the pony within drew closer to the door. I thought about moving behind ivory to let his larger body shield me, but it wouldn’t have given the mysterious pony the best impression of me. To the ponies in Fillydelphia, I was supposed to be some sort of hero, though I rarely felt it. Still, appearances had to be kept. If this pony had some mastery of magic, he might be useful in taking down Amethyst.
About a dozen locks were unlatched on the other side of the door before the stained oak swung open. However, unlike most doors, it swung outward toward us, so that we had to step out of the way. Once it was open, I saw why: a thick line of salt ran across the doorway.
Scowling, a pony stepped forward out of the shadows within the house. His fur might have once been a bright shade of burnt yellow, almost copper, but had faded until it was almost white. His mane was thin and dry, though still retained much of its emerald color around the horn on his head. On his flank, a cutie mark of a pink and purple snail stood out against the soft background.
“Minty Flower,” he said plainly, like he had been expecting me. He turned to Ivory. “I don’t know your face, stranger. State your business.” I noticed that, though he seemed to be friendly enough, he had something hidden behind his back.
Ivory coughed. “I am Ivory, and we are here about the . . . display . . . we were told you participated in outside of Amethyst’s headquarters. We’re no friend of hers, I assure you.”
“Oh. That.” His lips curled up in a sneer. “That was the ill-fated product of too much to drink and not half as much sense as I like to pretend I possess. It is nothing for either of you to worry about. Especially you, Minty. Your allegiances are well known.”
My stomach sank. “Which ones?”
“It would be easier to name those you didn’t consort yourself with,” he said. “The ill-fated rebellion with even less sense than I, the mayor and her police, Amethyst herself, even the Assassin in Black. Strange to think there are those who thought you would save our city once Pullmare was gone.”
“I tried.”
“And you failed. All you left was a power vacuum that nastier ponies were quick to fill. You know nothing, Minty Flower.”
He moved to shut the door, but I stood in his way. What I may have lacked in knowledge, I always made up for in a combination of bravery and foolishness. My father had complained it would be my end, but it still proved useful when I needed it.
“Then teach me,” I said. “All of those ‘allies’ are dead, missing, or against me. Ivory and I came here today because we need new friends, and it seemed like a pony such as yourself could help.”
He snorted and didn’t close the door. “And if I refuse?”
“I might not be very bright, but ponies listen to me and will follow me if I say the right words. You, however, seem to be very isolated. This salt line won’t hold Amethyst back when she comes calling.”
The stallion’s eyes narrowed. I could see his cold, bronze eyes studying me, trying to decide if I was as right as I hoped. He sighed, then turned around and marched back into his house. “Don’t disturb the salt,” he said without bothering to turn back around.
Ivory and I stepped into the house, feeling a rush of cold air sweep over us from the rafters far above, moving across polished chestnut bannisters and beech fixtures inlaid with iron curled into leaves and stags.
“Where did that little speech come from?” Ivory asked.
“Don’t ask me right now,” I said. “Just be glad it worked.”
We were led, more or less, into what counted as a living room inside the stallion’s house. Rather than a radio or couch, however, the corners of the room were filled with antique bookcases that sagged under the weight of volumes as thick as two of my hooves put together. Many of them lay opened on a table in the center of the room, which also contained the only chair. Up on the ceiling, strange runes and sigils colored the formerly white plaster, and I could almost feel power emanating from them.
“I don’t get many visitors,” the stallion said. He looked around like he was about to clear out someplace in the room for us, then gave up and sat in his chair. “I usually have more important matters to attend to.”
“Like yelling at Amethyst’s building until the police had to take you away.”
“As I said, it was a foolish mistake, and one I don’t intend to make again.”
Ivory raised an eyebrow. “Be that as it may, it makes our job harder, as Amethyst will be on her guard from now on. No chance of getting that close to her building again as you could.”
“That is hardly my problem. Amethyst has concentrated her power already. She will be untouchable for some time to come. Her servants made short work of any who might have stood against her in the slums and whorehouses. I’m told she put ten brothels to the torch in one night, and entire tenements burned for an entire day. Conveniently, the fire department overlooked them until the last moments.”
My stomach clenched. It was my fault that Tailor Made’s whorehouse had burned, I knew, but I had no idea about the others, or the apartments. I hoped that Dirty Joke was still alive, though I was sure he wouldn’t come calling anytime soon, nor would I have wanted him to. Too many ponies had died because of me already, and I didn’t need another soul weighing down my conscience.
Ivory strode behind the stallion, picking at books and tomes older than all three of us in the room combined. Some still bore royal sigils that I could only assume meant they came from the Canterlot library. How he had acquired them, I didn’t know.
“Oh, I was told that if I were to meet you, to tell you that Trixie sends love to her daughter and yourself,” the stallion said, waving a hoof in the air.
“Trixie?” For a moment, I could not scarcely recall the name, then the memories of Las Pegasus came flooding back. “How do you know Grapevine’s mom? And how does she know that you know me?”
The stallion laughed languidly. “Everypony knows you, Minty Flower. As for Trixie, well, I’ve known her since I was a colt when she and made her first appearance in Ponyville, all those years ago. We keep in touch, occasionally.”
“Who are you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“The girl asked you a question,” Ivory growled, “one I’d like answered as well. We risk ourselves just being in your home; the least you can give us is a name.”
“Snails,” he spat, like it was a sour taste in his mouth. “Not a name I wear proudly, but it suits. Here I am, crawling on my belly, protected by my home, while Amethyst does as she pleases.”
“Nopony could expect you to take her on by yourself,” Ivory said. “That’s why we came by, to try to gather allies. We have a common enemy in Amethyst, that’s plain to see, and it makes us stronger.”
Snails chuckled, and when he looked at us, his eyes were elsewhere. I wonder who he sees, in our stead. Somepony long dead, I was sure. There had been a few such ponies back in my village, and even in Fillydelphia that had it written plain on their faces. Those who grieved for too long eventually made it part of themselves.
“So what would you propose our little group do, if I were so inclined to help either of you?” Snails questioned, flicking away his look of grief like it was no more than a mask.
Ivory and I looked at each other, then shrugged. “We don’t know,” we said in tandem, eliciting a look of surprise from Snails. “What we mean is, we’re stuck,” I explained. “Amethyst has knocked us down and we lack the knowledge to get back up, even Ivory. Our choices were to either stumble around in the dark, hoping for a stray lead from one of the employees, or go looking for you. We chose the easier one.”
“So you think for the moment.” Snails stood up and walked to a pile of books in the corner. Unlike the rest, they seemed untouched and covered in a thick film of dust. Their covers were bound in thick, crimson letter and emblazoned with the city of Manehattan’s sigil rather than Canterlot’s. He stroked one hoof across them as he might have a lover, getting that same look in his eye once more.
“We just want to defeat our common foe,” Ivory said. “Surely, you must see that.”
“Do not think me such a fool, hybrid,” Snails said without turning his back. “Amethyst has grown used to blood on her hooves by now. She will not show either of you any mercy, even Minty, despite her supposed friendship with the mayor. Do not mistake me; I care little if two fools die for the lack of common sense, but Minty’s death would have far more of an effect on the city than just herself. Even though many have lost faith in her, many still see her as a savior and hero. Her death is exactly what Amethyst needs.”
Icy cold fear gripped me. He was right. I wondered who the fire at Tailor Made’s had really been for: Dirty Joke or myself. The same with the fighting at the rebellion’s headquarters. But, Amethyst was also well aware of where I lived. What was holding her back, or who?
Snails must have seen the look on my face, as he trotted over to me and lay one awkward hoof on my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to scare you too badly,” he told me, “only to let you know the truth. Amethyst is not invincible, only very strong. Yet, every castle has a servant’s entrance.”
“What do you mean?”
“Amethyst is infamous for never concentrating her power in one place, not even her business. While it may help her by keeping her personal empire from being so easily overrun, it also leaves her vulnerable. If we take down each of her smaller elements one by one, then soon she will be left by herself. She is mighty atop her throne, but craven when faced with actual danger.”
Ivory puffed out his chest, ruffling the feathers on his wings like a tide coming in to the shore. His eyes gleamed and he seemed to stand ten feet taller just with the idea that Amethyst could be overcome. “So you have a plan, then.”
“A fool idea, more like, but the last plan got Snips killed. I’d like to see how Amethyst fares against three mad ponies with no plans or backup.”
He looked to me like he expected I would object, but I didn’t raise my voice. I had only had the vaguest notions of a plan for most of my adventures in Fillydelphia, and the rest had been made up. Most of the time, right on the spot. I had never admitted it before, but I rather liked the idea.
Snails rose from his seat and talked into his kitchen. I opened my mouth to ask him to get me something when I saw him standing in front of the icebox, but when he opened it all I could do was stare. Guns lined the inside where food should have been. Pistols, revolvers, rifles, shotguns, grenades, it was a cornucopia of weaponry.
They shone in the dull light in the kitchen and reflected in my eyes. I saw them for what they were. The lives that I had seen taken by guns were growing too many, and their sounds echoed in my sleep at night. I was not sure whether to laugh or cry upon seeing so many.
I wanted to grasp them and hold the guns in my hooves, I wanted to throw them away, I wanted to march up to Amethyst and plug her full of holes, I wanted to cower and cover my ears and forget they existed. I was Cadance, Starswirl the Bearded, the dark heart of Sombra; I was Fluttershy in the meadows, Twilight on her throne, Luna riding on the pale moonlight. I was zap apple cider, shaken not stirred. I was—
“Crazy!” Ivory interrupted, shrieking. “That’s what you are! Crazy!”
“—prepared. I’m no hero, but I’m no fool either,” Snails said. “I keep my weapons close because if I don’t have them, somepony else will.”
“But grenades? You really keep live grenades in an icebox?”
“And where else would you prefer I keep them? Do they grow less explosive if I keep them in my sock drawer, or in the wash basin?”
Ivory shook his head, while my eyes were drawn to the marks on the ceiling and the salt lines that covered every doorway and window. “What’s with all the . . . that stuff?” I asked, pointing.
“Anti-magic.” Snails lowered a grin to me. He picked up a shotgun and showed me a shell filled not with pellets, but salt. “You’d be surprised at the measures earth ponies came up with to combat unicorns in the days the three tribes made war to each other. Some of it is simple, but the rest . . . I’m not quite sure how far it goes, only that some of those who practiced it were found with their eyes burned out.”
“But really, a shotgun filled with salt? What, was throwing it at unicorns not enough?”
Snails loaded four more rounds into the chamber before cocking the gun and putting the safety on. “The ancient earth ponies aren’t the only ones who delved into dark magic. Amethyst has been drawing from that well, and it’s all I can do to keep her at bay. Now that I have allies . . . we might be able to stop her. We just need to make a short visit.”
“To whom?” questioned Ivory, selecting a pistol for himself.
“Why,” he said, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder, “Fillydelphia’s own resident assassin, of course.”
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Well, I certainly never expected to see Snails involved in all this, much less armed to the teeth.
"off"
You're missing a word or something in there.
Snails! And he's old, and possibly a little crazy. Sounds like fun.
Well this story has taken yet another interesting and unexpected turn, hasn't it.
3686679
Would it be The World At Large if it hadn't?
I really hope she gets help and gets better cause it pains me to see her like that
3702534
Would you believe Minty's mental difficulties are based on the real life problems of the author?
Ha...haha...ha...
Oooh! Finally, Minty will see who the assassin is!
Oh, yeah. Snails. I didn't make that connection.
I just thought he was a pony named Snails...Duh!
3702553
That downward spiral seems to be inverting
Well, I do not know what I was expecting.
Give us a show, Toix!