The Longest Journey: Equestrian Edition

by funkyferret

Chapter 1: Penumbra Part 2

"... And she shows up with her mane dyed this horrid bright pink color. Can you imagine what... April? Are you even listening to me?" Emma frowned and leaned across the table to poke April Rain.

April managed to get pretty good clearance between her flank and the restaurant's bench as she reacted to the palomino's prodding. "W-what?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Hey, space cadet, try to rejoin us here on planet earth, okay?" She gestured at her friend's plate. "Look at the mess you made. What ever did that spaghetti ever do to you?"

April looked down at her plate and blushed. She had been prodding at her food absently, and had managed to churn it into an almost unrecognizable blob. "Sorry. I guess I'm just a little distracted." 'Like with the fact that I'm losing my mind.' She sighed. "I'm not really that hungry anyways."

Emma was busy finishing off her own meal. How she managed to talk and eat at the same time was a mystery to her friend. She jabbed her fork at April. "You always eat like a bird, are you trying to lose weight or something?"

April blinked. "What? No!"

The palomino smiled conspiratorially. "It's alright. A mare has to look after her figure." She patted her flank for emphasis.

"I'm not dieting," April responded flatly.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Fine. Seriously though, what's got you so worked up?"

April opened her mouth and found she could not speak past the lump that had formed in her throat. She looked away. "It's nothing."

Emma examined her for a minute before reaching across the table and grabbing April's hoof with her own. When the other mare looked up, the palomino stared directly into her eyes as she spoke. "April, you're my best friend. You can tell me anything. I'll be here for you if you want to talk."

April smiled shakily. "Thanks." She took a deep breath. "So, any plans tonight?"

Emma's face lit up. "Uh-huh. We're going to go hit the club."

"Who is it this time?"

"Paul."

April furrowed her brow. "What happened to Rick?"

Emma waved her hoof dismissively. "Dumped him last week after I caught him with this pretty little brunette with her mane down to her ass." She snorted. "Extensions, they have to be extensions," she muttered.

April sighed. "Geez, Emma, where do you find these stallions?"

The palomino grinned. "You know me, April. I can't resist a bad colt... plus this one is really good in bed. You can tag along if you'd like. I'm sure we can find you somebody to date. It's going to be lots of fun!"

April shook her head. "You know I don't like those crazy club scenes. I'll probably just go home for Friday movie night with Fiona and Mickey."

Emma sighed. "You really need to learn to live a little." The waiter walked over with the check. "I've got this."

"I feel bad letting you pay for everything." April frowned as Emma fished some cash out of her pocket and left it on the table.

"No offense, but I don't think you can afford it. Not with Skinflint Stanley as your boss." Emma's expression soured as she mentioned the stallion's nickname.

"Emma!" April scolded.

The palomino held up her hooves in mock surrender. "Alright, sorry. But you know I'm right. He pays you so little it's practically criminal."

"But-" April began.

"Oh look, there's Paul. I'll catch you later." With a quick wave the palomino left her friend behind. She nuzzled her coltfriend and the two trotted off together.

April sighed through her nose and headed back home.

---

Nightfall found three ponies in front of the holoscreen.

"So, what are we watching tonight?" April asked. She was sitting on the couch and watching Mickey fiddle with the controls.

"Some old indie number that Mickey found. You'll have to ask her about the story, darling," Fiona said. She was lying next to April on the sofa.

Mickey stood up, grunting as a few of her joints popped. "When a movie has scantily clad Amazonian mares, who cares about the plot?" She sat down on the floor in front of Fiona.

Fiona repositioned herself so that her head was resting on Mickey's shoulder. "It depends on what sort of plot you're talking about, love."

Mickey chuckled and started the movie.

April sighed contentedly. Mickey had been right about the movie's story line not being very good, but just relaxing here watching it with her friends made it worthwhile... At least for a little while she could forget about her dreams, crazy old stallions and their philosophical nonsense, and even her own frayed sanity.

The screen flickered once, then again. The three dimensional image shifted. It was replaced by a very different looking forest that crept forward out of the screen. April blinked but it only became more and more vivid. The detail was far beyond even the most high end holoscreens, which this was not.

The forest filled the room, surrounding them with the sounds of creatures shifting in the underbrush and leaves rattling in the twisted trees. The trees themselves seemed almost alive, reaching out for them with claw-like branches. April shut her eyes, but that only made things worse. It was so vivid that she thought she could smell the forest. It was no illusion. The smell of damp earth, rotting leaves, and the odd fragrance of the spotted blue flowers growing in a patch nearby assaulted her nostrils. She looked over at her two companions. Her chest heaving, Fiona glanced around wildly as she clutched desperately to her marefriend. Mickey's eyes were dull and her body wracked with tremors. There was a loud popping noise, and the forest disappeared in a blink. The three ponies huddled together, staring at the holoscreen as smoke curled up from its electrical panel. The only scent left in the air was the acrid stench of melting plastic.

---

April sat at the table staring numbly at the apple sitting in front of her. Fiona had given it to her wordlessly a few moments ago. April looked over at her landlady. She was wearing her apron inside out and her hooves shook as she prepared tea for the two of them. Fiona placed a cup in front of her tenant and sat down across the table, cradling a cup of her own in her hooves. For a while they stared at each other over the steaming mugs.

"S-so... about last night," Fiona stuttered. She rubbed her hooves along her arms, as if cold. She stared at April pleadingly, even desperately, seeking confirmation.

"I saw it too," April said simply.

Fiona sighed heavily. "Mickey won't say anything. I was worried I really was crazy. Maybe we all are. A gas leak, group hypnosis; nothing fits. What is this world coming to?"

"I saw something the other day at the studio. I thought I was crazy..." April whispered.

Fiona was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice shook. "The other day, I saw something in the canal. It was there for only a moment, but I saw it. There was an underwater city..."

"Scary."

Fiona looked at April, fear shining in her eyes. "What is going on?"

April looked away. "I-I don't know..." She turned back to the older mare "But maybe I know someone who does. Do you know anything about a place 'where foals visualize their dreams'?"

Fiona shook her head.

April sighed. "Maybe Charlie will know. He has work today, so I should head down to the cafe and ask him."

Fiona nodded absently. She turned to stare out the kitchen window, eyes distant.

April got up and headed out, leaving an untouched cup of tea and an uneaten apple behind her.

---

Walking across the central axis and past 'that weird water pump that kind of looks like the Death Star' (as Emma put it), April found herself in front of the Fringe Cafe. The little bar catered mainly to the various groups of backpackers who passed through Newport on their expeditions. April didn't mind working here. It was a nice place—at least it ranked 'nice' on the scale with 'begging for food' at the bottom and 'just scraping by' at the top. Being a waitress was not what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

Walking inside, she found Charlie in his usual spot—polishing glasses at the bar. He had his back to her, and she could see the muscles in his shoulders move underneath his uniform as he worked. Despite his bulk, the stallion was agile and could mix one mean cocktail. He had a deep brown coat, and kept his black mane tied up in a ponytail. Charlie was the first pony April met when she arrived in Newport, and had been looking out for her ever since.

"Hi, Charlie," she said with a smile.

The stallion put down the glass and polishing cloth he was holding and turned around to face her. He grinned. "April. Nice to see you, girl. I went to wake you up this morning, but you must have been out cold."

"Yeah... I had trouble sleeping." April shifted from hoof to hoof. "Have you seen Cortez around?"

Charlie's eyebrows rose. "As a matter of fact, I have. He was asking for you yesterday."

April tilted her head. "He asked about me?'

The stallion nodded. "He wanted to know where you were. He had a message for you. I told him to give it to Emma, since she was more likely to bump into you."

"I got it, but I have no idea what it means," she said.

He nodded sagely. "Cortez can be a little strange."

April took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Do you know where he was going?"

Charlie's eyebrows rose further. "No, but he seemed interested in that poster next to the jukebox. They just put it up the other day." He eyed her critically. "Why do you need to find him?"

April shook her head. "Do you know where foals could, uh, 'visualize their dreams'?"

He shrugged. "Maybe in therapy?"

"I don't think that's it, Charlie."

"Then I don't know," he said.

"Thanks," April said, smiling.

He grinned back. "Anytime, April."

April's stomach growled, reminding her of the breakfast she had missed. She glanced down at the candy jar sitting on the bar. 'I'm sure Stanley won't mind if I dig gently into his supply.' She fished out a few pieces.

Charlie looked up from his work just in time to see her pop one into her mouth. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

She spit the candy back into its wrapper and looked at him. "Why?"

"Stanley's really mad at whoever has been stealing all the candy out of the jar lately. He's gone a little crazy. He bought those at a novelty shop. They're laxatives. He says he wants to 'teach that thief a lesson'."

April turned green and fought the urge to wipe her tongue. "Thanks for the warning." She stuffed the candy into her pocket, not feeling particularly hungry anymore. Grimacing, she trotted over to inspect the poster Charlie had mentioned.

"What you doing here?" April looked at her boss, seated in his usual location at the end of the bar. The old onager was fat, with a grey and reddish brown coat. He had shaved off his mane in order to hide his thinning hair. It didn't do much to improve his appearance. He scowled at her, jowls flopping like a bulldog's as he spoke with his thick accent. "You ain't working, are you? I don't have my employees working so long. Go, get sleep!" He waved a hoof at her while the other remained wrapped around his drink.

She sighed. "But I'm just-"

He waved his arms at her, sloshing some of his drink onto the bar. "Damn, mare. Do I have to foalsit you?"

She bared her teeth at him. "It's nice to see you too, Stanley. No, I'm not working today. I just came by to-"

He held out a hoof. "Oh, please don't say those two words when I'm around. I don't think my ulcers can take it."

"What, 'you' and 'nice'?"

Stanley gave a fake laugh. "That's funny. No, 'working', and 'not'. Don't use those two words in the same sentence." He shuddered. "Damn. Gives me the creeps even when I say them."

April chuckled to herself. 'I know a word that he hates even more.' She smiled sweetly. "I'd like to get paid, Stanley."

There was a lovely thunking sound as the stallion's head hit the bar. "Damn mare, don't you know I have a migraine already? 'Paid'. Damn, why do they have to make that word sound so.... obscene?" He looked up at her and sighed. "Listen. Why don't you leave old Stan here alone, huh? It make me feel a whole hell of a lot better. Shoo, shoo, be a good little filly, hmm?"

Her smile widened. "I'd still like to get paid, though."

He groaned in pain. "Mighty Manu, mare. You sure know how to rub it in. Damn. Yeah, alright, you got your time sheet?"

Of the few things April carried around with her regularly—a matchbook, her cash card, a small photo of her friends—her time sheet was one of them. She gave it to him, still smiling. "Here you are. My time sheet."

Stanley winced like a pony with a hangover. "Don't say that word too loud, sweetheart. You're killing me." He looked at the piece of paper and frowned. "Hmm. What's this? Uh? No. No-no-no. Did I sign this? What I thinking?" He stared at it for a while.

April tapped her hoof impatiently. "So?"

"At least it doesn't look like it's been forged. Thanks."

The smile left her face and she pulled her ears back. "Thanks? Where's my money?"

Her boss had already turned back to his drink. "Oh, you ain't getting it now. Next week, honey. I write this down in my ledger, don't you worry your head from it."

'Oh no, I'm not falling for that again. I know what to do.' She stamped her foot. "Forget that, I quit."

He dropped his drink and wheeled around to face her. "You're quitting? You can't quit. You work for me! Nobody quits this job, honey!"

She frowned at him, but inside she was chortling. "I can quit, and I'm quitting. I quit."

He reeled from each word like it was a physical blow. "Damn, mare—you know how hard it is to find ponies to take a crappy job like this one? I need you!"

"Just as much as you need the money?"

He squirmed in his chair for a bit, then sighed. "All right, I give you your damn money. What was it—fifty bucks?"

"Try three-hundred and seventy-five, Stanley. Cash"

He nodded. "Right, three-hundred..." He blinked. "Are you sure? I pay you guys way too much. Alright, gimmie your cash card."

April gave it to her boss—he ran it through his data pad and returned it to her. "Thank you, Stanley," she said sweetly.

He grunted. "Fine. Sure. Whatever." He blinked. "Hey, just a minute. You free tonight? You wanna pull a shift? Sandra, she out sick, and I need a replacement pronto. How about it?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I need the cash." 'I should be able to find Cortez before then...'

Stanley nodded and turned back to his drink. "Great, hon. I'll see you here later. Don't forget." He blinked and peered into the bottom of his cup with a puzzled expression. Apparently he hadn't noticed he'd been sloshing it around while he was talking. April resumed her search for the poster.

She finally found it next to the cafe's antique (read as 'convincing fake') jukebox. April stared at the poster with her head to one side. It featured a collection of random abstract images and the title "Roma Gallery presents 'Growing Pains'—An exhibition by and for kids and teenagers." She picked up a complementary student pass and looked at it. The gallery was near the Watertown Bridge—she'd have to take the subway to get there. April sighed. It was going to be a long day.

---

One long subway ride and a short walk later, April found herself in front of the Roma Gallery. When she entered, she found the security guard asleep at his post. She rolled her eyes and left her ticket on the desk in front of him. His snores echoed through the tiny gallery as she made her way over to Cortez, one of the only two other visitors at the exhibit. He was staring intently at a painting, but looked over at her as she approached. "About time you showed up," he said.

April stopped in her tracks and frowned at him. "About time? I spent more than-"

Cortez interrupted her by pulling her over to stand in front of the painting he had been staring at. "Mira—this painting right here. Look."

She sighed through her gritted teeth, but looked closer at the artwork. It was done in colored squares, and very abstract—an oil painting with two ponies locked in an embrace. Only the stallion's face was visible, and his eyes were sad. It was quite well done for a foal. "Who's the artist?"

"A boy named Warren Hughes. Not so long ago, I knew him and his family quite well. But he doesn't paint anymore..." Cortez's voice was heavy with sorrow.

"What am I looking for?" She asked after they stared at it a while longer.

"What do you see?"

"I see a statement on loss. The stallion, he's hugging a mare and by all rights should be happy. But he's not. He's already mourning the loss of her, even though that's still somewhere in his future." She smiled. All those art classes were paying off.

Cortez promptly stomped on her pride. "Statements! Who cares about statements? Tell me what you see!"

She glared at him. "I see art," she said flatly.

He nodded. "Art, yes. And beyond that?"

She furrowed her brow. "Technique?"

He shook his head. "Technique only allows us to create art. Beyond technique, beyond art, what is there?"

April sighed heavily. 'I really hate this philosophical talk but... if he can really help me, I have to try.' She looked at the painting again. "Truth?" she asked tentatively.

He smiled widely. "Exactly! A deeper truth. This painting, this particular work of art, speaks a deeper truth. It has a soul."

She looked at him quizzically. "How can a painting have a soul?"

"It has a soul because it has an identity, it has a heart. The memory of this painting will survive beyond this moment. It will linger in your mind and become part of the tapestry of your subconscious. It has made a lasting impression on you, and you're not quite sure why."

'Oh-kay then...' She sighed. "What is your point?"

"For something to be real, to be truthful, the artist must transfer—shift—part of him or herself into the work, to transcend the illusion and reach for the truth of art."

"And what is the 'truth of art'?"

He shrugged. "Who knows? I've been asking myself that question for years."

All the emotions April had kept bottled up overflowed. "Excuse me? You don't even know? Then what's this all about, all these questions and lectures on 'truth' and 'illusion'? For that matter, why did you ask me to come down here in the first place?"

"Because-"

She growled as realization dawned on her. "Actually, you didn't even ask me to come down! I spent all day traveling all over Newport, deciphering a cryptic message, spending money I don't have on a subway ticket, only to stand here and listen to... to..." She trailed off, disgusted with herself.

"You saw something. A waking dream you can't explain. That's why you're here, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"My point about art and truth is this, April: some things look real, but are not. And other things may appear to be of no consequence at all, but are in fact invaluable. Like Warren's painting here. And your dreams. There is both truth and illusion in dreams and in the images they create. The problem is in sorting one from the other."

April's heart fluttered against her rib cage. "You're telling me my dreams are true?"

"I'm telling you there are things afoot and that you need help sorting the truth from the illusions. My help."

"Well, that figures," she muttered darkly.

He smiled at her. "Good. I was hoping you would understand."

She glared at him, her voice increasing in volume as she spoke. "No, actually I didn't understand a single word. You talk about art, truth, dreams, and illusions, but I still don't understand what they have to do with me!" She sighed, then continued at a more reasonable volume. "There are things happening, yes, and I came here because I thought... maybe you're crazy enough to believe me. That you could help me, I don't know, sort through the debris and come up with a plausible explanation." Something wet hit her leg. She rubbed her face and found that she was crying. "But no, you tell me my dreams might be true, that I need your help, and that things are 'afoot'." She laughed sharply. "Who even says 'afoot'? I've never heard anybody use that word before. 'There are things afoot'."

He smiled at her again. "Esta bien... I understand your reluctance to believe me, señorita. But I cannot convince you here. Meet me tomorrow." He looked at her as if she were a small foal he was taking care of, smiling as she stumbled along learning to walk. It made her blood boil.

"No. Not again," she said simply.

He looked at her like she was a little filly throwing a temper tantrum. "But you will. Because you are compelled to do so by your own curiosity. Because you are drawn to mystery. And because, despite your skepticism, you believe I have the answers to all your questions. Yes?"

"No," she said icily, "I don't care. I just want to have a normal life: no nightmares, no visions, and no strangers telling me that 'things are afoot'. Comprende, amigo?"

Cortez wasn't paying attention. He was looking over her head at the clock on the wall. "Ay Dios mio, is that the time? I've got to run, señorita Ryan. I'll see you tomorrow then?"

April stamped her foot. "I said-"

"Goodbye." Cortez left quickly, his long legs making short work of the distance.

She stared after him, desperately wanting to kick something. She snorted angrily. 'Well, that went swimmingly. And I still have a shift tonight...' She would have to do her best not to snap the heads off of any of the customers, at least until they had paid.

---

A sour expression and an equally foul mood did not help April Rain get tips. She was well into her shift, and feeling every bit of the exhaustion from her adventure. Stanley had her working the floor, tending to the handful of customers. Emma had arrived not too long ago with her friend, Marcus. They were having a lively debate on one of the cafe's sofas. Charlie was busy with a few of the regulars at the bar.

The old jukebox was in full swing, belting out old-time music at an almost painful volume. As April passed by it carrying a tray of drinks, the sound began to fade in and out, like one of those retro radios. She glanced at it and her mouth fell open as the entire machine began to glow a bright white. A tiny creature popped out of it. It looked like a miniature pony, but it had butterfly wings and antennae like an insect. The thing was singing a cheery tune, eyes shut tight. April dropped her tray. The sound startled the little pony and it glanced around at the dumbstruck patrons. It squeaked, and disappeared in a flash of light.

The room was silent, save for the sound of one of the patrons emptying the contents of his beer glass onto the floor. "I gotta give up drinkin'," he slurred.

---

---

End of Chapter 1

Author's Note:

The game made you pick between the cafe scene and the movie. To that I say Pfffft! This is a fanfic, why not do both? The ponies in April's world are all normal horse colors, which explains Emma's reaction to a pink mane. An onager is a wild ass from India.

Thanks again to nothingtoseehere for his support.

Comments

[Nharctic]

Excellent, Excellent! The characters are being developed properly, the back story isn't being rushed, and the main character isn't all high and mighty, destined for greatness, blah blah blah.
Anyways, I applaud your grammarz!
Although if you told the story from two points of view, that would be awesome. Like, say, Emma and whomever in the other universe or the like, until they converge.
Cheers and Muffins!
Now, people, ponies: don't be afraid to tell funkyferret what you think!'

[funkyferret]

2182775
Multiple viewpoints would be TLJ2.

Thanks for your support.