How do you discern dreams from reality? Fact from fiction? You wake up in a strange new world, with next to no memories. Everyone you meet tells you this world is real, but your dreams say otherwise. Which are you supposed to believe?
Your life was going... as well as could be expected. At least, you think it was... When you wake up near a forest with most of your memories forgotten, how do you recover? As you attempt to find your place as a Gryphon in this new world of ponies, you struggle to discern the difference between reality and dreams. Are your ‘dreams’ speaking the truth, and you’re really a human, in a coma in another world, or are they simply recurring nightmares, trying to scare you? Your new friends tell you to ignore your dreams, but… what if your dreams are right, and you already have friends and family who are worried, and want you back? Who are you supposed to believe? The voices of ghosts in your mind, or the voices of those in front of you?
This is my first second person story, so let me know what to do to improve! I haven’t seen a second-person fic yet with a Gryphon for a main character, so… Yeah! Figured I’d give it a shot. I wanted to try something interesting with world exploration, and thought a second-person view would be cool for that. Here’s hoping I don’t disappoint! (But if I do, tell me how so I can improve! Thanks!)
Cover art is temp, until I can get a 'real' one done, but this is done by Sayluh on DeviantArt. She has very reasonable prices, so go check her out!
Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction, not intended to gain any profits. I do not own any rights, properties, etc, of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. All proper ownership, rights, etc belong to Hasbro. Please support MLP: FiM and Hasbro.
It’s said that when you’re in a coma, you can sometimes hear everything around you; that you’re subconsciously aware of what everyone around you is saying, whether it be uplifting words of encouragement, or a doctor coming with bad tidings. Right now, though, you’re not sure if that’s true or not, because you couldn’t hear anything around yourself. Everything was pitch black. No sounds, no smells, no sensations. At least, you think you’re in a coma…
After all, there was only blackness everywhere you looked. Nothing was happening, and you felt tired, so it couldn’t be a dream, could it? You’re not sure what to think.
Thankfully, that lasted for maybe five minutes, if you had to guess the time. You take the thanks back, however, as pain lances through your arms and legs, your body instinctively curling up into the fetal position. You don’t know how long it takes for the pain to fade to a dull throbbing, but it sure feels like it's taking too damn long.
When the pain fades enough to be tolerable, you slowly open your eyes, protesting the bright lights around you. Closing your eyes swiftly, you wonder why it’s so bright. The sun shouldn’t have that much glare, should it?
Still, as you slowly let your eyes adjust to the brightness, lessening the tightness of which you kept your eyes closed, you couldn’t help but wonder, Where am I?
Finally able to tolerate the light, you slowly open your eyes to take a look around. You blink, then do a double take as you find yourself outside in the middle of a forest. “Okay... How the hell did I get here? The last thing I remember is… is...”
Sighing, you scratched the back of your head absently, before pausing, your hand still in your hair. You scratch very slowly, frowning as you concentrate on the feeling. You’re not sure what it is, but it feels… off. You bring your arm back down, only to stare at the claw in front of your eyes. You flex it slowly, trying to figure out what was wrong. It was scaled, and at the end of each digit were deadly sharp talons several inches long.
The more you flex them, though, the more you wonder what’s wrong. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with them. They’re not hurting, or stiff. So why do they feel off?
After staring at it for several long moments, you blink as you feel your tail twitch. Wait a second... Tail? Turning around, you look at your back, wondering if you had just imagined it. Belatedly, you notice that you’re sitting on your hind legs, making you a four-legged... Something. As you looked at your tail, you wonder, Is this just a dream? It doesn’t feel like a dream. But then why can’t I remember anything? But if I can’t remember anything, then why does something feel wrong? Just... stay calm, and you’ll wake up in no time. Yeah.
Having kept yourself from freaking out, at least for the time being, you analyze the rest of your body methodically, noting that you had two large, dark blue wings tucked against the sides of your body. The back half of your body some sort of a feline, since your hind paws had retractable claws, while the front of your body was covered in feathers. Frowning, you think aloud, “Okay, think. An eagle and a lion? Crap, think... Is that a Hippogriff, or a-”
You were jerked out of your thoughts when you heard a young kid shouting behind your back, “Sissy, sissy, look! It’s a Gryphon! A Gryphon’s at our picnic! Can I go play with her?!”
That sure got your attention! You sat straight up, your back stiff as your eyes flew wide open. You turn around slowly, your pupils dilating before you passed out from the sight before you. Not fifteen feet away were two ponies, both of whom were grey, which was a perfectly acceptable coat color for a horse. However, what overwhelmed your senses were how abnormally large their eyes were compared to their heads, as well as how the larger one answered the little one in plain English. “Muffin, I’ve told you before that it’s not nice to point at other ponies while ye-”
.o.O.o.
... And he’s been in this state ever since he was brought in, a male voice said, his voice strangely muffled. We’re not sure if he’s going to wake up or not. Has his relatives been contacted yet?
You realize that you’ve woken up, but only barely. You can’t seem to open your eyes, no matter how hard you try. After a moment, you realize that you must be drugged in some way, shape or form, because you can sense the pain in the background of your mind. Trying to ignore it once more, you concentrate your efforts on listening to the conversation around you.
No sir, we’re still looking for identification, a female voice replied, somewhere off to the left.
I see. Well then, let me kn-
The voice fades out as you slip back into unconsciousness, back into the loving embrace of sleep, though it didn’t seem very restful.
.o.O.o.
When you wake up again, you feel much better than when you woke up before. It was hard to tell just how drugged you were before, and you only noticed now because of their absence. The pain was still there as well, but it was no longer a sharp, stabbing pain, but rather a dull, achy pain, like a small headache. That was driven from your mind, however, when you heard more voices talking, different from before.
“Are you sure you don’t know anything else that could be of use, Miss Hooves?”
Cracking your eyes open, you wince at the bright light, but slowly adjust, and see the same two greyish ponies from before, as well as a tan one, and, after blinking, you realize that it’s wearing glasses, and has an orange afro. You struggle to figure out why that’s a problem, but you can’t seem to remember.
“I don’t know what went wrong!” the grey horse protested, her eyes starting to water. “I told you everything I know! and I were going to our special picnic place, and he was there already, just sitting there.”
“Yeah! And then I told sissy I saw a Gryphon, and asked if I could play with her, and then she turned around and went to sleep, and I said ‘Aww, she’s taking a nap? But I wanted to play!’ And then Dit rushed over to her, and-”
The little one stopped talking as the older sister put her hoof over the other’s mouth. You open your mouth to speak, but instead several coughs come out, your throat completely dry.
As glass is thrust into one of your hands, you blindly start to gulp down the refreshing liquid, your eyes shut tight from the force of your coughs. After draining the glass in seconds, you gasp for breath, grateful that you weren’t hacking out your lungs anymore. When you open your eyes, you see the small purplish-grey horse right in front of your face. “Gah!”
Taken by surprise, you scramble back a little bit, banging your head against the backboard of the bed. As you wince, your claw rushes to cradle the now-throbbing injury, the horse was quick to apologize. “Oops. S-sorry mister, I didn’t mean to startle you! I just wanted to apologize for calling you a girl before. Can you forgive me?”
As you open your eyes again, against the pain, you notice once more how abnormally large their eyes seemed to be. Wait a second… Why do you think their eyes are abnormally large? Were they supposed to be smaller? Why should they be smaller? For that matter, how large were you own eyes?
As you stared into the black, watery depths that were her eyes, you realized that there was no possible way you could remain angry at it. “Y-yeah, sure, whatever.”
You wince from the sudden shout in front of you, as she started to jump around in what appeared to be excitement. “Yay! Thank you! Hey, now that you’re awake, you can play with me now, right? Pretty please?”
The small horse was caught by the older sister, frantically shushing her before looking back to you, smiling nervously. “S-sorry. She gets excited very easily.”
“Don’t worry about it, she’s just a kid,” you mutter back, still too disoriented to be too upset at the child’s energy. “W-where the he-”
You pause, glancing from the older sister to the younger, and then back again, feeling your face heat up slightly as you chastise yourself about almost cursing in front of a kid. “Eheh… Umm, where am I, exactly?”
The tan horse with the strange-looking orange afro frowned for half a second before it disappeared, making you wonder if you imagined it or not. “You’re in Ponyville, Equestria.”
E… questria? Frowning in thought, you try to deconstruct the word. Let’s see… E… electronic? Quest is… straightforward, but ria? The only thing that ria even vaguely reminds you of is a nickname for Maria, but that doesn’t make much sense, considering the circumstances. Then again, your deconstruction of the word didn’t make much sense either, so you focus instead on the town name, only to blink as you forgot what it was already. “Err… Whatville again, sorry?”
“Ponyville!” replied the small horse, grinning widely from underneath the other's wing. “We have a libary, and a carousel that isn’t really a carousel, and a gingerbread house that you can’t eat, and-”
Pony… ville… That… doesn’t help at all. Well frick.
“-and we got a large orchard called Sweet Apples Acre, and a-”
Okay, so based on the town name, you feel it’s safe to assume that these horses weren’t horses, but were ponies instead. Whatever. You weren’t one to judge, so what did it matter? At least, you don’t think you’re one to judge… What exactly was it that you don’t judge?
“Can you fill this out, sir?” the doctor asks, handing you a clipboard and pencil. “If we’re going to be seeing you some more, we’ll need to know more about your medical history, and-”
You grab the pencil with your claw before you look at the clipboard. Time to fill in some knowledge!
You frown as you start to read the lines, however. Your mother’s maiden name? Even if you could remember it, how does that help the doctor treat you? Favourite food? Where do you work? How the heck does any of this help?!
"Is something wrong, sir?" the doctor asks, moving to look over your shoulder. "Ah. Don't remember your mother's maiden name? That's no big deal; you can skip that for now. Wait a second... You haven't filled out your parents names either?"
The silence seems deafening as you struggle to think of how to explain that you don't remember anything without coming across as stupid. Luckily, you don't have to, because the little rambling pony, you guess she is, considering the name of the town, speaks up. “Are you an orphan?”
You open your mouth to answer, when you notice just how strange it feels. Why can’t you feel the ridges of your teeth? You look down so you can see your mouth, before realising that moving your head won’t help you see your mouth.
“Mister?” the pony asks, poking you in the arm. You look towards her, blinking in surprise as she hugs you tightly. “It’s okay, we’re orphans too. We won’t make fun of you.”
An orphan? Are you an orphan? You can’t remember anything about your parents, granted, but then again, you’re struggling to remember anything at the moment.
You look at the little pony before shrugging, not sure what else to say. If you can’t remember, you may as well not say anything, right? Better to stay silent than unintentionally lie, after all.
“Oh,” the doctor says, his face heating up a little. “In that case, I suppose you can’t know much about your family medical history. If you’re going to stay in Ponyville long, we’d advise you to set up a date for some blood work and a general check-up so we can try to see if there’s anything wrong with you. Otherwise, you’re free to go.”
Wait… doesn’t going to the doctor cost money? When you voice your concerns, however, about not having any money, the doctor laughs.
“I don’t know what it’s like where you live, but here in Equestria, healthcare is covered by taxes. Imagine if a disaster happened, and you lost your home? How would you pay to go to the clinic or hospital if you had to worry about where you’re going to live?”
Not only that, you muse, but it would also make the overall health of the citizens healthier, wouldn’t it? If you didn’t have to pay, then you’d go see the doctor when you first feel sick to get the right cure, and thus get better much quickly, hopefully. Worry about money and you’d wait longer, and then it might also take longer to get better.
“Anyway,” the doctor continues, snapping you back to reality, “if you aren’t going to be staying in Ponyville long, then I wish you sun-speed on your journey.”
You nod, not sure what else to say, seeing as how you can’t remember anything important. Still, you thank the doctor on the way out, not wanting to be rude.
You make your way outside, moving slowly as you concentrate on how you’re walking. Something feels off, but you can’t quite pinpoint what it is. Luckily, the gray pegasus from before shouts her suggestion for what might be the cause. “Dinky, you get down from his back right now!”
“But he can give me a real gryphon-back ride!” the pony on your back protests, now clutching your neck tightly. “I can’t pass up the opportunity! I’d regret it for the rest of my life!”
“I am so sorry,” the pegasus stammers, hovering next to you as she attempts to grab her sister. “She means no offence!”
Offence? You’re still trying to figure out how she got on your back without you noticing, and when! You shrug, only to have your wings flex instead.
You blink, staring at the feathered appendages. You noticed them earlier, granted, but that was under extenuating circumstances. You try to shrug again, and like before, your wings respond instead, moving up and down several inches. You try to extend them, and you’re not sure if you should be surprised when they do, though slower than you’d have liked.
“Wee! See, toldja he wouldn’t mind!” the pony on your back said, sticking her tongue out at her sister.
“That doesn’t mean you just hop onto somepony’s back like that without asking!” She turns to you, her eyes boring into yours with a strange intensity. “Please don’t get mad at her!”
Confused at why you would get so mad at a child playing, you instead ask what a gryphon-back ride is supposed to be.
“Oh. Well, uh,” the pegasus replies, ducking her head as her cheeks turn red. “It’s when you take a foal for a flight.”
But if a pegasus can fly as well, why isn’t it called a pegasus-back ride, then? Confused, you ask, only to get laughed at by the ‘foal’. You belatedly remember that a foal is the term for a young horse or, in this instance, pony. “Cause Gryphons are bigger and cooler and more funner than pegasuses, duh.”
“It’s pegasi, Dinky, not pegasuses!” her sister whinnies, her cheeks puffing out in what you assume is indignation. “I’ve told you a billion times!’
“Nu-uh!” the foal retorts, sticking her tongue out. “If you told me a billion times, then I’d be old by now.”
You can’t help but laugh at the young one’s audacity, quickly siding with her in the argument. The pegasus isn’t amused, however. “So what? You said you love it when I take you for rides, and now all of a sudden I’m not? You said I give great gryphon-back rides!”
“Yeah, but you’re not, you know, a Gryphon!” the foal points out in perfect logic.
You have to agree with the child. You explain to her sister that while she might be cute, being a Gryphon, you are bigger, and more powerful. Not to mention cooler.
“C-cute?” she replies, a blush forming on her face.
If that weren’t enough to make you realise what you just said, her sister pipes up too. “You think my sissy is cute?”
Before you can even open your… beak? That’s what it is, right? If you don’t have teeth, then that’s the only thing that makes sense. You promise yourself to find a mirror as soon as possible, if only to remind yourself what you look like. Regardless, before you can explain yourself, your vision suddenly turns pink. Bright pink.
You nearly fall on your back in shock, but beating your wings a few times helps you keep your balance, allowing you to fall back on all fours. Before you can ask who the strange pink mare was, and how she appeared out of thin air, you realise that she’s already talking. Or perhaps rambling is the better word… Yes, rambling is definitely the right word...
Author's Blurb: So yeah, just let me know if you think the 'silent protagonist' is/will work out, or if you'd rather 'you' have actual speaking lines. I'm aiming to keep the chapters short, to help encourage me to write more often and update more frequently.Sorry if it's too short...
Oh. My. God. Does she ever shut up?! Seriously, she’s just been going on and on and on ever since she tried to give you a heart attack! She failed murder attempt number one, and now she’s on number two? Death by talking. That’s a new one.
Wait… what the heck is ‘God’, that you’re swearing by it? Shouldn’t you be swearing by uh… think. You know it starts with a t...
“So I’ll see you there okay bye!” the pink menace says, before running off. Finally! Now if only-
“Wait a second,” she says, popping back in front of you.
Gah! Will she ever stop doing that?!
“Nope!” she answers cheerfully, before narrowing her eyes. “You’re not one of those meanie-head McGrumpy pants chicken kitties, are you? Huh? Well are ya, punk?”
A… chicken kitty? You think about it for a second, before concluding that, while very basic, that was a fairly accurate description for what you looked like. Except that chickens aren’t blue. Or cats.
“Hey! Don’t be a meanie head!” the foal on your back pipes up, resting her forehooves on your head. “He’s a nice blue chicken kitty! He’s gonna take me on a real gryphon-back ride, so be nice!”
“Oh really?” the pink pony asks, thrusting her head into yours.
You nod, though you’re quick to add that you have to remember how to fly first, but yes, you will take the foal on a ride.
“Oh my gosh! You mean you don’t remember anything?” the pink pony exclaimed, her eyes growing abnormally wide. “Your name, your favourite kind of cake, anything?”
You shake your head before shrugging, not entirely sure why knowing your favourite kind cake is important, but what do you know? Oh, right… Nothing. Derp derp. Oh hey, look, a muffin!
“Here,” the pink pony says, offering a blueberry muffin to you. “You need a cheering up snack more than I do. Oh! I know! You should totally go and talk to Twilight! She’ll know a super duper spell that’ll get your memories back and then you’ll know your name and then you’ll know-”
Oh no. No, no, no, nonono! You are not going to let her start rambling again! You have to escape! Gotta look around, have to find a-
There! You’re passing an open door! Dive in and slam the door! Success!
“E-hem. Can I help you?” a feminine voice inquires, clearing her throat gently.
“Hai Miss Rarity!” the foal says from your back. You can’t see her, but you guess that she’s waving energetically, since she’s swaying back and forth slightly on your back. “We’re runnin from Pinkie Pie!”
That’s her name? The pink you can understand, but pie? Why was she asking you about your favourite cake when her last name is pie? That doesn’t make much sense.
“Well, I just ask about cake first, because I’ve noticed that most ponies actually like cake a lot more at parties, so I just start with cake for that, and also because starting with pie just because it’s in my name would be kind of vain, and ponies-”
For the love of… How did she get inside already?! And she’s… drinking tea? Wait, how did Ditzy beat you too? Is there some sort of time bubble around this house or something?
“Pinkie dear, you’re overwhelming our uh, guest,” the white unicorn said, tugging the pink pony back to the tea table.
You look to see who else is there, and see Ditzy holding a teacup, a light blush on her face as she looks at you, before turning away again to face a purple… Huh. She has a horn and wings. What the heck is she?
“I beg your pardon?” the purple pony asks, raising an eyebrow.
You can feel your face heat up as you realise something. You just said that last thing out loud, didn’t you? Luckily, the foal on your back isn’t even phased by the awkwardness abounding in the room, speaking up without hesitation.
“Hai Miss Twilight! This is Chicken Kitty! He losted his memories, so we need you to help him find them. Have you seen any lying around? I think they might be, ah, blue, like his feathers.”
“Don’t be silly, Dink, they’d clearly be silver, like his eyes,” Ditzy counters, taking a nibble on a scone. “Oh wow! These are really good, Rarity!”
“Well thank you, darling,” the white unicorn replies, bouncing the bottom of her hair with a hoof. Okay, so the white one is Rarity, and the purple one is Twilight. Oh! Like when… Okay, you were starting to get it now. Ponies are named after physical aspects. So that means… white is a rare fur color, maybe? Dinky is smaller than normal, maybe? And Ditzy is-
*Crash*
“Um, sorry! I’ll clean it up,” Ditzy apologises, her face reddening as she grabs a brush and a pan.
Well, at least your name theory is mostly correct, though being accident prone isn’t exactly being ditzy, but whatever. That’s just semantics.
“I don’t know,” Pinkie says, tapping her chin with a hoof. “He looks more like a creame-colored memory guy to me.”
At this point, you don’t give a flying feather what color they are, just so long as they’re found, dangit! What does it take?!
“Oh, sorry darling, I didn’t mean to forget you,” Rarity says, interrupting your internal ranting. “Would you care for some tea and biscuits?”
Tea? Oh, well that would depend if it’s Earl Grey, Chai, or some other flavour.
Rarity blinks before smiling a bit wider. “Earl Grey, of course. Cream or sugar?”
You ask for some cream, before thanking her for her hospitality. It’s only been who knows how long since you’ve had a good cup of tea.
“Sadly, that’s more true than you think,” Ditzy says, sighing. Her ears droop as she continues, “You know, with the amnesia. Is there anything you can do to help, Tw- er, Princess Twilight?”
Wait a second. Princess Twilight? She’s a princess? Then why are you getting flashbacks to a weird, shadowy thing with a hand for hair? Must be something wrong with your memories. Err, aside from the amnesia, that is.
The purple pony huffs, before taking a sip of tea to calm herself. At least, you assume it’s to calm herself. It’s one of the reasons for drinking tea, after all. Aside from the delicious taste, that is. “Ditzy, what do I have to do to get ponies to just call me Twilight, like before?”
Wait, the princess thing was new? How the heck does that work? Aren’t you born into it? And why the heck does she have a horn and wings? Does that make her a unisus? A pegacorn? A unipegacorn? A pegicornisus?
Ugh. Why does everything have to be so complicated?
“Because if everything were easy, life would be pretty dull, wouldn’t it?” the pink pony pondered aloud, grinning at you. “When things are complicated, it makes you think!”
Like figuring out how the heck she knew what you were thinking?
Pinkie only laughs as your question. “Nopey-mopey! You’re just really easy to read! So what’s confusing you? Twilight? Well duh. She’s an alicorn, silly! You know, like Celestia and Luna?”
You blink, looking from pony to pony, ignoring the menace on your back that’s been spreading crumbs all over your coat and feathers. Who’s Celestia and Luna?
Everypony stops what they’re doing and stare at you. Great. You can tell that this conversation is going to take quite awhile...
You give up, you decide with a whimper as you massage your head with your talons. It just doesn’t make sense! How the heck do two ponies move the sun and moon?! It just… How?!
“Magic, duh!” the little menace on your back chirps, before devouring yet another scone. Somehow, you just know that it’s going to take a long time for the migraine to abate if that’s all the explanation you’re going to get.
You grope for your tea cup, taking an eager mouthful of the hot, soothing liquid. Opening your eyes again, you do your best to relax, though you’re conscious of the fact that you’re larger than everypony else, if only by a bit. Looking to the winged-unicorn, you ask, “So this… Celestia and Luna. Where do they live? Up in the sky somewhere, or-”
Yet more crumbs litter your wings. “No, silly! They, they live in Canterlot! It’s on a mountain!”
Canterlot… The name is familiar, but why? After a second, you dismiss its importance and focus on the important details. Namely, where they live. “A mountain? So, what, you have to climb a billion stairs till you get to the top, and then you’re only allowed to ask a single question?”
“That’s stupid,” Ditzy answers, giggling. “A billion stairs? Anypony would die before they hit half a million! Nah, you just take the train. Or, y’know… fly?”
“Oh.” You take another drink of your tea, draining the cup. Guess you need to learn how to fly, then. The more you think about it, though, you realise you’re overlooking something: taking the train requires currency. Currency that you don’t have, nor know what it looks like. Even if you’re going to fly to Canterlot, you’ll still require supplies, and supplies takes money.
You’re going to need a job. Though, with your amnesia, you have no clue what you can do, or if anyone was even looking for temporary help. Do you go to an agency, or is there a notice board with ponies who need help? Well, no time like the present to find out, right?
“So, uh, I don’t suppose you know if anyone is looking for some temporary help, do you? I don’t have anywhere to stay that I remember, and I’ll need enough food to pack for the trip there and back.”
Silence reigns for a moment, before Dinky pipes up from your back. “Um, I has a muffin I’ve been saving for a snack if that’ll help. Oh! Sissy, he could sleep on our couch, right?”
“I-I suppose he could.”
Oh no, her face is turning red! What is she embarrassed about, you wonder. Is her house a mess? Is it really small? Is it because you were looking for something nice to say and the first thing you could think of was ‘cute’? Why couldn’t you say something more neutral, like… like Hey, I really like your mane. That would have been a much better option, right? You were just trying to cheer her up, that’s all.
Right?
“Actually, I could use your help,” your hostess speaks up, smiling. “I do not get many opportunities to obtain male models, and I have some styles I want to try on you. Assuming, of course,” she adds, chuckling as she looks away, bouncing her mane, “that you’re interested. I don’t want to pressure you or anything. I know that many stallions would rather not help with something that is seen as more-”
“I’ll take it!”
You blink, then wonder why you’re so eager. Is it because something about clothes just makes you feel more comfortable, because you want to pay back your hostess for her generosity, or because you think it’ll be an easy job? After a second, you decide it doesn’t matter. After all, you already agreed, so it’s not like you can really back out of it. Well, you can, but you don’t want to. It would just feel too much like going back on your word, and your honor is important to you!
Wait… you remembered something! You might not remember why it’s important to you, but still, something is something! May as well take what you can get.
“Oh wonderful!” your hostess nickers, clapping her hooves together. “Thank you so much, darling. You really have no idea how much I appreciate this!”
The mare’s eagerness surprises you a little, but that just solidifies the feeling that you made the right choice. Either she’s a drama queen, or she was really desperate, and considering the refined manner she’s been carrying herself, you doubt it’s the former.
“Do you want to start right away, or do you have things you wish to take care of first?” she asks, setting her tea plate on a counter next to her sink.
You shrug, not really sure what to say. There wasn’t anything pressing, aside from finding more work, so if she was ready to go, may as well get it done, right? Then you’ll have some money already, and can use that to figure out how much food is worth, and use that to figure out how much you need to raise.
“Not re-”
“Yeah-huh!” You ears remind you of your passenger with sharp stabs of pain. “You, you was gonna take me on a real gryphon-back ride!”
“He never said so, Dink,” Ditzy says, poking her sister on her muzzle. “You keep saying so, and he hasn’t said no because he’s a nice guy. Stop pressuring him to-”
“No, it- it’s okay,” you stammer, doing your best to ignore the foal with the watering eyes. “I’m sure it’ll uh… be good exercise!” Sure it’ll be good exercise, considering you don’t remember how to fly. But if you don’t remember before you take her up, she could get hurt! Think of an excuse, quick!
“But I uh, need to stretch my wings first!” you exclaim, grinning nervously. “Yeah, cause it would be horrible to get a wing cramp in the middle of flying, and I’m sure your sister wouldn’t want you getting hurt because I didn’t stretch.” Your grin feels forced, but you hope the foal won’t really notice.
“Besides,” Ditzy continues for you, still in over-protective sister mode, “you still need to finish your diorama for school, and write all of your spelling words.”
“Aww, but sissy,” the menace says from your back. You can practically hear her eyes growing larger and moist. “By the time I get all of that finished, it’ll be, like… late! What if I don’t get done before it gets dark?”
“Then you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow, silly filly,” her sister replies, doing her best to remain stern, though you wonder just how Dinky is threatened, since Ditzy’s eyes aren’t exactly in sync. “Think of it as incentive to work hard and finish before it gets dark!”
Silly… filly? Okay, so a female child is a filly? You can’t decide if you should facepalm for not remembering something like that, or if it’s obscure. Afterall, a baby Gryphon would be a chick, so-
Hey! You remembered something! Admittedly, it’s nothing really worth celebrating, as it’s nothing personal, but hey! Take your victories where you can get them.
“Um, why are you staring at me?” Ditzy asks, glaring at you slightly.
You blink, before realising that, yes, you were indeed staring at her. “Oh. Um,” you stammer, trying to quickly think for an excuse. As you take a moment to think of an alabi, you notice her eyes. There was something familiar about them... “I was just wondering about your eyes!” you say with a nervous grin, trying not to fidget in place. “Have they always been go-”
Smack!
Did… she just hit you? You blink, then turn your head back to see her shaking in place. “Jerk! Mind your own business!”
Huffing, the mare quickly grabbed her sister before running out the door, leaving you bewildered and befuddled. You turn back to see the remaining three mares frowning at you. “What? If I had known asking about eye color was rude, I wouldn’t have asked!” you say, trying to defend yourself.
Figures. You’ve been here maybe an hour and everypony hates you. If it weren’t due to how friendly they were before, you’d wonder if they were being racist, but that seems improbable.
“Oh really,” the pink pest presses, peering piercingly into your peepers. “That’s all you were asking? Nothing more?”
You nod, scratching a group of annoying feathers on your back. “Yeah… Thought they reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t think of who, so I thought if I found out how rare a color gold eyes are, it might help me remember something.”
Ugh. That’s going to drive you crazy all day now, you just know it!
When the three mares look at each other, you feel the need to continue to defend yourself, wondering if they’re still doubting your words. “What, did you really think I would ask her about her lazy eye? It’s not like having a lazy eye is a big deal.”
At least, you think it’s a lazy eye… Meh, do semantics really matter right now? Point is, you wouldn’t make fun of somepony for something that they can’t control, and that’s that! Only cowards bully others, and you are no coward!
“Not a big deal?” Pinkie pounces on your plump plumage, plundering her poofy hair for a pilfered pastry before popping it in her puckered portal. “Everypony picks on her because of her eye! Well, not everypony everypony, but it sure feels like it sometimes!”
“Pinkie, only roughly 21.3% of Ponyville makes fun of her, and a good number of them are ponies that work night shifts and don’t really know who Ditzy is,” Twilight corrects as she takes a sip of tea.
“That you know of,” you can’t help but snark.
The purple pony blinks, then says, “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.” Why are you so pissed off? “How the heck can you know how many ponies make fun of her, huh?”
“That’s easy,” the pony replies, her horn glowing as a scroll pops into existence before your eyes. “I was studying sociology and the effects of bullying, and that’s when Pinkie told me about Ditzy’s problem with bullies. After that, I created a spell that I cast on Ditzy without her knowing that would tell me who made fun of her, and where they were at the time.
“I would have asked her, of course,” she adds, looking up from the scroll, “but it would have compromised how she normally acts had she known about the spell. She might have purposefully tried to antagonize others, or stay isolated more.
“I tracked the numbers and ponies for several weeks, extrapolated the data, and included three point seven percent, as per the Digit Theorem for chance and other random possibilities, including, but not limited to, spell failure, weather, extenuating circumstances, and other possibilities that might have altered how others interacted with her.
“And before you ask,” she continues, raising an eyebrow. “That includes ponies who talk about her behind her back, where she can’t hear them. And since the Uemanesu Theorem states that mocking occurs behind one’s back more often than to your face, it is fairly safe to conclude that less than ten percent actually make fun of her to her face, and not every day at that, so really, the percent is closer to three or five.”
You blink, your anger completely dissipated as you’re caught off-guard from the scroll of details in front of you about the ‘experiment’, and the matter-of-fact tone the purple pony princess spoke. After rebooting your brain, you ask, “So if ‘only’ five percent of ponies make fun of her, why are you so shocked that I didn’t?”
“Oh, that’s easy!” Pinkie Pie says, waving her hoof back and forth, as if she were in school. “It’s ‘cause the only other Gryphon who’s visited here was a super rude, meanie-head Mcgrumpy pants!”
“Well, I wouldn’t quite word it like that, darling, but yes, that is the general idea,” your hostess says, laughing as her eyes shifted back and forth.
You blink once more as realization dawns upon you. “So what you’re saying… is that you’re all racist. Yeah, I think I’m gonna ask if there’s an embassy around here or something if that’s the case, so I know what my rights are.”
.o.O.o.
You wince as yet another needle pokes you through the black cloth. “Sorry, darling, you’re a lot bigger than the measurements say you are,” Rarity apologises, though her eyes betray their sincerity.
“So you’re racist and sizist? Good to know.”
“That’s just the beginning, darling. I am also sexist, ageist, shapist, completionist, and perfectionist!”
You try not to laugh, you really do. But there’s just something about how she said it that just...
“And you’re do~one!” Rarity sings, twirling you around. “Now tell me that you don’t look absolutely and completely fabulous!”
You blink, taken by surprise at the three Gryphons staring back at you in shock. Atop their heads is a fedora, perked rakishly, sporting several of the Gryphon’s head-feathers as accents. A black tux covered their body, both managing to slim their figure, while also showing off their size.
You aren’t sure how long you just stare at yourself, totally blind-sided at the transformation, but one final needle jabbing you though your feathers jolts you back to your senses. “Well?” Rarity presses, bouncing on her hoof-tips. “Do you like it? Is it comfortable?”
You look at the white mare, biting her lip, and you realise that this isn’t just about clothes. Well, okay, it is about clothes, but it’s not just…
You try to clear your mind, so that you can give clear, objective criticisms. “Well… Um, it’s certainly very… Ah, that is-”
“You hay-ate it!” the mare cries, a lounge couch appearing behind her as she collapses on it. “I knew it! I’m ruined! I’ll never sell another dress again! I’ve become... passé!”
“N-no, no,” you quickly say, rushing over to her. “That’s not true! It’s great! I just don’t know anything about clothes so I feel extremely awkward in trying to say anything good or bad about it because I don’t really know what I’m saying, so I was just trying to take my time in figuring out what to say, so I started stammering because I tend to ramble when I get nervous, and-”
You blink, take a calming breath, before continuing in a more collected, refined manner. “Miss Rarity, you did a wonderful job. Notice, in my rushing all of several steps to you, that my hat is still very securely set upon my head, and the feathers aren’t mussed. The tux did not pull, nor did it tear, as I made sharp, arguably athletic, movements. The tie is not of a choking tightness, nor is it sloppily positioned. Clearly, this tux looks amazing, feels completely natural, and is well-designed.”
Ow. Your beak almost hurts after all of that. You know your brain does! Managing to think that fast is hard! A nap would be great...
