Lyra Heartstrings awoke suddenly from her sleep with a cry. She looked around her darkened room at the shelves and racks and paintings, and another bolt of lightning lit the room, casting the various pieces of furniture in harsh shadow. A second rumble of thunder followed.

“Just thunder,” said Lyra, pulling her blankets back over her and laying back down. She listened to the sound of the rain on the windows and started to go back to sleep- -until she heard a different sound.

She bolted upright again. This time, she knew that the sound had not been thunder, and that she had not dreamt it- -something was moving downstairs. Somepony was in her house.

Lyra jumped out of bed and picked up a large piece of steel pipe that had been leaning against the wall, and then paused, waiting for the sound again. After several seconds, she heard it again- -something clanking together, now in a different location beneath her.

On the room’s writing desk, Lyra had left an unfinished helmet that she had been working on just before sleep, and she picked it up in her magic and pushed it over her head. It left her teal horn exposed, unfortunately, but an incomplete brain bucket was better than no brain bucket at all.

She moved to open the door, but a terrifying thought suddenly occurred to her: what if the sound was not actually an intruder? What if it was a PARASPRITE?

Lyra looked at the pipe, and then gently set it down. Her horn ignited with orange light as she reached under her bed, pulling from beneath a broadsword that was as long as she was tall. That, she determined, was as adequate as she could get.

Slowly, she opened the door and moved silently through the hallways of her silent house, pushing open the doors as she went. As her orange light lit each room, she saw that there was nothing hiding inside, aside from the piles of supplies and incomplete works looming like semi-dead beasts, waiting to once again rise.

Finally, she made her way down the staircase, trying desperately to avoid making it creak. She was shaking with fear, not knowing what to expect. Then, as she neared the edge, she saw it: a light.

Carefully, she poked her head around the doorframe and gasped. There, in her kitchen, was a pony. Lyra could not see anything more than her silhouette; she was framed against the light of the refrigerator, which she was standing in front of and rummaging through.

Lyra breathed a sigh of relief- -it was just an intruder, not an insect. She knew how to deal with ponies. With her magic grasping the handle of her sword, she moved in swiftly and with absolute silence, raising it over her head. As she approached, though, the pony’s head suddenly swiveled almost entirely around, and she looked down at Lyra, a six pound block of cheese in her mouth.

With a cry, Lyra jumped back, fumbling for the light switch. Her hoof clattered against the wall in a panic until she finally found it, and with a strong snap the mercury vapor lamps in the ceiling were flooded with current, illuminating the room.

As soon as the light appeared, Lyra realized that she had not seen what she had thought she had seen. Instead of being turned all the way around, the brown pony was simply looking over her shoulder. She was weirdly flexible, but not an owl.

“Hello,” said the pony, the cheese dropping from her mouth and onto the floor. “Woops,” she said, looking down, and then back up. Lyra did not know why, but the brown, green-haired mare was wearing a frilly green saddle, despite it being the middle of summer. “Nice Zweihander. You must be Leera Heartstrings. You are bluer than I expected.”

“I’m not blue,” snapped Lyra. “I’m GREEN. Teal, in fact. Possibly turquoise. And it’s pronounced ‘Lyra’! Who are you and what are you doing in my house, eating all my cheese?”

“I’m Toaster,” said Toaster, as though it were obvious. “I’m your new roommate.”

“Roommate?” said Lyra, still confused.

“Yeah.” Toaster pulled out a half-eaten newspaper from under her saddle. “I saw your add. You were asking for a roommate. So, that’s me now.”

“That’s not how it works,” said Lyra. “And I posted that ad almost three months ago. I’ve since secured funding. I don’t need a roommate. Go away. And leave the cheese!”

Toaster stopped, her mouth now open and inches from the floor-cheese.

“Aww,” she said, lifting her head. “And I just moved my stuff in…”

“Your stuff…wait, where?!” Lyra had checked every room on the way downstairs, and the ground floor was a single open room adjacent to her garage. None of it had had anything that was not hers.

“In the basement,” said Toaster.

“Basement…this house doesn’t have a basement…”

“Then where did I move my stuff?”

“I don’t know! Wait…please tell me you don’t mean the crawlspace…”

“I don’t know what that word means. But if it is the room below this house, yes. I assumed that was the room you were offering.”

“No, that’s not what I- -”

“Hey, cool!” said Toaster, crossing into Lyra’s living room and looking up at a large banner emblazoned with the sign of a thistle. “You’re a fan of the Questlords of Inverness?”

“Sure…a fan…” She paused. “How do you even know that name?”

“The Questlords? I just do. I just came here from Canterlot, after all.”

“Canterlot?” said Lyra, for the first time lowering her sword and following Toaster into the other room. “I’m from Canterlot too.”

“Really? Neat.”

Lyra sighed. “What is it exactly that you do Ms….Toaster? Wait, nevermind. I don’t care. Do you want the room?”

“Yes,” said Toaster, her eyes widening and a broad smile crossing her face.

“Interview time. Have you ever killed a pony?”

“Actually, no. I haven’t.”

“Good enough for me. Rent is one hundred bits a month. Can you pay?”

“Oh yes,” said Toaster, smiling in a way that made Lyra uncomfortable. “I will definitely pay…”

“Fine. Basic rules, though.” She pointed at the still open refrigerator, which she now saw was almost completely devoid of food. “You don’t touch my food or my stuff without asking. Got that?”

“It is got,” said Toaster. “With the amount of money I’ll be making, I can by tons of my own food.”

“Good. Now, I suppose you’ll want to move into one of the upstairs rooms. I can clear the machining lab if you’ll help with the lathe. Or don’t mind sleeping beneath a lathe.”

“It’s fine,” said Toaster. “I like the room I already have.”

“In the crawlspace? Really?” Lyra shivered, knowing that the cramped space beneath her house was dirty and filled with spiders. She never went down there herself unless she absolutely had to.

“It smells nice.”

“No, no it doesn’t.”

“Eh,” shrugged Toaster. She crossed the room toward the door, and opened it, allowing a sudden gust of wind and rain to enter the room. Lyra shielded herself, but Toaster seemed to ignore it completely. “Well, I’m going back downstairs. Big day tomorrow. I’ll see you later, new roommate.”

Toaster stepped out into the rain and closed the door. Lyra walked over to the kitchen window, and watched through the glass as Toaster scrambled into the narrow space beneath the house. Lyra watched her go, and then slowly took off her partial helmet and set it on the counter.

“Wow,” she said, sitting in one of the chairs around the kitchen table. “That was weird. I think I need to stop using lead solder.” She looked around at the mess on her floor, and realized something was missing. “Hey! She took my cheese!”

Lyra sighed, and then wondered what she had just gotten herself into.