A symptom of anxiety is sweating. I may have been exaggerating when I told you I was sweating under pressure. I wasn’t. It was figurative. Birds don’t sweat. Still, I find that expression somewhat useful to describe fear, tension and my fraying nerves. I don’t do well under pressure, that’s why I’m a fan of Winona’s game. Pretending not to speak is easier than dealing with all the expectations and emotions.

I know what you’re thinking. Just wing it, right? Har, har.

Perhaps we’d mesh well together, you know what they say about birds of a feather? Alright, I’ll stop, but my situation really is out of my depth for me. I sit here unsure of myself. What will happen to me? Will it be the same? Will it be different?

In the other times I would wait for the poor pony to kick the bucket or move away and forget about me. I had the luxury of no strings attached. I was once a pet of a rich noblemare. When she passed away I became the pet of her daughter. I made my escape very soon after for they were suspicious of my lifespan. I wanted them to think it was long, but not forever. That would throw in some complications.

The situation with Twilight was unique. There was an undercurrent of suspicion as if we were both holding back something from one and another. It feels like now that my secret was out, we couldn’t be sure of each other. As if suddenly there was a stranger in the house and we were awkwardly dancing around the issue by meshing ourselves in routine. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, Twilight was a very straightforward mare. Tends to overthink things sometimes but afterwards it would all be on track.

The waiting was killing me.

“Would you pass the analytical kit? The usual one, please.”

I silently fluttered across the room and grabbed the somewhat heavy briefcase containing the equipment. Straining hard I plopped it on her desk and then settled on the perch overlooking her desk. She gave me a grateful smile, but it was tinged with some other emotion I couldn’t identify. I heard the clinking of glassware as she shifted the case with her magic and sorted them on the desk.

When everything was in the right place she sat in silence.

The sound of blood pulsing through my ear holes was deafening.

“I—“ she began but stopped herself. I shifted on my perch, the wood suddenly feeling uncomfortable to me.

“I think we should tell the others,” she said finally. I tried not to sigh. I knew this was coming.

“I don’t know, Twilight… That seems like a big risk.”

“You’re the only one that calls me that.”

“Call you what?”

“Twilight. Everypony wants to call me Princess or Princess Twilight, excluding my friends of course.” She sighed, her gaze growing distant. “Sometimes they call me Princess Twilight as well.”

I fluffed my feathers, caught off-guard by the question.

“Well that’s what you are now,” I replied, my voice sounded so loud. I was still unused to using it. “Just like I’m an owl and you say ‘this is my owl’. When they call you Princess, they’re simply calling you as you are.”

Twilight bit her lip and rocked in her stool.

“The problem is I don’t want to be a Princess. I don’t like the attention. I don’t want to be treated differently.” She shrugged self-consciously. “That’s why I like doing experiments down here. I do research and I study magic. It’s the only time I feel normal.”

Her eyes were wide and brimming with unshed tears. I felt a lump in my throat.

“Is it foolish? Am I just running away from reality?”

My beak twitched. “If it makes you feel any better,” I answered gently. “I’ve been running away all my life. I used to think it was because I wanted to find something new, learn something different, go from place to place without any consequences, but to be honest? It might be because I was afraid.”

Twilight twitched, her face bore a slight look of surprise.

“Afraid? What could you be afraid of?”

“Of being too attached. Of not letting go. Of staying around long enough so the feelings catch up with me.” I looked away, peering through the small window out to the night sky. “I think I was successful to some degree at least.”

Finding memories was hard. Information was easy to keep track of. Numbers, facts and figures were things I used constantly. Memories of ponies and places were a little harder. Especially the rough ones. I wanted to whisk them away. Some of them came back and would surprise me, but in time they all faded away. I knew if I waited long enough, engage in something new, it’d eventually be replaced. I didn’t need the sadness. It was unproductive.

“I remember some places,” I chuckled slightly as I reminisced about a few of my past owners. “Some ponies too. But here…” I tapped my chest with the tip of my primary. “I don’t feel anything. It worries me sometimes, but I think it’s for the best.”

I glanced back to see Twilight shaking. I heard the faint pitter patter of water hitting the tabletop. Was she crying? Oh no.

“Oh, oh dear. Don’t cry,” I said, dropping down to the desk. I approached Twilight cautiously. Did I say something wrong? “I’m so sorry. I’m not used to talking to others, you see, apart from the others like me. Sometimes we get together and we tell each other things. I don’t think I’ve seen any of us cry though… We just talk. About our little world…” I trailed off unsure of what to say next. “Are you okay?” Gosh that sounded weak.

There was a couple more sniffs and the quick swipe of a hoof.

“Yes,” she said weakly, pushing away from the desk. “And no.”

She reached over with a hoof and patted me on the head. I could feel the slight dampness of her hoof, even through all my feathers.

“Are you sure?” I ventured. I was afraid of making her cry again.

“Yes,” Twilight reaffirmed. “And I think that we are alike in some ways, different in others.” She sighed. “There’s something about you. Your voice sounds young but the words you speak seem so much more older. You also sound distant, like you’re unused to having a friend.”

“A friend?” I queried. How did that topic spring up? “I don’t quite understand.”

Twilight gave me a look that I think I will remember for a long time.

Finally she nodded.

“Yes. I think that’s the problem.”

Author's Notes:

Ca-Caw!

I'm a bird.

Or so I was lead to believe.

Next Chapter: Uploaded on the same day as this one. Sneaky author, you.

As always, my indivisible readers unless mitigating circumstance might otherwise allow for readers, thanks for reading!