"Hey!" Crimson shouts, extending a clawed hand as he sprints. She keeps running, jumping over piles of garbage and swerving through alleyways. Why won't she listen?

He is certain she can hear him. Several times he has called her name, but she denies him any response.

The chase continues. His breath is coming in deeply through his nose. His legs kick the sanded cement under him, crunching glass and litter along the way. This goose-chase finds an irritating pattern - he begins to close the distance on her, but she darts to another alleyway. By the time he rounds the turn, she puts distance on him again.

He feels as if he's been running through the same alleys for an eternity. She just won't stop running away.

The next alley they sortie into is finally distinctive from the others. It's wider, cluttered with much more garbage, and reeks a foul stench. She begins to ascend a staircase of trashbags that leads over a barbed fence, hopping up repeatedly until she can leap over the barbs.

Crimson bothers not with the trashbags and jumps from the ground, front-flipping in the air until he crashes down on all fours on the other side. He lifts his head up. His heart skips a beat at their eyes meeting. She stands well over ten meters away but has finally stopped and turned to look at him. He sees it, her cheek, hidden behind her frazzled mane - the wound caused by Axel's refined blade drips blood down to her chin and onto the floor.

They both end up in a clearing, similar to the one where Moobs' motel is located, but the buildings in this square opening are sky-reaching and visibly more abused than other structures in the area. It must be the older emptied side of the town. This clearing looks almost like a fighting ring, one with no crowd to be had. A quiet, desolate corner lost in time.

Crimson rises to his feet, gazing at her. Both she and him pant to recover from the chase, only their breathing dispels the silence. Her magenta orbs gleam in the murky night. Her teeth are tightly clenched while deep agitation fixes her expression.

Crimson reaches his hand out and takes one step towards her but immediately stops when she reciprocates with a back-step of her own. He wants to speak, even opens his mouth to do so, but he's caught off by her yelling out first: "If you think you're gonna kill me, you've got another thing coming!"

Kill her? "... Ain't... gonna kill you."

"Then stop following me around, damn it! Who are you!? What do you want from me!?"

He's taken aback at first, but he quickly realizes that he might not exactly look like... himself. "Dahlia..."

She lowers her head and spreads her wings. "Who the hell is Dahlia!? You've got the wrong pony, freak! Damn Horseshoes got crazy talking humans all over the place now or what!?"

'Talking humans all over the place.' The idea of that throws a gut wrench. With a frown, he brings his hand to his chest. "Dahlia, it's me."

"I don't know who you are! I literally just asked!"

"... Crimson."

Her eyes brighten, giving her features a second of vulnerability, but it near-instantly returns to ire. "What? You think I'm stupid? Go crawl back to whatever lab let you lose, freak!"

"No, Dahlia, it's... it's me," he says as he tries to get closer, and again, she backs away. Why doesn't she believe him? Does she not remember what his voice sounds like? "Dahlia--"

"Rrrh, STOP calling me that! I'm NOT whoever the hell that is! And you're not--! ... You're not him!" Her teeth clench so hard they might break.

"Why don't you believe me? ..." Then he stops. A thought dawns on him like a heavenly light. He should have noted it sooner. "... You do believe me. You know it's me."

"Stop talking out of your ass! This is really starting to piss me off! Just go away already!"

"... You know it's me. If you didn't..." he points to her extended wings, "... why haven't you flown away? Why did you let me chase you?"

She looks back to her left wing with spite, then back to him. Her lips purse so tightly they tremble, "You can't prove anything!"

Prove it? He stops momentarily, letting his arms limply fall to his side. His left hand then moves to his face, lifting all of the black hair that shades his eyes and pulls it back. His hazel orbs stare into hers, and for a brief second, they sheen with gold. "Grhk!" It disperses as quickly as it comes and he falls to his knees, his hair comes back down to shade his features again. He lifts his eyes past the strands, noting a look of concern on her face from the sudden collapse. Though, as soon as he stands back up, appearing in good health, her face hardens as if she was never worried. Crimson does his best to deliver a smile, putting his hand over his chest again. "It's me, Deedee."

She doesn't reply. He takes another step towards her and she counters the step, except this time, Crimson doesn't stop walking. He continues stepping to her until Dahlia finds her flank pressed against the sediment brick wall of a building. She inhales sharply at being cornered, and like an animal with no escape, she lowers to the ground and becomes defensive. He draws near, step by step, tensing the pegasus with the landing of his boots. As soon as he's close enough, he extends his hand towards her, if only to make sure she's real.

She darts to the left, skidding on her hooves to evade his touch. She closes her wings and turns around to face him again, breathing heavily once more - not from exhaustion, but rage. The man remains put, staring back at the fuming emotional pegasus.

"Who... do you think you are?"

Her words are like salt in a wound, cold as an artic breeze. "What do you mean?"

"Dense as always. Aren't you?"

"If you could just explain--"

"Shut up! Shut up! I don't have to explain anything to you!"

"How'm I gonna understand?"

"You don't need to! You never needed to! And you never did! Back in Canterlot, after you got taken! Do you know how long I spent trying to sneak into the Castle to break you out? How much money I lost having to bail myself out when I got caught!?"

Crimson stops at this disclosure. "You snuck into the Castle? Why the hell would you go 'n do somethin' like that?"

"Why else!? To-- To--! ... You know what? It doesn't matter why, because it never really did matter! This is all YOUR fault!"

"My fault!?" He finally envenoms his tone, balling his hands into fists and stomping his right foot forward.

"Hooh, nooo! The angel's getting angryyy! Whatever will I do!?" She stands on her hindlegs and feigns an exasperated victim with her hooves at her cheeks.

"Angel?" he bitterly questions her sarcasm.

"That's the same question I asked!" She falls back to her fours, gesturing as if talking to someone. "Angel!? What do they mean 'angel'!? Are you saying that the moron that was following me around was ACTUALLY a crazy mythical being!? Figures! The glowy eyes, the speed, the strength, the-- the-- ... Rrrh! All of it! It's all your fault! For getting me into trouble, for getting napped by the Guard! For coming to Equestria!"

"Now you tell me how the fuck was that my fault. It was your plan, wasn't it? Goin' to Canterlot? For what? Why'd you wanna go there? Figure you'd be able to auction me off? Good money fer a talkin' human, right?"

Her mouth drops to the ground and her dilated pupils tremble. Her utter shock morphs twitchingly to fury. "WHAT!?"

"I didn't stutter! Lookin' to sell me off, 'long with that stupid ball we got from that death-trap of a temple! You weren't gonna help me! You even told me you only look after yer damn self!"

Both of them come to a stand still. The black air of the Slums seems even more suffocating than usual. They glare at each other, eyes filled with chaste detestation.

Nothing is spoken, even if there's much to say. Crimson feels his throat tightening with every passing second. His tongue rubs the bottom row of his teeth to stave off the anxiousness.

"Hph..." Dahlia's furious glare suddenly breaks, a desolate huff of breath escapes her mouth and her ears fall to her head. Her gritting mouth turns into a clenched frown. The words he spoke drill into the reaches of her heart. The display shakes Crimson to his core, but there isn't a second to lament what he said. She immediately tries to harden her front again. "You're smarter than you look! Yeah! Yeah, I was!" Her voice lacks the same boom from before, but not starved for aggression. "Glad you figured it out! I was hoping to make a killing off you before I went back to Dodge! Six-thousand bits off your ass! Easy! I would have walked away rich and you would be some other idiot's problem! And it would have played out that way if the stupid Guard didn't ruin it! Had it aaall mapped out!"

Crimson's heart plummets to bedrock. His anger melds with his despair.

"I don't know where you came from, or what the hell you're doing here... but Leave. Me. Alone. We don't have any business together. And the sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better--"

"No," the man suddenly snaps back. "That just ain't the truth."

"You're not the judge of that, you arrogant piece of shit."

"We got plenny business together, else you wouldn't have stood here and listened to me. Else you wouldn't have tried breaking into the Castle to get me out."

"Hrrh! I WAS TRYING TO GET YOU BACK SO I COULD SELL YOU! SELL YOU. PROFIT OFF YOU. YES, HELLO, GOODBYE! GET RID OF YOU! DON'T YOU FUCKING GET THAT!?"

"Best believe yer not gettin' rid of me that easily. Gonna give you what you deserve."

The threat stuns her briefly. Her wings expand, ready to take off at the drop of a coin. Her unremitting anger adds a cheeky grin and she kicks some sand with her hindleg. "I dare you to try."

"I damn sure will."

At blinding speeds, Dahlia darts up at his final word. She ascends into the night sky-- "Geh!"

A cumbering weight slams into her several meters into the air and grips the base of her wings. Time slows as the thing that collided into her stares deeply into her soul, their noses nearly touching. His golden eyes glitter, placing a dance of sparkles upon her own. Together, they descend towards a building. Crimson flips them around to take the impact on his back as they crash into the wall of a factory - the breaking of weak cement and drywall sings a ruckus into the still night. The simultaneous hits from landing on his back and the collar's drain nearly causes him to lose his grip on Dahlia.

"HRH! LET ME GO! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL--!"

Crimson keeps holding her body and the base of her wings, keeping her pressed against him to give little room for kicking. He begins to feel the burning warmth of a cut forming upon his cheek, where the one on Dahlia's begins to fade away.

Her fighting and fidgeting come to a halt once a tingling tide passes through her, flowing from the base of her wings to the tip of her muzzle. She shivers lightly and her eyelids come down halfway. After the healing is complete, Crimson lets go, and so does the wave of peace.

Reality crumbles upon her again, and with clenching teeth, she kicks off Crimson's chest. The man grunts and sits up, holding his plexus. She lands a safe distance away, angrily glaring at him as he rises to his feet. Once he's upright, they exchange silent, bitter stares. Another stalemate overcomes the air. Neither of them have anything to say.

...

"Reckon we have a lot to talk about," Crimson finally announces.

Dahlia closes her eyes and lets out a deep, trembling sigh. Under the dim night, the edges of her eyes glitter. Without a word of her own, she turns around and begins walking away. Crimson gets off the ground and pats himself off, taking a pace. He tails her with a lag of a few feet.

She feels his eyes piercing the back of her head. Despite this, she doesn't further acknowledge him and continues walking through the factory.

The two trail past run down machinery, those used for a cider brewery many decades ago. Creaking metal, backdraft and whispering winds, the eeriness only worsens the tension between them. The disorganized crunching of sand and dust under hoof and boot is their only conversation.

Dahlia pushes a double door down the middle, sending it off its weak and rusted hinges to fall onto the ground. Crimson half expected her to take off flying or start running away again, but she doesn't. She keeps walking at her usual pace, leaving a cloud of dust behind for Crimson to walk through.

He holds his breath through it then sighs silently, resuming their empty walk cycle.

As they keep moving, the area takes on familiar structures and paths. Having walked for nearly ten minutes nets them back to the center of the Slums. Judging from the turns Dahlia is taking, Crimson assumes she's heading back to Moobs'. That's what he hoped for, he needed some way to get back.

He'd be correct. Another ten minutes of silent strides puts them in the clearing where the motel is. They continue until they hit the wooden porch of the building, crunching sand replaced by creaking wood.

Dahlia, with more respect to its integrity, opens the front door with her shoulder as it was left partially open. She enters, then Crimson a few seconds after her.

The man notes that Moobs isn't in the front, and... neither is Axel. What he does see is a door behind the receptionist desk being left open. Peering past the doorframe shows a yard at the back of the motel where Moobs is digging a hole at the far end. Not digging, it seems. Covering. Filling up a hole that was already dug.

Crimson stands frozen in the middle of the lobby, peering past the doorframe. The sadness that churns inside him is almost dizzying. Everything happened so quickly, there was little to be done about... anything. He feels the urge to let his emotions surface, but for some reason, they don't. They refuse to. Not even one lonely voyager to course a path along his face. The only solace he takes is that his friend is in good hooves. Moobs is tending to him.

The camel may have tried to kill him, but now he understands. He staves off his vengeance for the moment.

With a spiritless turn, he walks towards the rooms where Dahlia went. Turns out she's still trying to unlock her door, the one at the farthest end, her unsteady hooves tremble with the key. Her breathing is very tense, he can hear it even from down the hall. Her frustration and melancholy surrounds her like an invisible fog.

She winds up dropping the key and curses to herself, extending her wing to pick it up. She didn't pay attention to the man's approach, so when his hand takes the key before she does, her entire body quivers in fright. She looks up at the shaded man, angst flaring up again.

Crimson looks at the door nob, the one which belongs to the room which apparently had an infestation. He reaches with the key and slots it into the nob, giving it a turn, and pushes the door open. The room looks far from invested by insects.

Dahlia snatches the key back from his hand and steps in carelessly. Crimson watches her as she moseys to the bed and throws herself on it.

Carefully closing the door behind him, he takes a look around. Same room as his, though some of Dahlia's belongings are set around, indicating that they've been here all this time. It's a possibility since he never bothered to check this room. Maybe Axel knew.

Her green saddlebags are propped up against the bed, there's an open book face down on the coffee table, and a spare shirt of hers - torn and tattered - is left on the lampshade on the nightstand. The mare herself has her front buried into her pillow, letting her black/silver mane and tail splay around wildly.

"... You wanna explain why any'a this happened?"

“Leave me alone,” she says through the muffle of the bedsheets.

“You ‘n I both know better.”

She flips onto her back with an elongated sigh. “I don’t feel like screaming at you right now. Just shut up.”

“You killed my partner.”

Discarding what she aforesaid, she sits up, her face reddening rapidly. “Uh, he tried killing me!? Hello! Equestria to dumbass! You tried killing me too!”

“That ain’t the full truth.”

“What you did was dumb luck! Moobs saved me, and you know it!”

“Count yer blessin’s, girl. He's dead and yer not. Why’d Axel try killin’ you?”

“Because he’s fucking crazy! And a sore loser!”

“Then you two knew each other. Enemies?”

“Enemies doesn’t even begin to describe it, and I don’t wanna talk about it!”

“Cryin’ shame you don’t, ‘cuz I won’t be movin’ from this here spot ‘till you do.” He points to the floor where he stands, right in front of the door.

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking annoying! Why did you have to show up all of a sudden!? How’d you escape the Guard!?”

“None’a that sounds like an answer to my question.”

“Rrrrh!” They throw spiteful glares at one another, with the pegasus about ready to jump up and attack him. The man stands firm, undaunted, hands as fists, and keeps this staring contest on for as long as he needs to.

...

...

...

“… FINE!” Dahlia finally caves in, spitting her words from anger. “WE USED TO WORK TOGETHER! I WAS BETTER THAN HIM, AND HE GOT PISSY ABOUT IT! END OF STORY!”

Crimson mulls her words, even through how aggressive they were.

“You fucking happy now!?”

With a doleful sigh, Crimson steps to the wall next to the door, putting his back against it and sliding down. He sits on the floor with crossed legs, leaning his head back on the wall and gazing to the ceiling. Very few times in his life has he been in a situation that doesn't let him willingly think. The weight of this situation, though, is making this to be one of those times.

Dahlia turns and drops herself back down onto the bed face-down, huffing into the pillow.

The night drowns in a terse silence.

‎

---

‎

Nothing indicates that morning has come, except the room's boarded up window. Very little light from the outside is allowed to come in, the telling of time is mostly obscured in this ramshackle room.

Crimson's eyes burn. His sclera is straddled with veins while a deep blackness highlights the lids. He couldn't sleep. The best he got was thirty minutes, broken between small intervals throughout the night. The monotony had set in many hours ago.

What breaks it now is Dahlia's shuffling. She had been face down the entire night, which initially concerned Crimson. That is, until she flipped over onto her side for a bit before returning to her original position. That was hours ago.

Though now, she does it again. She flips onto her side, stays like that for a few seconds, then continues rolling until she is facing the ceiling. Crimson lifts his gaze to her. It's quickly obvious that she didn't sleep for shit either. Dark circles encompass her eyelids; a mindless squint of eyes that refuse to stay open on their own.

Crimson can tell she's aware of his presence. Even then, it takes minutes for anything to happen.

"Rough night?" he comments.

"You think?" she replies simply. "... You?"

"Yeah."

Lined lips, fiddling tongues. Both don't follow up after that for some time. The burning urge to ask a million things is suppressed, especially after the tense ending to last night, but one finally escapes the mare's mouth. "... Hey. Why'd you take my cut away?"

"... Mh?"

"Don't act dumb. The one Axel gave me. Why'd you take it away?"

"..." Crimson's dark eyes blink very slowly at the ceiling. Dahlia waits for a response, growing rather impatient at his silence. It isn't before long that he finally replies, "... An apology."

She furrows her brows at him in uncertainty. "... For?"

"... Tryin' at yer life."

"..." Dahlia is the next to stay silent. She looks down at the bedsheets and internalizes what he's saying.

"You ain't gotta forgive me. But just know if I knew beforehand what was goin' on, I'd'a never agreed to it."

"I already figured you didn't know it was me you were jumping. The look on your face said it all."

He gently bites his lower lip in muse. "... Still. I beg your pardon."

"It's whatever. Like you said before, I'm still alive." The two regress into a momentary mental reprise, trying to wrap their heads around their current situation. "... Hey," Dahlia calls up again.

"Mh?"

"For what it's worth, I feel bad about what happened. I've..." she trails off briefly, causing Crimson to look over to her directly, "... I can't believe I killed somepony."

"... First time?"

She shakes her head slowly, taking in a stuttering breath. "... Second."

Crimson acknowledges silently by pursing his lips. "... Who was the first?"

"..."

Dahlia recedes into her shell. He can tell she strictly doesn't want to talk about it. "... Pardon my askin'."

"It's whatever. Don't apologize for everything."

A light tension floats between them. Crimson tries to call up something less personal, and the most interesting question he conjures is, "You really got caught tryin'a bust me out?"

She looks away and takes a hoof to the back of her head, bitterly recalling the events. "Yeah. It was expensive as fuck to bail myself too. I wasted pretty much everything I had saved up."

"How much was it? I'll try to pay you back fer it."

Dahlia shakes her head, "Don't worry about it, it was a dumbass move visiting Canterlot when they were having their monthly rally anyway. Totally forgot they land on the last Friday of each month."

"Was unfortunate timing. You forget the date 'r somethin'?"

"Yeah. Taking care of you after you nearly kicked it in front of the temple really threw my plans out of whack. Didn't have a calendar in that cabin."

"Sounds like I fucked up more than'na few things."

"Damn right you did," she shoots a stern glare his way, but drops it and looks elsewhere at nothing. "It's whatever, though, I've more than made up for it these past few months."

Crimson nods very slightly. "Been busy, have ya'?"

"You too, from the sounds of it. Glorious angel." Dahlia crosses her arms over her chest. "Would have been great to know, jerk."

"I'm bein' as sincere as I can when I say this: I couldn't remember. Somethin' happened to me, somethin' you wouldn't believe even if you wanted to. It only came back to me after I nearly killed myself liftin' a rock."

The mare gives him a hung-mouth glare of pure judgement.

"See?"

"You couldn't remember you were a super powerful angel thing... and you remembered lifting a rock?"

"That's the through and through of it."

"... Do you know how dumb that sounds?"

"Didn't think of it too hard, but now that you word it like that, yeah. Pretty fuckin' stupid."

“Plus, what was up with your eye thing?”

“’Chu mean?”

“Your eyes. You did that glowy thing so I could believe you, and like… fell. It looked like you were in pain.”

It clicks like a spark, “Ah. Yeah. This,” he moves his duster collar out of the way to reveal more of his neck, demonstrating the device that binds him.

It takes Dahlia a moment to notice it, appearing mildly confused at what he’s trying to show him. “… Huh. Is that a collar?”

“It is.”

“… One of those magical Horseshoe ones?”

“The very one.”

“It’s stopping you from using your… eye thing?”

“Yeah, my eye thing. Not sure about the mechanics of it, I’m able to use some things.”

“Like your mending thing.”

“Exactly. Haven’t exactly ‘tested’ the do’s ‘n don’ts.”

As Dahlia keeps staring at the collar, many bright assumptions play in her mind. Crimson can tell she’s envisaging scenarios rather inappropriate to most, given away by the growing smirk. “… So—”

“No,” Dahlia is interrupted by him. “Not talkin’ about it. Unless you know a way to get it off.”

She tries to wave off her grin, shifting her eyes to the top left corner. “Nope, sorry. No luck. Those keys are found few and far between.”

“Figured.”

"Aside from getting the dog treatment, everypony knows about your angel stuff. Did all of Canterlot find out what you were after you lifted that rock? What, were you in a strong-pony competition or something?"

"Nah, wasn’t in public. Just one pony witnessed it. She passed everything on to Celestia, spread like wildfire then."

"Huh. Pretty important pony if she was able to talk to Celestia directly."

"You can say that. She's the Head Researcher of Canterlot."

Dahlia stops and pops her eyes wide, leaning forward at him. "The Head Researcher!? That pushover unicorn that everypony thought killed herself!?"

Crimson's brows line quickly, getting a flashback to a comment he heard much before. "... Yeah. How do you even know that?"

"Dude," she glares boredly, "remember who you're talking to."

He isn't satisfied with this answer but doesn't press it further. "... Right, well. Her. She witnessed it first."

"What in Equestria were you doing with the Head Researcher anyway?"

"... It's... complicated." He holds the side of his head with his hand, thinking back. "Puttin' mind to it, we've got a lotta catchin' up to do."

"... Hmh," Dahlia huffs and falls back down onto the bed. "... This is so stupid."

"What is?"

"This," she flings her arms into the air to signal everything. "You. What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that? Why is your hair black? What is wrong with you?"

"Are you expectin' an answer to them questions?"

"Do or don't."

Crimson takes some time to ponder the simplest way he can. "Why I'm here? Guess you mean the Slums. Tryn'a get in cahoots with the honcho here. Why'm dressed like this? Helps me blend in. Why's my hair black? Same reason. What's wrong with me? ... Yer guess is as good as mine."

Not having expected a genuine response, Dahlia is quickly flooded with information. "Woah, woah, wait... what?" She sits up again. "The honcho? Blending in?"

"Heard it first."

"All this crap makes it sound like you're trying to get IN to the Horseshoes. Why? Why the hell would you want to do something like that?" Crimson simpers slightly. "... And what's with that smile?"

"Just funny hearin' you say that."

"Say what?"

"'Hell.' Have you kept sayin' that since we've met?"

Dahlia's head notches back as if she was terribly insulted. "... W-What's it to you?"

"A little amusin', is all. Stuck with you after all this time. It's cute. What's it been? Two months?"

The tan mare recoils at the suggestion and stutters incoherently to spit toxicity, but nothing legible makes it out of her mouth. "Shut up!"

"So I'm right," Crimson grins.

"Annoying as ever!"

"Hey, hey, I'm not blamin' you. At least yer usin' it right, even if you don't know what it means."

Dahlia scoffs and looks away and falls silent. Crimson feels mildly satisfied throwing her into a corner, but what she says next, along with her body language, makes him feel guilty rather than accomplished. The pegasus drops her ears to her head and frowns, still looking away. "Yeah, it's... been a little over two months."

Crimson bites his lower lip, thinking back on how long it's been since she saved his life. "... Yeah. Feels like I just got here. Time flies, don't it?"

"I guess it does."

"Safe to say we're still a team?"

Dahlia looks at him with silent judgement. "There's a hundred other things you could be worried about. That's really your concern?" The man nods twice. "What is wrong with you?"

"I think I've answered that already." Crimson smirks and looks away, leaning his head against the wall again in a sleazy manner.

Seeing that she isn't going to get an answer she wants to hear, she groans her exasperation and falls back down onto the bed, glaring needles at the ceiling. "I'll never get you."

"Maybe not. But least this time you don't gotta drag me around, right? No poison to spit out. Gotta count fer somethin'."

"I might as well drag you around since you still wanna be 'partners.'"

"If you insist."

Dahlia scoffs. "It wasn't an offer, dumbass. Walk by yourself."

Crimson holds back a snicker and holds up a palm. "Was just jokin'."

"A joke? Is anyone laughing?"

"I am."

"You don't count. Stop making jokes, the only one--"

"--allowed to make jokes is me." "Allowed to make jokes is you."

Dahlia's brows raise with incredulity as he finished the line along with her. She's surprised that he remembers that she ever told him that. "... Y-Yeah. And that's still true! So cut it out!"

Crimson closes his eyes with a smile. Dahlia watches him, growing more annoyed the longer she looks at him. His smug lips, his eyes shaded over by his black hair. His sleazy reclining, his naturally aloof air. Even though he looks different, he acts the same as he did when they first met.

She watches his smile slowly drop, leaving him to his resting expression. He stops moving save for paced breathing.

He fell asleep. Her lips become a horizontal line, a boiling frustration takes her heart. She has half a mind to just get up and punch him as hard as she can.

She eyes him silently for an uncounted time.

...

With a peeved grunt, she rises from bed and walks to the sleeping man.

‎

---

‎ ‎

"Hahaha! Wow, that's great!" Magnifying exclaims in a near-shout. "I always knew you'd have a hoof in the final verdict!"

Moonlight, who sits across the lab table eating a salad which was brought to her by the stallion, nods with a mouthful. She swallows before speaking, "The human policies take affect this coming Friday, letters are being sent to all major cities tomorrow morning. I never thought I'd have a hoof in anything important. Much less amendments to the Doctrine."

"Please, Moonlight, give yourself credit! You're always putting yourself behind when you're ten steps ahead!"

"I don't want to boast."

"You're the last one anypony would consider a boaster! You give so much and take so little, the world should be paying you favors at every end! With everything you've done in the advancement of magic studies alone, I don't think there will ever walk another pony like you. ... You're special." Magnifying lifts a trepid smile. "Very special."

The musing unicorn sets down her fork, staring down at her food with little expression. "... Magnifying?"

The stallion straightens his back at hearing his name called by her suddenly. "Y-Yes, Moonlight?"

"Why do you like me?"

The stallion rocks his head back, bewildered at the question. "W-Wha... I... I couldn't answer that."

Moonlight continuously stares with half-lidded eyes right through her salad and into the void. "Why?"

"... Because, Moonlight. I don't like you. I love you. I love you like nothing else - so much so, that it almost hurts, heh," he grips his chest at his Scribe cloak to emphasize his emotion. "There's a million reasons I can give why. I'll happily list every single one... if you would like."

Moonlight lifts her gaze towards him, staring deadpan. "... Would you really do that?"

"Euuh, w-well... y-yes! I would! Would you a-actually like it if... I did?" Moonlight sets up a very weak, tilted smile, and nods. "Hehe~ Wuh-Well, where do I begin? F-For starters, I simply adore your intelligence. Your equations, methods, processes, the way you articulate your expansive knowledge bank so clearly -- oh goodness, don't even get me STARTED with your enchantment reversal proficiency! I also thoroughly enjoy your--"

Moonlight hears his compliments, his adore, his gushing indulgence...

... why doesn't she feel... 'it'?

His speech turns into background noise as he drones on endlessly. His mouth moves, and moves, and moves... and moves...

... and moves...

‎

---

‎

...

"After this, I'll make DAMN sure you get where you need to be. Whoever or whatever score you wanna settle, whatever vendetta you have against the Black Horseshoes. I'll be your guy. Hold me to that."

...

"I care about you. Heck, I'd go as far as to call you my friend."

His voice is soothing. A comfort. The right amount of youth ingrained with a scratch of maturity. A charismatic brogue.

They stand together at the edge of the pier in Los Ungulas, gazing up at the moon in silence. A cool breeze and the crashing of waves pushes their hair along the gust. Stars glitter in the sky, appearing as if dancing to an unsung melody.

Crimson looks over to his right, down at his companion Axel. The stallion still stares up at the moon, a small smile formed upon his lips.

At noticing being stared at, Axel returns the look. They exchange a slightly widened smile and return to looking at the moon.

"... Beautiful, right?" Axel suddenly comments.

The man takes a moment to listen to his voice, if only to internalize it one more time. "It is."

"What do you think is up there?"

Crimson purses his lips in thought, but gives up and returns his smile. "... Who knows."

Axel seems satisfied with that response, nodding an agreement.

"... I'm sorry, Axel."

The stallion looks to the man with slight confusion, still holding his simper. "For what?"

"..." Crimson clenches his teeth, trying to steel his nerves. "... Just..."

"Sky." The man feels the urge not to look at him but does so anyway. The grin on his friend's face has yet to waver. "Keep your head up, man. No need to be sorry. Not for anything. ... Look," Axel points up to the sky, towards a specific shining light.

The man follows the point, noting an amber-orange gleam with a faint teal aura around it. The man stares at it in child-like wonder, admiring this uniquely acquitted star. "... Kinda reminds me of you."

"Heh, right? I remember looking up to it as a colt. My favorite star."

"Like if it was meant just fer you."

"..."

"..."

Crimson clenches his teeth once more. The star pulsates and shifts ever so slightly, accentuated by the thin aura that surrounds its magnificence.

"Do me a favor?" Axel calls.

"Mm?" the man hums without looking away from the star.

"Look up every once in a while."

The man furrows his brows and glances over to...

...

... nothing.

He stands alone at the edge of the pier. The winds suddenly feel heavier, the tides lapse and crash against each other. He faces forward, out to the deep dark horizon line that spans into infinity. He looks up again, right at the amber star that glitters even brighter than before.

...

The star becomes blurry, glimmering with more intensity. Until it all fades.

Next Chapter: Face Value Estimated time remaining: 12 Hours, 12 Minutes