Soft and warm breathing, gently huffing against his face over and over. It smells peculiar, maybe a little pungent, but not terribly so. Crimson’s eyes open, blinking tiredly before they remain attentive.

The morning sun punches through the circular window above the bed, shining into the room and giving it light. Miraculously, he had a great slumber. This blessing of a bed combined with perfect room temperature was a formula enough for one of the best nights of sleep he’s ever had.

He turns his head to the right, over to where Moonlight is sleeping next to him… and by next to him, he means right next to him. The little blue unicorn had shuffled around in her sleep during the night, resting right up against his side, but not hugging him or embracing him in any way… she’s just kind of plastered against him. Her coat is soft and smooth to the touch, like if a firm mass of warm, high-quality silk fabric was pressing on his side.

His entire peripheral houses a close-up view on the inside of her slightly hanging maw, where she inhales through her nose and exhales out of her mouth to throw a soft gust of hot air at his face. She certainly doesn’t look graceful like this, but it’s charming in an innocent way. Crimson studies her face, keeping himself from moving so she doesn’t wake up.

It’s amazing, realizing just how parallel her existence is to his despite never having known of each other's worlds. Unlike a horse or a pony from Earth, which usually has brown and goofy teeth due to its natural tendencies, Moonlight’s are perfectly ordered and pearly. They’re so prim in fact, they put his own teeth to shame, which comes as a surprise since he made very sure to brush and floss as often as he could. A lot of men and women in Crimson’s old gang, the Black Spurs, had yellowed and crooked teeth, and it wasn't like dental supplies were hard to come by. They refused to take care of themselves, but not Crimson. Willingly failing to take care of one's own body is an odd peeve that he has with others, but regardless, he doesn't tell anyone anything more than once, especially if he knows they aren't going to listen.

She’s the pinnacle of hygiene and self-care, even if she is out-of-shape. Her mane managed to maintain its shape throughout the night, still drooping downwards, snipped to make it appear sharp at the ends but round at the top. Her horn is dangerously close to his forehead, but luckily for him, that’s about it. It’s close, but it never stabbed him. He feels tempted to reach out and touch the very tip of it, wondering if she can even feel it. He isn’t sure if a unicorn’s horn is some sort of bone with marrow and nerves in it, or just some hard protrusion that sits at the top of their head, unfeeling and unmoving.

Crimson’s studious mull is slowly deterred as his body begins to fully wake up. He feels the need to use the restroom, and not having eaten anything since Dahlia’s breakfast, he sure is hungry. He turns his head forward, facing the ceiling, and he lies still for a few more minutes.

After making sure that Moonlight’s still asleep, he discretely moves himself away from her, lifting the covers off of himself and shuffling out of bed. Once he stands and quietly yawns, he scratches his chest and looks back at the sleeping body.

“Hnnn~” she suddenly moans, rolling on the bed to end up on Crimson’s side of the bed. His side is warm, causing Moonlight to snuggle into the indentation his body left behind on the mattress.

Crimson suppresses the urge to vocalize his snicker. As he really takes in her presence without pressure, she's adorable. These ponies have a particular style to them, especially in comparison to the ones he worked with back home. Tiny muzzles, thin yet expressive lips, large and lively eyes, and their compact size delivers a visual aesthetic like no other.

It wasn’t his choice to end up being sent into this world, but in a way, he isn't complaining. Now that he knows his sister is fairing well, and he's able to talk to her when she wants, he's content in remaining in Equestria for a bit longer. This experience is certainly one worth having, especially since there's a problem disturbing the tranquility of the land. He wants to figure it out and hopefully put a stop to it. This world, or Moonlight at least, deserves to be safe from harm.

As Crimson walks quietly towards the door to exit the room and find the bathroom, he thinks about Moonlight’s reaction last night. She seriously seemed adamant about staying home, refusing the chance to acquire new and useful data via field research. She definitely looks like a home body, but even home bodies know when to leave the fort when it's necessary. She was almost desperate in the way she asserted her desire to remain here.

Crimson sees a sleek, modern wooden clock with silver-black hands ticking on the wall in the hallway. It’s actually pretty damn late, 12:45. This is possibly the latest he’s ever woken up, as he’s usually up when the sun is. The animals he had back home, before they died too suddenly in the massive shootout, were his natural alarm clock.

He finds his first stop just down the hallway, next to the staircase, where a fully opened door gives way towards a comfortably-sized restroom. Just like other rooms in the house, a nightlight with a blue lightbulb shines, but is completely drowned out by the sun’s gaze piercing through the restroom window.

He sees that even this restroom is a modern leap ahead of what he’s used to, with tile floors, a carpet in front of the shower tub, a rather nice sink and toilet, and pink and purple floral patterns along the walls. A lot of work went into this house, and for Moonlight to be the only one living in it is piteous.

Maybe she’s always been socially awkward. Crimson knew of some folks back home who just couldn’t meet and greet worth a damn, no matter how hard they tried. Viola could be coupled into that group if thinking about it a certain way, and Moonlight might just be one of those people… which is sad too, because she’d probably make a good mom. Anyone who can care for a home like this and such an extensive garden outside is bound to be good at taking care of young.

After Crimson finishes his business, making very sure to leave the place as clean as it was before he entered, he rinses his hands with one of the several soap products that Moonlight has set out. It’s not clear what she’d do with so many different soaps, but there they are.

He then heads out of the restroom and treks downstairs, feeling the cool tile greet his bare feet. His cargo shorts still scrape quite uncomfortably against his groin, but they’re better than nothing, and Moonlight doesn’t need to be more embarrassed than she already gets. He's caught her staring at his body, his barren chest, more than once. It might be a normal thing for ponies to be attracted to humans... but the same can't be said about the reverse. Crimson isn't totally sure whether he should be finding Moonlight as adorable and attractive as he currently does, but on the same token, she's not just any animal. She can speak, think, rationalize, and she practices self-care.

On the other side of the coin, it addles him that these ponies are attracted to humans regardless of the fact that they lack all of those aforementioned traits. The humans here are wild and animalistic in nature, which isn't very attractive in his eyes. Maybe he'll ask Moonlight about it later.

He makes his way towards the kitchen, which is next to the living room and the exit to the backyard. There’s a few consumable items in plain sight, like baskets that contain fruits, veggies, and some wrapped snacks, then there’s an electrically powered refrigerator which he won’t open without Moonlight’s consent.

Deciding he can wait a bit longer for her to wake up before touching anything missable, he walks to the sink to get a swig of water. There’s a pink plastic cup sitting next to the knobs of the faucet, probably one that Moonlight uses to fill and drink water from. He picks it up and sniffs it, getting no peculiar smells from it and seeing that it has a tiny bit of water at the very bottom. Convinced that it’s a drinking cup, he fills it with cold water from the faucet, proceeding to chug it down in gulps. With a satisfied sigh, he sets the cup down and returns to the living room.

He stands there, alone and unmoving, with his hands in his pockets as he stares out of the glass sliding door that enters the backyard. He can see several butterflies of different colors flapping about happily, enjoying their short lives by pollinating every single flower in the garden.

He takes a seat on the couch, and it sinks in comfortably to his buttocks. With a pleased exhale, he reclines back, sitting with his leg crossed over the other and his left arm reaching across the top of the backrest. He feels like he could fall asleep again right here and now. It's also great that the furniture and appliances in Moonlight's house are sized perfectly for a fully-grown human, they're not small or 'pony-sized.' While not positive about it, he assumes she was probably expecting a human to be at her home at some point, but it also doesn't make sense, since any other human from this world wouldn't be sitting down on the couch like he is right now. Maybe the big furniture is just personal preference.

He doesn’t know how much time he spends just sitting there, thinking, remembering, and reflecting about different things. … The conversation he had with Moonlight yesterday about Dahlia is constantly shoving other thoughts out of the way to make room for itself. It’s all he can think about right now. Was Dahlia really trying to get him to Canterlot so he could be sold to that human trafficking ring? Or was is all just a terrible structure of events that conveniently caused everything to happen the way it did? … She never really was keen on talking about her intentions, just the execution.

Maybe Moonlight was being too cynical, and Dahlia wasn’t just looking to sell him off to get him out of her hair, AND make a bag of bits while at it. … But on the same hand, that would have been quite ingenious. She could have sold Crimson off and made some money, and to boot, she’d never have to deal with the consequences of backstabbing him. He would be far, far away from her, and she’d be gone. Gone and gone, without even a shadow left behind.

Maybe that’s why Dahlia’s lodge was so under decorated. She’s the wandering type, so it could easily be that she used that lodge as a temporary stay until she made a name for herself and left again. … But she was defending him when the guards were trying to take him away. She was actively trying to keep the two of them together, and the face she had…

“The face she had…” Crimson utters, recalling the hopelessness in her eyes as he was being dragged away by the guards. He can remember it so clearly… and it’s bothering him.

Those fucking guards that stopped them, with their prideful air and their snobby attitude. Crimson brings his arms in, sitting up straight and leaning forward a bit. His hands ball into fists while his mind calls forward the aggravating memories of that encounter... he'd beat the shit out of those guards, just to deflate their ego…

... But, with a deep exhale, his hands unclench. He slumps back into the couch, letting his sharpened eyes return to their lazy stare. As much as his aggressive side wants to take hold, he's gotten better than it. He doesn't let it control him anymore, especially since it only had a history of getting him into trouble. Bar fights, random duels in the street, and all sorts of horseshit that could have been avoided if Crimson had just stayed quiet and moved on against morons that would provoke him. Viola would constantly plea to him to learn to be calm... and that's exactly what he did. It's just... sometimes, it's hard to remain calm.

… Now that he’s thinking about it, in the way Moonlight might rationalize the situation, Dahlia’s defensiveness could be attributed to her simply not wanting her precious cargo to be stolen. Like Moonlight had said, maybe Dahlia’s plan backfired terribly, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that’s what happened…

“Crimson?”

The man’s brows raise, hearing Moonlight’s muffled voice call from upstairs.

“Crimson!?”

“Downstairs!” he shouts back, hand near his mouth for amplification.

“Oh! … Okay!”

Crimson shakes his head, grinning to himself. She sounded pretty worried there, probably scared that her beloved human might have just up and abandoned her during the night. … Maybe that’s not the best joke to make with such a soft-hearted pony, but still, the thought is amusing. It shows that she cares to some degree.

He hears Moonlight’s stepping and clanking from upstairs while she conducts her morning routine. Considering the amount of care she puts into herself, it might be a lengthy routine, but there’s no rush. Hungry as he may be, a few more minutes isn’t going to kill him. His stare stays fixated on the backyard, and just the very sight of the beautiful garden is enough to fill him with peace. Moonlight should feel proud, for it is an unmistakable work of beauty.

A few minutes later, clopping of hooves against tile floor can be heard approaching until they are muffled by carpet. Crimson tilts his head to the left, seeing Moonlight enter the living room. “Well, good afternoon,” he says facetiously.

“Good afternoon to you too,” she returns a shy smile.

“Sleep well?”

"I, um… I did. … I-I didn’t kick you or anything while you were asleep, right? I know I have a tendency to wake up on different sections of the bed, but I don’t know if I have any intrusive sleeping habits.”

Crimson scratches his left brow, pondering, “… Well, you snore pretty loud. You kicked me a few times, and you hogged the blankets. Not to mention occasional sleep-talk. I almost thought you were talking to me at a few points during the night.” Moonlight’s face becomes progressively more horrified as he continues speaking. Her pink orbs stare at him in dismay and her mouth hangs while her cheeks furiously redden.

Unable to keep a straight face for very long, Crimson closes one eye and smirks, "I’m just kiddin’.”

Moonlight gasps in awareness... then her brows furrow deeply, her lips pucker, and her chin tucks slightly while her chest puffs out.

… Dear lord, she's angry. Crimson can’t take this murderously adorable mare seriously. “Aw, c’mon, don’t look at me like that. I was just teasin'~"

“Hmph!” Moonlight tilts her head up, turning around and giving him her back. “I did not find it very humorous.”

“You sleep just perfect, Moonlight. I was out like a light and hardly knew you were there the entire night. Very enjoyable experience, if I do say so myself.”

“… And that isn’t you just joking?”

“Not at all,” he shakes his head, still smiling at her when she turns around to look at him again. “I, uh, took the liberty of drinking water out of that pink cup you got by the sink. Hope that’s alright.”

“Of course, please help yourself to whatever you need. Did you already eat while I was asleep?”

“Nah, figured I’d wait for you to wake up before rummaging through your stuff.”

“Oh, you don't have to wait for me! I’m very sorry. W-Would you like something to eat?”

“That’d be great.”

“… Umm…” Moonlight shifts her attention to the kitchen, pondering off the top of her head what she has in stock. “… I sincerely apologize for this, but I don't have anything that would provide you with all of your required nutrients, since... humans need to eat meat.”

“Moonlight, you don't gotta apologize for everythin'. While I sure do miss a nice chicken breast, I’m fine with eatin’ from the earth.”

“… Then, how about oatmeal and fruit?”

“Sounds good.”

Moonlight timidly smiles, thankful at his compromising nature. She turns around and moves to the kitchen, seldom using her hooves for anything and opting to manipulate everything with her magic. “It’ll be a few minutes to cook the oatmeal,” she says, glancing over at the man while simultaneously pouring oats into a pot.

Crimson nods at her, witnessing her magic handling everything with precision despite not actually paying attention to it. “It fine with you f’I hang out in the yard?”

“Be my guest!” she replies gleefully.

Crimson walks to the glass door, sliding it open and stepping out to the mid-day. The fresh spring air, surprisingly not humid despite the small flowing stream in the garden, kisses his skin. He places his fists at his hips, taking in a deep breath of pristine air, then he walks towards the picnic table that sits in the grass. He sits down on it like he usually does, backwards on the bench with his elbows resting comfortably on the table.

The soothing sound of the lazy stream accompanied by birds chirping their methodical songs bring an indescribable peace. Crimson is quickly starting to realize why Moonlight might have such a hard time leaving this place, it’s so comfortable, relaxing, and familiar. He doesn’t know how many years she’s spent living here, but judging by all of the intricate little details at every corner of the house, it’s definitely more than a few. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that she might not be too keen on leaving all of this behind, especially to trade it in for danger and discomfort.

… Still, Crimson knows that he’s going to need to convince her to step out somehow. Regardless of how great this all is, the real world remains outside of these cement walls, and it speaks bitterly against the fantasy that this home provides. The magical anomalies aren’t going to suddenly disappear if everyone pretends they don’t exist, or if they aren’t treated as seriously as they should be treated. Truth be told, he doesn’t know exactly how serious these anomalies are, but if they’re capable of killing trees and making animals rabid, it’s certainly a problem. Moonlight might be the only pony savvy enough to figure out what's causing the issue, if only she'd leave her home.

The glass door can be heard sliding open again, and Moonlight steps out with shifting eyes. She spots the man sitting at the table, prompting her to head his way. Crimson sees her holding two bowls with spoons in them and two glass cups in her magic, where the cups hold an orange liquid in them. She levitates a bowl and a cup to him, “Is tangerine juice okay with you?”

“Alright with me,” he says, taking both items into his hands. “You too good fer oranges 'r what?”

“Oranges are fine, I simply prefer tangerines.”

Crimson smirks, taking a sip of juice before setting it down behind him and commencing war against the bowl of oats and fruit. Moonlight takes her seat next to him, sitting backwards on the bench like he is. Her forelegs remain idle as the bowl of oats continues to float, encapsulated with her sparkling pink energy. Her spoon soon follows suit, grasped by the ethereal force to bring a mass of oatmeal into her mouth.

The two enjoy their brunch quietly. Crimson’s attention shifts from thing to thing, mindlessly admiring parts of the garden as he rides random trains of thought. Moonlight keeps her eyes forward or resting on the grass… but from time to time, she discretely glances at the man while he isn’t looking. Her gaze becomes less covert when something that’s bothered her comes to the front of her mind. It starts to bug her so much that she prompts to ask, “Why do you have so many scratches and cuts, Crimson?”

The man looks at Moonlight, then down to his body and arms. He finishes chewing the food in his mouth and swallows, “I got into some trouble a little while ago, before I got nabbed by Celestia.”

“… I assume it was when you were with Dahlia?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“… Would you mind if I asked what occurred?”

“Don’t mind at all. It wasn’t really Dahlia’s fault. We were explorin’ together, through some forest that’s next to Dodge.”

“The Everfree forest.”

“Is that what it’s called?” he asks for confirmation, to which she nods. “Right, well, the Everfree. We were about to head back to Dahlia’s lodge, and there was this cave system that we took as a shortcut. As you can probably expect, we were attacked in the cave.”

“… By humans,” Moonlight sighs.

“Yeah. They did a real number on me, the bastards. They're vicious.”

“Can you blame them? You were intruding in their home! They were just defending what was theirs.”

“… Suppose yer right.”

“And who’s bright idea was it to take a cave as a shortcut? Let me guess, Dahlia’s.”

“… Yeah.”

Moonlight huffs, setting her empty bowl down. “You could have seriously gotten hurt, Crimson. She is such a terrible influence; it makes me furious just thinking about how she used you.”

“Moonlight…” Crimson tilts his head to her, keeping his face relaxed and comfortable, “she didn’t use me. With or without me there, she’d be doing what she does regardless. It could’a ended much worse, but it didn’t, I made sure of it. Those humans could have easily torn us to shreds, but they didn’t... I made sure of it.”

Moonlight turns her dismal gaze away. “… And what if it did turn out worse? What if something terrible happened, and you didn’t make it?”

“You can conjure them what ifs all day, Moonlight, but the fact is that I survived. Ain’t that what matters?” he leans closer to her, resting his weight on his right elbow. He tilts his head to stare more directly at her face, the side that she gives him anyway. Her lips purse and she keeps her gaze away from his, unresponsive to his question. “… Moonlight.” Her eyes shift left but quickly return to their original position. “… Yer oatmeal was amazing.”

The mare turns her head, squinting at him sourly... but due to the goofy smile stuck on his front, she can’t hold the expression for very long. Her lips quiver, breaking unwillingly into a small smile as she adjusts her glasses. “… Thank you.”

“No, thank you for the meal. All them fruits you added sat just right in my belly, and tangerine juice’s actually much tastier than I expected. I can see why you like it over boring ol’ orange.” Moonlight’s smile grows, playing with the lock of hair on the left side of her head. “Now that I’m fueled, I was wonderin’ if you had any more tests I could tackle.”

“Oh, y-yes, actually, there are a few. … Un… fortunately, they’re not as exciting as a strength test, they’re more-so measurements and statistics.”

“I’m down fer anythin’. You just say the word.”

“Great! I’ll go get some things we’ll need. You can stay here if you’d like, or come back inside if you wish. We can work out here or inside, anything you choose is fine by me.”

“Think I’ll stay out here.”

Moonlight nods, coming off of the bench while she takes all of the used dishes into her magic. She walks back into the house, sliding the door closed behind her.

There, Crimson is left alone again, but now he at least has a full stomach. He wasn't being generous when he complimented her oatmeal, it was genuinely delicious. Something about the food that this land has, whether it be his imagination or not, is exceptional. He can't speak for the carnivorous side of the food chain, but the fruits, veggies, and grains he's eaten are so good that it doesn't make sense. ... Maybe it's magic. Magic seems to be the answer for most things in this land it seems, and Moonlight using it for pretty much everything she does only serves to promote his assumption. Perhaps not a fully sound opinion, but he feels that the other races of pony certainly missed the most overpowered gene in the pool.

Now filled with energy, Crimson doesn't stay sitting down for very long after Moonlight leaves. He stands up, stretching himself left and right and rotating his neck. He had been eyeing the rock line for a while now, more specifically the three enormous boulders at the very far end. While confident he could lift them, he didn't want to do it in front of Moonlight, not because he doesn't want her looking at him, but on the off-chance that he strains himself too much, she wouldn't have to bare the emotional toil of watching him eat shit.

Crimson quickly glances between the rock line and the glass sliding door, wondering if he's in the clear to test his might. ... No sign of Moonlight in the living room or the kitchen.

"Fast," he mumbles to himself, jogging over to the third-most immense chunk of earth. He stands in front of it, the rock marked to be 404 pounds. He takes little time to respect the fact that it's half his size before he crouches down and plants his hands around the bottom of it, holding it firmly, and puffing out a breath as he lifts it off the ground. His eyes flash with golden energy and his muscles flex, giving them copious definition.

The cold chunk of stone prods its jagged edges at his chest as he holds it up successfully with no struggle. He then crouches, planting it back down onto the grass.

He inhales deeply and his eyes slowly lose their golden sheen. Before continuing to the next rock, he turns his head like a child who stole a quarter from their parent's desk, towards the glass door... still no Moonlight.

He steps over to the next rock, the second to the last, marked to weigh 523 pounds. The size difference between this rock and the previous one is shockingly stark, it stands nearly as tall as him with only a foot or-so in difference. It doesn't deter him, and in fact, the challenging size only serves to motivate him. Following standard procedure, he crouches down and clasps his arms around the bottom-middle section of the rock. His cheek presses against the side of it, and thankfully, this one is much smoother and pleasant to hold in comparison to the previous contender.

"Hhr!" he huffs, pursing his lips as he forces the rock up. His eyes resume their glowing nature and his body tenses. The giant mass of earth is lifted high and raised above his head as if it were made of foam.

He feels it...

He feels his Arch coursing through his veins, fueling his muscles with mountainous strength. Microscopic golden orbs in his body, each burning as bright as the sun, strap onto the fibers of his muscles, allowing them to flex, extend, and contract much more greatly than they usually could. His Arch works both willingly and autonomously, where in most cases, it is both.

To raise this huge rock several feet off the ground and hold it against his chest, he mindfully channels his Arch to increase his strength, but while he channels it, it passively performs its own duties to ensure maximum efficiency, such as automatically pocketing more oxygen in each cell in order to fuel his muscles for the task of extreme or prolonged exertion. The golden orbs shield his muscles against stress, tearing, and fatigue, but it burns energy from his body to do so, and only to the degree in which he has trained it to.

Arch, a harmonious, well-oiled machine. An astronomical gift that works under his command and as its own entity to perform feats that few can, and in rare cases, none can.

Kpf! The rock hits the grass with a muffled thud when Crimson sets it back down. He lets a breath out steadily, and his eyes slowly fade to their hazel selves. He steps to the final contender, the boulder that stands as tall as he is, marked at a weight of 631 pounds. With one quick glance to see if Moonlight is coming, he crouches back down.

...

"I-Impossible..." she whispers to herself, mouth hanging in stupor at the sight she is witnessing. She looks down at the backyard from the second-floor window of her bathroom, discretely spectating Crimson perform spectacles beyond the realm of what should be plausible. Her eyes widen and she gasps frivolously, watching him lift the boulder off the ground and into the air.

He stands firmly, leaning back a bit to hold it against his chest and cheek, before heaving it up with a hop so he holds the boulder above his head. She can see his irises radiate that hauntingly graceful energy.

Her awestruck state fades when he sets the boulder down and he gives it a pat. ... It looks like he's talking to it, giving it a few words of appreciation or something. He turns around and walks back towards the bench, but not before he shoots his curious gaze to the bathroom window. Moonlight ducks quickly, emitting an 'eep' while planting her back against the wall under the window and holding her forelegs across her chest.

Crimson stares at the window for a moment longer, then he shrugs, walking towards the bench and sitting down again. He still has some energy to kill, but he's content on just waiting for Moonlight now that he's asserted dominance over the rock line.

He glances up towards the sky, seeing the sun making its slow trail across the heavens. "... Hold a damn minute..." he suddenly mutters. "... Celestia..." he squints viciously, "... moves the sun!?"

His attention snaps towards the glass door when he hears it slide open. Moonlight steps out, carrying a few thingies in her magic. She notices his stupefied front, causing her to stare back dubiously, "... Is everything okay?"

"..." He glances upwards, then back down to her. "... Yeah, Celestia moves the sun."

"... Yes?" she looks at him as if he was speaking in tongues.

Crimson comes to realize that this occurrence is common-place in her land, making only him seem like the odd one. "... So, uh... what'cha got there?" he asks, scratching the back of his head.

Moonlight comes to the table, setting a few articles down on it but keeping one still held in her magic. She has a clipboard and a quill in her twinkling hold, and she had set down a strange wooden box of sorts that has black rubber strings attached to it. Another item she placed down was a roll of measuring tape, and the last item being a needle. "A few items that will allow me to gauge the physical aspects of your body," she replies, but what is hard to miss is her strangely wobbly tone. "I-I hope you're not afraid of needles..."

"Terrified of them, actually."

Moonlight shakes her head at his jest, "The needle should be scared of you, if anything."

Crimson snickers, "What makes you say that?"

"A few things. Stand next to me, please," she directs, standing a few feet away from the table while bringing the measuring tape into her magic. Crimson stands up from the bench with an exaggerated grunt, walking over and standing right in front of her. "Back straight, chin up, eyes forward," she demands, but her soft voice makes the directions sound more like requests.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, moving his body enthusiastically in the exact order she said. The measuring tape is levitated next to him, snapped straight and held in place.

"Two-hundred and eight centimeters," Moonlight reads out, "... unbelievable."

"Is it?"

"W-Well, yes! The tallest human currently in the latest edition the Equestria Wildlife Index is recorded at one-hundred and sixty-five centimeters! You have that well-over!"

"I suppose I'm a bit taller than average, people back home would compliment my height all the time."

"What is the average height of a human where you come from?"

"Well, I ain't no anthropologist or nothin', but most folks I've met gauge around five-foot-ten for men, 'n five-foot-seven for women. Ain't sure what that equates to in centimeters, but about this tall," he puts a leveled hand to his upper then lower chest as an example. "'Course, people were taller or shorter on occasion, but it's kinda the 'catch-all.'"

"You beat even your own species in height! Oh, um, and one-sixty-five centimeters would equate to five feet and five inches."

"Ah, thanks. Considerate as you are intelligent, Lighty."

Her cheeks tint lightly as she reaches to readjust her glasses bashfully. "I-In regards to humans on Equestria and the humans from your world, your height is baffling."

"You think I'm tall? You want tall, you should'a seen my brother 'n my father. Now THEY were tall. Them bastards were over seven feet tall. About yae-high," he puts his palm just over his head.

"... Woaa!" Moonlight's eyes glimmer in awe. "Imagine..."

"Yeah, they were quite somethin', alright. ... So, uh, what's next?"

"Oh, um," Moonlight's gaze returns to the world, blinking twice, "... this."

"Gy-woh!" Crimson's eyes widen when his feet suddenly lift off the ground, feeling his body tingling at the encapsulation of her pink aura. Moonlight's eyes squint and she sticks her tongue out in thought, holding him in the air effortlessly.

After a moment, she sets him back down onto his feet carefully. "V-Very sorry," she murmurs while writing into her clipboard.

"That was somethin'."

"You weigh two-hundred and twenty-eight pounds," she states while scribbling.

"Y... Yeah. ... How the hell did you figure that out?"

"It was an educated guess, but I'm happy to hear that I was correct."

"Hot damn. I mean, it's been a while since I've been on a scale, but you guessed my weight just by holdin' me in yer magic?"

"It's a skill I learned over time."

"I'm more surprised you can even feel my weight, you picked me up like if I was nothin'."

"Of course. Things don't become weightless when manipulated by magic."

"So it was you that got them huge-ass rocks in line there."

"W-What makes you say that?"

"No need to be modest, Moonlight. Yer magic is powerful stuff. Real powerful stuff. You can pick heavy objects up like no one's business." He brings his index finger to his chin, reflecting for a moment. "... But I reckon you aren't using your body to lift heavy stuff up."

"Indeed. I'm using..." she stops speaking and writing simultaneously, "... H-Hey, what is that supposed to mean?"

Crimson's eyes widen at her flustering, "Hoho, Moonlight, c'mon now, I didn't mean it like that. It was an innocent question, I swear."

"No, no, be honest. I know what you meant, I'm not dumb."

"Moonlight," Crimson places his hands at his hips, staring softly at her pouting front. "Don't think for a second I wanted to slide a low-blow. On the contrary, I find that you're quite pretty." Her eyes dilate to pen pricks at his words. "Seriously, I was just assumin' holdin' stuff with yer magic wasn't the same as physically pickin' stuff up."

Moonlight clears the frog in her throat, gathering some mental pieces before she speaks up, "Y-Your assumption i-is correct, yes. M-Magic, um... you... it works differently by..." she stops again, staring at the grass. "... D-Do you really think I'm... pretty?"

Crimson nods, smiling warmly. "Wouldn't have said it if it weren't true."

"... Eheh... Um..." the items in her magical hold suddenly give way when her horn sparks out and the aura surrounding the items fades away. She gasps as everything falls to the grass, her face reddening terribly while she forces her horn to ignite again and pick everything up.

Crimson witnesses this with peak amusement, keeping himself from further egging on her shyness. "I think I figured it out. Magic works based on focus, don't it?"

"... Focus," Moonlight repeats and nods, shaking a small amount of dirt off of her clipboard, "mental focus... t-that's how magic works. T-The stronger your mental focus, the stronger your magic is."

"A very straight-forward concept."

"..." Her eyes are refusing to stare back at him, but she continues speaking. "... Is... is that how Arch works?"

The question takes Crimson by surprise, causing him to fall into thought. "Eeh... kind of. A part of it is mental focus, but a big part of it is mental fortitude." Moonlight appears hugely curious, signaled by her ears standing tall. "See, Arch Angels are kind of counter-productive in the sense that--"

"Arch Angels~" Moonlight coos, echoing the title subconsciously in adoration. The man seems a bit confused at her repeating his words. "Mh! S-Sorry, please, continue!"

He smiles at her, waving his hand dismissively to show he doesn't mind. " ... Where was I, uh... ah. Right. Arch Angels. That's what I am. I should have asked my dad when I had the chance, but I've got no idea where that name actually comes from. I reckon it has to do with what I look like when my Arch is manifested. As I was sayin', Arch Angels are counter-productive in the sense that our Arch hurts us. It doesn't hurt us on purpose, but more-so as collateral damage. When channelin' my Arch, it forces my body to perform above and beyond my limit, which is useful, but in turn, it causes me pain to varying degrees. Whether I'm able to put up with the pain and keep channelin' my Arch is what determines how far I can push it."

"... Magic can do the same thing if treated lightly. While focus is a big part of magic, one's will comes in to play as well. I... wouldn't compare it to the extent of your Arch, but unicorns can experience mental and bodily anguish if we overdo our magical abilities. Headaches, migraines, nose-bleeds..."

"Huh. Guessin' Arch and magic ain't too different after all. Reckon the only difference is that magic is trained fully in the mind, but Arch is like a muscle. The more you use it and the more it hurts you, the better it gets and you deal with pain better," he says, raising his left brow as he sees Moonlight scribbling into her clipboard. "... You writin' all of this down?"

"Yes! It's too fascinating not to!" She lowers the clipboard, smiling up at his skeptical front. Her smile wavers at the look on his face. "... It is okay if I write this down, right?"

"Feel free. Doesn't bother me. Just surprised that you're this into it."

"Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?" she exclaims as she writes again. "You had said that you didn't know the origins of the term Arch Angel, but you went to say that your physical appearance gives clues as to why you might call it that. Does your appearance change upon channeling Arch?"

"Yeah. It depends on how hard I'm doin' it though. You've already seen one part of it, my eyes. Not sure if you've ever heard the saying, 'the eyes are the windows to the soul.' When channeling Arch, I can feel this... weird burn deep down inside of me, like if my soul was on fire. The facts of it might be less abstract than that, but that's my take on it. Maybe the change in my eyes is due to somethin' else more science-like, but I wouldn't know. Anyways, other changes are more drastic, like being able to form wings and stuff."

"Wings?" she repeats excitedly. "Could... could I have a demonstration?" Crimson purses his lips and scratches the back of his head, looking away unsurely. Moonlight is quick to get the hint, lowering her head to give herself less height. "Y-You do not have to if you do not want to..."

"It's not that I don't want to, I'd be glad to demonstrate fer you... it's just, using that much energy to charge my Arch really takes a lot outta me. Like I said before, it's varying degrees. I can do most of my Arch stuff without them wings appearin', that's more of a 'drastic measure' type thing. I've only ever done it when it's really necessary."

"... Like when it gets really dangerous?"

"Exactly. If someone or somethin' is in trouble, you best believe I'll use every part of me to keep 'em safe. Even when I first got to Equestria and my Arch was actin' screwy, it still managed to do what I trained it to do, albeit to a lesser extent."

Crimson sees the contemplative air that Moonlight is now taking. She's internalizing his words, just the way he wanted her to. He smiles down at the thoughtful mare, seeing that he incited the exact reaction he wanted. "Moonlight." She remains gazing at the grass near his feet. "Moonlight, look at me." It takes a brief struggle with herself to do what he asks, but she warily does so. "... I wasn't lyin' when I said I'd keep you safe if we went after the anomalies. If things get real dangerous, I'll be there to protect you."

"It... it isn't that I don't believe you couldn't protect me," Moonlight turns her gaze away, "... I know you can. I saw how easily you lifted the really big rocks earlier."

"You saw that?" Crimson asks bashfully.

She nods, "I believe in you, Crimson. ... I just... don't believe in me."

"That makes one of us. Moonlight, you're intelligent, you're wise, and you've got a bank of info waitin' to be shown to the world. If there's anyone out there that can get the job done, and get it done right, it's you."

"... But, I..." Moonlight begins, but fails to keep speaking despite Crimson waiting for her to continue.

"... This house," Crimson crouches down, coming just above eye-level with her, "is beautiful. All the love and care you put into it is amazin'. It's worth protecting, and I don't think you can do that by stayin' here. The way you feel about yer home, that's how I feel about you. You're worth protecting, and I can't do that if you won't take a leap of faith. I believe in you wholeheartedly, even if you don't believe in yourself."

Moonlight, stuck in her silence, feels a burdening weight inside of her. The growing despondency on her face displays the small crack in her shell, the one that he needed to finally break it open. There are obviously many things she wants to voice right now, countless concerns and excuses... but she can't bring herself to speak even one. She is melting under his gaze, her shell is cracking further through his comforting eyes.

With a slight tilt of his head, he reaches forward, cupping her cheek into his hand. She squints at his touch, breathing unsteadily from the emotion welling in her chest. Gently caressing her cheek with his thumb, he smiles at her, a smile which sheds off the hardest layer of her indecision. She can't hold it together anymore. The isolation, the self-wariness, an anchor in her soul is yanked by the chain by Crimson's unrelenting hand, burdening her no longer.

Moonlight steps forward, burying herself into his left shoulder. Crimson returns the embrace and hugs her closely.

The sounds of birds chirping, the gentle jingle of the wind chimes near the glass door, and the soothing sound of gently flowing water, it all breathes life into the environment in which they share. Encompassed by the whispers of nature, they remain together for an uncounted length of time.

They finally break their embrace, but Moonlight's hooves remain at his sides as they stare into each other's eyes. "... Want to finish up those tests?" Crimson asks with his unfaded smile.

"... I would love to."

‎

---

‎

Crimson lays in bed, hands behind his head with one knee arched. He stares at the ceiling in silence, listening to Moonlight's quill scribbling over a piece of parchment. Moonlight herself sits at her desk, where she is writing a formal letter to Celestia. She constantly scrutinizes it to see if she made a mistake, then continues writing. After some more quiet writing, she sits back and releases a yawn, patting her muzzle gently with her hoof.

"Done, I reckon?" Crimson asks, still looking at the ceiling.

"Mhm. Hopefully she gets back to me soon... it's been quite a while since I last wrote her a letter. ... I hope she doesn't think ill of me."

"Don't think she would. She sent me to you because she cares, after all."

"Indeed... she never stopped caring about me for some reason. I trained under her wing after university, and I was placed as the Head Researcher for the Royal Research team. It was a great experience, and Celestia and I grew close to each other... but I left Canterlot. I wanted to distance myself from everything there... and unfortunately, that meant her as well. She still wrote me letters after I left, and I wrote back to her... but at some point, I stopped bothering."

"Why'd you leave Canterlot if things were goin' so well?"

"It's... was what Celestia and I agree on. Now, here I am, actually thinking of heading back after all of these years. This is such a horrible idea..."

"Moonlight, it ain't a horrible idea. It's the only place you and I know that could help out with the research on them anomalies. Even if goin' to Canterlot turns out to be bad idea, it's my idea, so you can blame me if things don't go well."

"How encouraging."

"You know me," Crimson says, tilting his head to look at Moonlight. "Besides, I'm sure Celestia ain't upset, she spoke highly of you."

"I hope so," Moonlight encases the letter with her magic, tying it closed with a red string. "If I am being truthful, I don't think I could meet her face to face if she was... angry at me."

"She ain't, and I'd bet good money that she'd love to see you again."

"... Well," she eyes the rolled up scroll distastefully, "... here goes everything." Her horn glows with its pink aura, and with a poof, the scroll is blinked out of existence.

"Woah," Crimson sits up. "... Did you really send that letter to Canterlot?" Moonlight nods in response. "Holy shit. It's really that easy?"

"N-No, it's actually quite complicated. Send-scroll spells are very difficult to master, especially when the distance is vast."

"But you just sent it like if it was nothin'."

"As a Royal Researcher, I've had many years of practice..."

"... Huh. Guess I can't argue with that." Crimson catches Moonlight yawn again, causing him to sigh through his nose subconsciously. "Time for bed, I reckon."

She nods, finishing her yawn. "It may take a while for us to get a response, depending on how busy she is. With everything that has been happening, I'm almost certain it will be a few days... maybe longer when she realizes it's from me..."

"C'mon, girly. Don't be your own worst enemy." Crimson moves the blankets on the other side of the bed, leaving the bed open and ready for her to lay down. Moonlight downheartedly gets up from her desk, taking her glasses off and levitating them to her nightstand. She shuffles into bed and covers herself up with the blankets, sighing deeply. She shuffles around and turns onto her side, facing Crimson. He is still on his back, resting with his hands behind his head. His eyes are closed, but upon Moonlight gazing over to him, he smiles. "G'night, Moonlight."

She snuggles into her sheets, covering her muzzle with them to only leave her eyes revealed. "... Goodnight, Crimson."

Next Chapter: Chapter 4: Return to Your Roots Estimated time remaining: 26 Hours, 50 Minutes