Reflection is a double-edged sword. It can create moments that push you forward: refreshed and renewed with a healthier perspective and a blank slate. Adversely, it can create moments that utterly destroy you: tearing apart everything you know to be true, replacing what was once established and familiar with things that only lurked in the darkest corners of your mind. While I waited in the bathroom to be inevitably discovered, ironically, I found the mirror harder to look at than the door. Fluttershy had helped me out of the kindness of her heart, and whatever had occurred in the wake of that… I simply couldn’t face it. There were no excuses this time, and no one to blame but myself.

Sometimes you have to appreciate the little things. I could have woken up with a missing tooth and a tiger in the next room. The details were still practically nonexistent. I had no idea how far things had actually gone, but I could remember the feeling. There was so much intensity, unrivaled intimacy, emotions linked to images that teased just outside my conscious memory. The knot of sexual frustration I’d carried with me for years like a benign tumor had been twisted into shame, its alteration only cluttering my thoughts with further confusion. Though Fluttershy had discredited… whatever it was that happened as the result of heated emotions after the joining, it was an explanation I couldn’t accept. Years of barriers made of carefully repressed frustration, walled off and tempered by time, all decimated by a bottle of cider and a touch of magic? Completely impossible. Yet, here I am.

Both hands pressed flat against the counter, I forced myself to look in the mirror. My chestnut hair was askew, a case of bedhead that would have made a vegas call girl blush; A stranger’s emerald eyes looked back at me warily, searching, as if inquiring who I was, and what exactly I had done with Kate. I really wish I knew.

“Fluttershy, dear, I may find it in myself to forgive you for keeping such a sordid little secret from me, but only if you stand aside”

“Really- Rarity, There’s no one in there- Just angel bunny, who really shouldn’t be interrupted when he’s preening.” …A preening bunny. Pfft. At least I’ll know if Fluttershy tries to lie to me. Then again… so will everypony else. If this was going to work, it looked like I was going to have to be the one to sell it. Otherwise, this whole mingle-mark plan was not going to fly.

If I didn’t, the whole façade was going to collapse, completely nulling the only reason I had for possibly losing my- NOPE. Not ready to think about that. Best to focus on the present.

If I don’t make the most of this I’ll have put Fluttershy in a compromising positio- er- put her in an ‘awkward social situation’ for nothing. It sounded like she was still holding off the unfortunate intruder, but Flutters wasn’t going to last long no matter what I did, so I decided to face the inevitable, engaging the one unicorn firing squad head on. Steeling myself for my first official walk of shame, I opened the door.

“Shy, have you seen my pants? Oh, good morning Rarity.” Fluttershy’s head shot around, her face paling at my sudden entry. Rarity looked exactly like I had expected her to: her jaw hit the floor, and her eyes slid to the Pegasus slowly.

“Why you… naughty… filly!” Looking away, Fluttershy murmured something along the lines of it not being what it looked like. My previous experience in acting was limited to playing a sheep in the kindergarten nativity, so I laid it on thick to compensate. Brushing my hair back with a finger, I leaned down and kissed my alleged lover on the cheek, prompting an impromptu half second spreading of wings and a look of perturbed shock from the Pegasus.

“I’m the only one who gets to call her that.” I gave Rarity a mock glare of jealousy. If the unicorn’s jaw was on the floor previously, it was now resting somewhere in the basement below. Despite her courage the previous night, Fluttershy looked like her head might pop from the pressure, completely aghast at the semi-public display of affection

“Um-not… not in front of company… if you don’t mind…” There was no acting in her voice, just a very real embarrassment that made my ears burn. I sidestepped Rarity, who looked like she was watching a tennis match between Fluttershy and my bare legs, hurrying over to the bed to retrieve my previously misplaced pants with as much dignity as humanly possible. I slid them on with no small haste, and heard a sharp intake of breath behind me.

“Fluttershy you didn’t- Oh my.” She had obviously caught sight of the tragically placed mingle mark, though her reaction puzzled me. She had already picked up on the difference in her friend’s cutie mark earlier, so why was it such a stretch of the imagination to see it on me? I turned back to them, curious: Fluttershy was still looking off to the side, while Rarity was no longer leering, instead, looking at me with a more critical eye. That’s when I saw it. I had assumed that I had just sort of borrowed my lovely little tramp-stamp (sigh) from her cutie mark, and given her nothing in return, an assumption which was entirely incorrect.

Instead, serving as a new background for the two remaining butterflies laid a transparent sundial, its crystal nature apparent from the artistic static refraction of some unseen source of light. Frowning, I found myself lost in thought. A yield sign or some natural disaster would have made more sense. Why a sundial? Still staring at me appraisingly, Rarity spoke without looking away.

“I suppose our weekly excursion will have to been postponed dear.”

“No, she can go; I can take care of your chores for you while you’re out Shy.” I interjected, not wanting to be a burden.

“It is not that. You see, I’m rather attached to her.” Rarity indicated Fluttershy with her hoof, and looked back at me suspiciously. “I can’t give her away to just anypony. Only the finest will do for one of my closest friends.”

“Um-… Rarity- She is fine… Kate is… Nice.” The unicorn clucked her tongue, unsatisfied with the attempt.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Now then Kate, I think it’s time for a little test.” I felt a tinge of unease. Judging from her previous reaction, I had thought she was going to be the easiest to convince.

“…What did you have in mind?”

When Rarity had asked me to the spa, I had immediately agreed. The look on her face when she was contemplating what my “test” would be was the look of a villainess, carefully calculating the final details of her master plan. I had expected something much more dastardly; after the way my imagination had drifted into the horrifying territory of indulging voyeurism at best, and a bondage centered threesome at worst, ‘let’s go to the spa’ almost sounded like a copout.

Note to self: Rarity is not as much of an airhead as she appears to be.

The first sign of the impending storm came as we walked out of view of Fluttershy’s house. I had put on a lighthearted face and waved goodbye to her as she watched at the window, but in truth, I was incredibly nervous as we approached the outskirts of town. And that was before I felt something manipulating the back of my tank top, pulling it taut. I spun around, grabbing to hold my shirt down and glaring the unicorn behind me.

“What was that!” My fingers fumbled at the bottom of the shirt, detecting a tight knot that artificially shortened the back; the dresses she had made me came to mind and my eyes narrowed, this was some sort of play to see more skin.

“Kate darling, I appreciate clothes more than most, but they do get in the way a bit.” She grinned at me coyly “You’re not ashamed of what you have with such a gorgeous mare… or are you?”

“Of course not. I don’t see-“ The true nature of Rarity’s test came into focus, and I could have kicked myself for my previous optimism. My alarm bells had betrayed me entirely… or perhaps they had just chosen to mutiny as a result of poor leadership. The spa isn’t the test at all. We had stopped on the bridge just before town. I had stopped trying to untie the knot and she must have seen the begging in my eyes. She studied me quietly.

“I’m not sure why you’d want to hide that anyway. You know the mingle mark is a big step for ponies. I’m not sure if you have an equivalent in your culture, but usually its years into a relationship before exchanging marks even becomes a topic for discussion. If a couple does exchange, then the custom is to celebrate until the next season. If the ponies happen to wear something during the celebration period, the clothing is always modified so the mark is visible.” She shivered, engulfed in the fantasy of her own interpretation. “It’s the most romantic thing two ponies can do for each other.”

The psychological weight of it hit me full force. I was struggling to stay upright, wheezing for breath from the panic attack. Fluttershy had apparently left out some fine print: Rather, she had left out several hundred pages of fine print. This whole concept that I had incorrectly understood to be something along the line of ‘promise rings’ was now starting to sound dangerously close to matrimony. It was plainly obvious now why Rarity was taking it so seriously. I managed to get my breathing under control.

“Kate.” Rarity moved in front of me and looked up, meeting my eyes, completely serious. “I’m not in the business of putting ponies in awkward positions, and I don’t enjoy it. But she is precious to me. If you’re not ashamed of… whatever it is you have with Fluttershy then it’s simple; prove it.”

Loathsome as my position might have been, I had a sense of growing respect for Rarity. She brilliantly maneuvered me into a trap, sure, but she had done so for all the right reasons. Now the ultimatum had been made clear, the gauntlet had been thrown. I could sort out what exactly Fluttershy had and had not told me later on. I had no intention of hurting the Pegasus emotionally, but they were best friends, and I could see why Rarity couldn’t take that claim at face value: If this was the only way I could prove that to her, then so be it.

I never asked for this. My faux emotional resolve had crumbled the second we crossed the bridge and began our leisurely walk towards Ponyville. Sorry, did I say walk? I meant ‘leisurely stroll down the green mile.’ Rarity was set on walking at a snail’s pace, carefree, talking about something to do with the most recent trends, but wasn’t paying her the slightest mind. If my first outing in Ponyville had devolved into a something out of a horror movie, this was more akin to high noon in a spaghetti western. I was Clint Eastwood, moseying towards town as the locals gawked, plotting and keeping watch from careful distance.

…Okay, to be honest, that analogy might be marginally flawed. I’m pretty sure Clint’s teeth have never chattered the way mine were jittering about, nor had he ever shivered with the same degree of abject terror. Knowing my luck, the best I’d get along the lines of a showdown would likely be ripped right out of the final bits of Grand Torino. In other words, it wouldn’t freaking end well. Still, the romance of seeing myself as the lone cowgirl riding into town was somewhat comforting, (though the irony of the fantasy was, assuredly, not lost on me.)

My confidence wasn’t fully dissolved until we had fully entered town, and ponies began to notice the exposed mark on my back. There was a not so subtle ‘whisper whisper whisper’ that crescendoed into a significantly less subtle ‘RABBLE RABBLE RABBLE’ the moment I passed. As the rabbles were roused, I began to realize how flawed my previous analogy truly was: Calamity Jane? Not freaking likely. More like Hester Prynne and the Sisterhood of the Traveling Tramp-Stamp.

The whole thing had In the Hall of the Mountain King playing in my head. I tried to consider the upsides. Firstly, I wasn’t being chased… only followed, and at a distance. I wasn’t sure if it was a result of Twilight’s lecture, Fluttershy’s mark, or Rarity’s personal escort, but I assumed it was some intermingled combination of the three. Secondly, I had yet to see Pinkie. Granted, I might have been reaching a little for the silver lining. Though it was mostly in vain, I tried to distract myself by studying the architecture, since I hadn’t been able to appreciate it in a scenario that didn’t involve outrunning a depantsing inquisition.

Unsurprisingly, it’s rather difficult to study anything when you have a million pairs of eyes boring into the back of your head. I really would have loved to walk faster had Rarity not consistently kept the slower pace. The amalgamation of multi-colored ponies behind me was converging, a small crowd growing ever larger, still somehow maintaining a careful distance. I’d stop every few steps to cast a wary eye back, the results reactions from my sudden turns would have been humorous had I not been so terrified.

The small crowd would startle each time I looked back, and subsequently averted their gaze, developing sudden interest in the sky, each other, or whatever mundane object happened to be close enough to examine. The only one looking remotely in my direction was a gray, loopy-eyed Pegasus, her left eye gazing towards me despite her obvious attempts to correct it. Tearing myself away, I caught back up to Rarity, who had yet to stop talking. Beads of sweat were formed on my brow, as I tried very hard to pretend that the metaphorical scarlet letter on my back was not being studied by half of Ponyville.

“The spa is right up ahead dear, you’re doing fine.” While I appreciated her attempt to comfort me, it was rather moot considering the situation she’d put me in. I had to constantly remind myself that running would not end well. Ponies love to chase things ponies love to chase things ponies love to chase things. Even that reminder went out the window the second we passed a Carrot stand and I realized where we were in town. My god- this is the market, in the middle of the day. That means- A muffled voice all but confirmed my dread.

“-mgfff-mmff- consent?” My head whipped around. Applejack stood firmly in my way, eyebrow raised. The fact that she was using it to haul her cart didn’t really register; there was a rope in her mouth, she had just said ‘consent,’ and she was staring at me like she wanted something. The crowd behind me and the Stetson clad pony in front of me seemed to close in, playing at my claustrophobia

I spun around, pointing the opposite direction of the crowd.

“IZZAT PRINCESS CELESTIA?” For a moment, everypony turned in the direction I was pointing, creating a temporary state of panic. That moment was all I needed.

Thirty yards from the applecart to the spa door, covered in mere seconds. I’ve said it before: Red bull does nothing; its fear that gives you wings. I wouldn’t hear about it until later, but after I disappeared, Rarity had leaned over to Applejack and inquired:

“What in Luna’s name did you say to spook her so bad?” Applejack, who had dropped the rope at this point, was still staring at the place I’d previously occupied, probably wondering when exactly I’d developed the ability to teleport.

“Ah just asked if she liked mah present…”

The inside of the spa waiting room took the form of my own personal nirvana. Other than the cotton candy colored mare at the front desk who was infrequently stealing glances at me, the room was empty, and I was free from the prying eyes of the crowd. Despite my break in discipline at the end, I had apparently passed Rarity’s test. She had apologized for how heated things had gotten, and insisted on giving me the full treatment. I’d never really been to a spa before, so I didn’t know what to expect from the said 'full treatment.' Maybe it was just relative to the stress of what I had just experienced, but I was enjoying the crap out of the waiting room. The alone time with the soft lighting, pastel walls and beautiful music- Wait. music?

It had mixed so well with the mood of the place that it had taken me a while to realize that the soft chords of a lyre didn’t originate from an artificial source. A mint green unicorn wearing a hoodie sat in the corner, her horn glowing lightly as she strummed a melancholy tune. I must have somehow missed her when I first came in, though it was a little hard to believe that I’d missed somepony so noticeable. There was a bard like quality to her musicianship, the sort of understated flair one can only achieve through years of practice, if not decades. Her eyes fluttered open with the last chord of the song, and she smiled at me, as if appreciative of the audience.

“Rough morning?” Her voice was almost sagely.

“It could have been worse” Returning the smile, I rubbed my neck awkwardly. There was a strange frankness to her that I found refreshing.

“Words to live by. It’s best not to tempt fate.” The unicorn turned back to her lyre, gently strumming a few new chords. Odd. She speaks my language.

“That sounds like experience talking.”

“A bit too much, I fear.”

“Any advice for a fellow victim of fate?” It wasn’t meant as a serious question; it was a half joke, which stemmed from my desire to keep the conversation going. Regardless of my intent, the lyre ceased, and her amber eyes locked with mine somberly.

“Never forget that there’s always something more to lose.”

A chill ran down my spine. The perturbing discussion was interrupted by Rarity’s contrastingly cheerful voice

“Kate darling, it’s our turn with the masseuse!”

“Alright, I’m coming.” This was going to be interesting, I’d never had a professional massage before. I turned back to the Unicorn.

“By the way, I didn’t catch your-“ Wait. Where did she go?

Actually, come to think of it, who was I even talking to?

The memory was wispy, like smoke carried away on a distant breeze. When I turned to follow Rarity into the massage area, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was forgetting somepony important.

The massage quickly became rather intense. I’m not sure what I had expected: Aloe had a surprisingly stringent work ethic when it came to her work. At first I’d had my doubts, as she spent a long amount of time familiarizing herself with my anatomy, counting ribs and vertebrae, feeling for tension. It would have been creepier had she not been making annoyed noises the entire time.

“Zere is so much tension here. Dis is probably going to hurt.” It’s just a little massage, I think I’ll be-SNAP- NYARGH. Her hoofs, which had previously been carefully and softly evaluating areas of tension were now stamping those areas out, full force.

“You’ve obviously not taken care of your back ze way you ought. Otherwise dis would not be so painful. Madam Fluttershy is a regular here, so you best take care of her.” Does anypony want to give me the benefit of the doubt here-CRACKLE-OWIE ok I’ll take that for a no-POP-ARGH I get it I’ll take care of her just stop breaking me!

The next twenty minutes were some of the most excruciating of my life. Somewhere between this world and the previous, it seemed that certain words must have gotten lost in translation: the term ‘masseuse’ for example, seemed to have gotten mixed up with ‘specialist,’ while the word ‘spa’ was more aptly used to describe the pony version of a CIA black site, in which, I was currently experiencing the equestrian version of ‘enhanced interrogation.’ Everything that could be popped or manipulated was thoroughly adjusted. After adding several bite marks to my own lower lip, a final slap in the middle of my back jarred me out of my agony addled stupor.

“Good as new. I would ask you if you wanted me do ze front, but I don’t zink your new marefriend would appreciate zat.” She snickered at her own joke and walked off, leaving me to whimper my thanks to whatever deity had seen fit to have mercy on me.

In comparison, the hot tub felt more like a lazarus pit, slowly mending my traumatized body and bringing me back to life. Vera brought us two waters with lemon wedges and asked if we wanted anything else. How much for a new spine, just out of curiosity? Rarity didn’t even have to look at the menu.

“Just the usual cosmo.” Her choice of drink drew disturbing parallels between Rarity and Sarah Jessica Parker to my mind. I would have ordered a martini, ‘shaken, not stirred’ to outweigh the lameness, but the recent encounter with alcohol was a bit to prevalent on the mind. Nursing the lemon water would have suited me fine, had Rarity not insisted I order something.

“A virgin strawberry daiquiri please.” Alright, alright, laugh if you must. Somehow, my philosophy study group had gotten it into their minds that meeting in a bar to study was a brilliant idea. As it’s already been clearly demonstrated, I can’t hold my liquor; thus I learned to stop worrying and love the little overpriced umbrella-clad slushees. Though the prior spa experience had be disturbingly similar to the process of rendition, I did feel rather fancy sipping on drinks in the hot tub. Even if it was a glorified slushee, it tasted incredible.

Ponyville strawberries… are kind of amazing.

“So, how was she?”

PFFFFFT- Whether or not it was actually intentional, it seemed like Rarity waited for the absolute worst time to pose that question. For her craftiness, she was awarded a total spit-take, up the nose, out the mouth, all at the same time. Scooting a bit away from me, Rarity glared.

“How uncouth!”

“Says the pony who just asked how her best friend was in bed!” I snapped back, still holding my now slushee flooded nose.

“Touché. You still haven’t answered my question, though.”

“What kind of friend would answer that?”

“What kind of friend indeed.” The unicorn re-voiced my question with emphasis on the offending word, and I slowly comprehended that I’d made a mistake. The difference in wording was subtle, but it struck me instantly; you don’t trade mingle marks with a ‘friend.’

Note to self: Rarity is not an airhead at all.

“Does the title ‘The Princess and the Plebian’ mean anything to you?” She had caught me in the middle of a drink again. This time I had no doubt it was intentional: While I managed to avoid another spit-take, a bit of coughing and sputtering was unavoidable, and the subsequent impression was rather damning. She placed the glass on her forehead with a groan, “It is her favorite book, so I suppose it wasn’t that much of a stretch. Oh dear, dear Fluttershy. What have you done you silly filly.”

I made several attempts to correct my mistake, to somehow salvage the situation, all of them falling on deaf ears.

“I’m not putting this all on you Darling.” Rising out of the hot tub, she turned to face me. “Fluttershy has always been a very lonely pony… moreso than she ever lets on. Even if you didn’t mean to take advantage of her, I can’t help but feel like you did. If you’ve ever watched a friend put herself in a position where she’ll inevitably get hurt, you’ll know what I mean.” The words were meant as kindness, so why did they sting so much?

Having toweled off a short time after Rarity left, I found myself in the spa bathroom, soul-searching in front of a mirror for the second time that day. It felt mutual. Did I really take advantage of her? Of course, I hadn’t noticed it before, but now that Rarity had pointed it out, Flutters did seem lonely. Assuming she wasn’t, just because she was surrounded by friends might have been too presumptuous of me, my first misstep. Or perhaps there was an entirely other side to her I hadn’t seen and this over-analyzing was pointless. When it rains, it pours…

THUMP. As if on cue, a miniature orange Pegasus bashed through the double doors.

“MS. RARITY! MS. RARITY!” She would have slammed straight into me had I not gracefully sidestepped. The one positive thing that’s come out of my excursion to ponyville: I’ve gotten a hell of a lot better at dodging.

“You just missed her kiddo-“ the thought dawned on me that I had no idea how I affected Foals, and I felt the blood drain from my face. It was almost enough to end me off and running again, as that’s not really the sort of thing I had any desire to figure out through experimentation, but something in Scootaloo’s expression stopped me; Panic was written all over her face.

“ohnohnohnohnohnohnohno-“ I crouched down to her eye level and shook her gently.

“Take a breath and then talk to me. What happened?” Bravo Kate, always so rational and coolheaded when you’re dealing with someone else’s problems.

Following my instructions a little too literally, the pint-size Pegasus took a massive, five second breath, and then let out a torrent of words. “We-all-climbed-on-the-roof-to-try-and-get-our-spy-pony-cutie-marks-except-for-Applebloom-cause-she-doesn’t-like-you-at-all-and-it-all-went-really-well-until-we decided-that-spying-was-boring-so-we-tried-to-climb-down-and-I-slid-down-the-pipe-which-knocked-it over-and-left-Sweetie-Belle-hanging-there-I-didn’t-mean-to-but-I-did-and-I-think-she-was-crying-and-now-she’s-stuck-hanging-off-of-the-roof-and-she-yelled-at-me-to-get-help-so-I-went-to-get-help-and-I-tried-to-find-her-sister-but-instead-I-found-YOU cough cough.

Before she even managed to cough twice, I was already out the door, after shouting over my shoulder for her to try and find help.

Being an only child is seriously overrated. Sure, you get more stuff, and generally don’t have to share, but it gets really lonely, especially in homes like the one I came out of. Somewhere between pre-adolescence and adulthood the desire for a sibling became tantamount to my desire for friendship. While volunteering at some local after school tutoring programs helped to quell that loneliness, it was sort of a temporary fix to a permanent problem. Even so, I treated the kids I tutored like extended family. If a kid’s in danger there’s very little thinking involved for me. It’s not a question of ‘who’ and ‘is there even anything I can do.’ It’s a question of ‘how quickly can I cover the distance?’

The fact that I barely even knew what Sweetie Belle looked like was irrelevant. I circled to the other side of the two-story building before I found her. Unfortunately, she had chosen the wrong side to fall on, away from the busier street, so nopony had seen the imminent peril. I would have to hope that Scootaloo would manage to flag down a Pegasus or a Unicorn, but I had no way of knowing how long that would take as the streets were nowhere near as crowded here in the late afternoon as they had been previously.

“Sweetie Belle! Hang on! I’m going to try and find a way up there!”

“Who- eek- Hurry, I’m slipping!” She barely even answered: the amount of strain in her voice was more than alarming. I spotted a pipe on the far end of the building. It would have to do. Middle school gymnastics, don’t fail me now. The climb wasn’t exactly pleasant, I grunted as my body stretched muscles that hadn’t been used in years, as well as the ones recently traumatized by the masseuse.

Halfway up, I faced another complication. Sweetie’s left foreleg slipped entirely, and she was now maintaining her grip on the roof by a single hoof. I’m not going to make it. By the time I got to the roof she would have already slipped and fell. Sliding back down, I winced at the friction burns on my hands, quickly jogging back to the ground beneath her.

“You’re going to have to jump!”

“Are you CRAZY?!” She stared down at me, terrified.

“I will catch you, I promise!” Considering that she didn’t know me at all, I couldn’t exactly blame her for not buying it. Panicking, she reached up with her left leg, grasping at the ledge, a move which only loosened the grip of her remaining hoof, and as if in slow motion, she started to fall.

Note to self: While unicorn horns are capable of all sorts of lovely magic, on the most basic level, they are still pointy objects.

My heart sank as I watched her fall. There’s a feeling you get in gymnastics when you watch someone try to land a difficult aerial feat, a flipping in your stomach when you realize they don’t have enough momentum to stick the landing. If it was accurate, I could tell this was not going to end well.

Because of the way she struggled, she was now descending at an angle away from me rather than right down on top of me. If she was as heavy as I estimated she would be, I wasn’t going to be able to catch her with just my arms, I was going to have to pull her in and use my entire body to stop her descent.

But the way she was rotating was less than ideal. By the time she reached the ground, if I didn’t catch her, she would hit it head first, and probably break her neck. But if I caught her…

No. Not ‘if’ Kate. You promised. No choice.

Closing the remaining distance between myself and the unicorn with three lunging steps, I caught her as ideally as possible, arms looping around her stomach and upper body. She was heavier than I had predicted, and the weight brought me down to my knees and tipped over as her body slammed into mine, full force.

SHNIKT

As someone with monumental bad luck and an ongoing grievance with Murphy ’s Law, I had long since accepted that things might not end particularly well. I had foreseen the possibility of all sorts of horrible accidents, such as the previously mentioned death by steamroller. I’d thought I’d exhausted all the obscure possibilities, but ‘accidental seppuku via flying baby unicorn’ was a bit far-fetched, even for my cynicism.

“Urgh”

With the unpleasant taste of iron in my mouth, I slid down the spa wall, still cradling the foal in my arms. Light green eyes stared up at me, confused. She really hadn’t thought I would catch her.

“Are- Are you hurt?” Hah. Almost fell to her death and she’s worried about me. Adorable.

“Course not. You ever gotten a massage from Aloe? Now those hurt. I probably just pulled a muscle.” I was rewarded for my bluster with a smile, one that only lasted until she saw the way I was pressing my left hand against the wound on my abdomen.

“You are hurt.”

“It’s just a scratch. Mind going to get Twilight for me?”

“Okay! I’ll be back, don’t go anywhere!” I couldn’t help but grin at the way she suddenly took charge. She really was a lot like her sister.

“I’ll try to control myself.”

Collapsing the second she rounded the corner, I coughed up a storm the moment I felt she was out of earshot. It was a new level of pain, one that broke through my thresholds and seated itself in the numbness of over-stimulation. My grip on the wound loosened as my eyes started to glaze over.

I tried to make peace with the situation; it wasn’t ideal, it was painful, it sucked and I hated it, but this was still better than dying pointlessly, like from randomly choking on pancakes one day and suffocating to death for no reason, right? Even if my existence was some sort of cruel joke, I had beaten it by managing to do something noble in the end. I think… I think that will have to do...








.

“Oh you! Stop it with the silly inner soliloquies! The party hasn’t even started yet!” Oh. Naturally. Silly me. Two hoofs grabbed at my cheeks, wiggling my dazed face back and forth, clearing my vision. Pink hair and malicious blue eyes came into focus. I stared into the abyss of her dilated pupils, and the abyss stared back, a hungry void, sinister enough to send Nietzsche himself screaming for the hills. She pointed down at my now ruined tank-top “By the way, you’ve got red on you!”

“Y-you don’t say.”

“I do!” In a blur of motion, I was lifted up and unceremoniously draped over the pink demon’s back, the friction of her coat against my wound excruciating. It only worsened as she began to trot with the typical cheery bobbing of her hips.

“Gurgle-gach-URK”

“Aww, that’s not how we say, ‘thank you Pinkie for taking me to the hospital!’”

She’s- She’s actually taking me to the hospital? Somehow I thought I’d be chained in a basement somewhere and eaten in increments, or baked into pastries, or sealed in some horrible alternate reality consisting of nothing but mudkipz-

“Don’t think such mean things!”

STOP READING MY THOUGHTS!

“Then stop yelling at me in your head Ms. meanie pants!”

It’s amazing how impossible it is to not think of anything. Instead, I tried to focus on the pain that came with each heavy step.

Ow…ow…ow…ow…ow…ow…ow…

“OH! I know I know! it’s a metronome! Can you do ¾?”

…What… exactly are you…

For the first time, Pinkie stopped, and stared at me in surprise.

“You mean you don’t know?” She inhaled deeply, gathering her breath for something.

Oh no.

“MYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY-”

Please no.

“-YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY-”

I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME DAMMIT.

“-YYYYY NAME IS PINKIE PIE! AND I AM HERE TO SAY, I’M GONNA MAKE YOU SMILE AND I WILL BRIGHTEN UP YOUR DAY!-”

By the time we arrived at the hospital a good half hour later, Pinkie had just finished her fourth song and dance routine, for which I had somehow stayed conscious, despite being draped over her back and miserably jostled throughout the entire experience.

Note to self: There are far worse things than death