"Crim, you alright?"

"..."

"Crim?"

"..."

"… Crimson!"

He feels her hoof push at his left thigh. He breaks out of his trance, realizing again that he is standing across the dirt path to a home shaded different hues of blue. He feels like dropping back into his muse. He looks down to his partner. They stand together without another soul for nearly two miles.

"You good? Seeing ghosts or something?"

He shakes his head slightly to wave her off.

"Stop dozing off like that, or else," she partially threatens. She then focuses on the house, smirking at it. "Not much for a royal, don'tcha think? I thought... bigger. Gold, maybe? Hmh. Cosy place though."

"Don't look like much's changed."

"Crazy to think you were in there. Was it cool?"

"Very."

She frowns up at him. "Well don't say that! You won't be able to keep me out if you hype me up!"

Letting her high-pitched rambling go in one ear and out the other, Crimson's throat feels like the Sahara. He can't understand why seeing this home is making him stress this harshly. Maybe because it's only a matter of time before a maid or something appears to report them to Moonlight.

"The grass around looks nice," she notes. "Probably doesn't have thorns or ants. Napping on the fields doesn't sound too bad. Did you wanna pick a spot?"

He keeps staring at the house. He's getting progressively angrier at himself for feeling so pensive. His legs even begin to tremble. There might genuinely be no one in there.

"... Crim, you're doing it again. ... Crim." She waves a hoof up at him. She furrows her brows in mild annoyance. "... Here comes the hoof-traaiin."

"..."

"..." She rears her hoof up, ready to strike him. Even at her threat, he doesn't move. Dahlia's left brow raises. "... One." She tilts her head slightly. "... Two." She continues gawking at him for more than a few seconds. "... Th--"

"D'you..." Dahlia stops at his voice, one quivering and unsure of itself, "... do you wanna... check it out?"

Dahlia's mouth forms an 'o' and her eyes twinkle. "HAhaaalright! Hell yeah I wanna check it out! I'm dying to sleep on a comfortable bed!" Her cheer churns with confusion. "After all the trouble you gave me, why the change of heart?"

He looks down at her fiercely, causing her to shrink back quickly. "Don't worry about it. 'N you don't touch nothin'. Don't steal nothin’. Understood?"

She reassumes her posture and rolls her eyes, "Yeah, yeah.” Though her enthusiasm comes back as if it were never gone. “Come on!" she trots across the dirt road towards the house. Crimson reluctantly follows in tow.

As they approach it, he continuously glances left and right, as if watching out for the possibility of the owner appearing from the void to scold him. That would be terrible. ... Or would it? Maybe he does want that happening, if only to snap him out of this potentially horrendous decision.

Dahlia brought up a good point – why did he change his mind so suddenly? He’s racking himself with the question at every step, trying to answer the version of him that’s nagging him away. Before he knows it, he’s at the front door of the home.

The brooding man watches as Dahlia scrutinizes the door. “Any security here?” she asks.

“Not that I recall. Less they put somethin’ in while I was gone.”

“Hmm,” she pouts her lower lip. “Doesn’t look like the knob’s tampered with. No creases or bumps. Signs of traps.” She hops in place twice, patting the dirt under her. “Dirt’s solid.” She reaches for the doorknob rather confidently, the man’s heart skips a beat at this sudden movement.

Both of them proceed to jump back in fright when Dahlia’s hoof bounces right off, and an invisible shield wobbles from the disturbance.

“What happened?” Crimson inquires tensely.

Dahlia takes a moment to look at her hoof then back to the door. She reaches for the knob again, revealing the shield once more at their contact. She begins to walk around the house, silently prompting Crimson to follow her. She stops a few feet before the tall cement walls that block off the backyard. She reaches her hoof out again, and it touches solid nothing. “… A magic field,” she states. “A pretty strong one too. Guess that explains why the place hasn’t been looted yet.”

Crimson internally sighs in relief – his meddling curiosity is effectively killed, their breaking and entering being strictly denied by this shield.

“Unlucky for the egghead that put this spell here, I know how to get past it.”

The man’s eyes dilate and the intrusive desire burns again. “A bullet wan’t able to, I’ve seen it. How're you plannin' on gettin' through? You gonna try hittin’ it over and over till it breaks?”

Dahlia looks at him as if he were speaking another language. “Crim, a shield like this won’t break like that. You’re thinking of the ones an egghead can cast. This magic is different - it’s actually the type that your collar has. It's why it won't break. I’ve seen enough of these trying to protect valuable treasures. It’s kind of a pain, but there definitely is a workaround.”

Swallowing his pride, Crimson struggles to ask, “How so?”

“We’re going to need to be dirty. Really, reaally dirty.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

She grins mischievousness. “I’d say... both. Take your clothes off.”

"That's forward of you."

"Don't even start with me. Take your clothes off so you don't mess them up."

She begins taking her shirt and saddlebags off before trotting out towards the nearby beach without forewarning. With pursed lips, the man does as instructed.

‎

‎

“This is a lot more trouble than it’s worth,” Crimson grunts.

“Trust me, it’s worth it.”

“M'I almost done?”

“Mmmm…” she hums in thought, running her orbs up and down Crimson’s body. After undressing and taking a skinny dip in the nearby ocean, they trekked back to the walls of the backyard, completely soaked so they may bathe in the dirt outside. Now, both are completely covered in mud, and still pack more onto their damp bodies. Dahlia now scrutinizes Crimson's work, judging it's worth. “… Just a little more here,” she says, removing some excess mud from Crimson’s left thigh to better coat his abdomen. He watches her do this with enough enthusiasm to starve a village. She steps back and analyzes him again, mostly content with what she sees. “Did you make sure to try and get some mud under your collar?"

"Did. Plenny, I'd think."

“Great. Now. Watch... and learn~”

Crimson watches with consternation at his partner approaching the shield again. She’s effectively a statue made of mud, not one inch of her actual body or mane is present. Standing but inches away from the barricade, she closes her eyes…

… and steps forward. Crimson feels his chest tighten.

His jaw hits the ground when she phases right through the shield like it was never there. No wobble or stress, she passes through as if immaterial.

After a few more blind steps, she opens her eyes. Her face, but a hair away from hitting the cement wall, forms a cheeky smile. She turns around, beaming at the man confidently. “Easy as cake~”

His flabbergast fails to paint apparently on his muddy face.

“Your turn, Crim. And remember, keep your eyes closed! You do NOT wanna go through that!”

With a pounding heart, he does as she says. His lids encompass his eyes, turning his entire face into a mud sculpture. He begins, one uneasy step after another, towards the shield.

“Keep it coming. A little more…”

He listens to the sound of her voice becoming closer and closer as she repeats herself.

“… a little more.”

He jumps slightly when something touches his stomach. He manages to keep his eyes closed, but stops and reaches to touch the object.

“You can open your eyes now,” she advises.

He does so, immediately looking down to what he holds. It’s Dahlia’s hoof, which reached out to stop him from colliding with her. He orients himself with quick glances around, noting that he made it past the shield. “… We got through,” he states with unbelief.

“Told ya’,” she prides herself.

"How in the world did this work?"

"Easy. These shields are meant to allow organic materials through them. It's why things like air and stuff can go through, or else the ponies or plants inside the shield would eventually choke to death. I guessed there would be something that needed oxygen back here."

"And right you'd be," he acknowledges, mostly keeping his veneration to himself.

"Yeah I am. So with all that figured out, all you really need to do is cover the parts of your body that the shield is manipulated to block out with something in nature. Like mud!"

"That’s a loophole ‘f I’ve ever seen one. 'N I reckon you figured this all out with yer circadian mischief?"

"You know it!" She spreads her wings with pride, but quickly feels uncomfortable doing so. She looks back at them, then towards the man again. "Alright, let’s get cleaned up. Hard mud's rough on my coat.” She begins to pat herself off. Crimson does as she does, wiping off as best he can, making sure to drop the mud on the ground instead of getting it on the wall. Once they’ve deemed themselves clean enough, they exchange a look. “You wanna jump us over the wall?” the mare suggests.

“Wings muzzy?”

“Yup. Don’t wanna wait for them to dry.” Crimson nods and reaches to her, holding a steady pose in case she protests his approach. She accepts his advance, so he proceeds in picking her up from her armpits and holding her in front of him. He holds her like this for a moment, just staring at each other. Her expression rides from neutral to inquisitive, to quickly annoyed. “Can you not do this?”

“Do what?” he feints ignorance.

“Jump us over the wall before I kick your ass.”

He feels enough satisfaction from picking on her before she really gets mad. He turns her around and pins her to his chest with his right arm, squatting down to take a strong leap over the high wall. He jumps just high enough to vault over the top with his left arm, and fall back down on the other side with a muffled thud onto the grass.

They come apart and right themselves, taking in the space of the backyard.

“Woooah,” Dahlia immediately admires. Her magenta orbs dance around the many plants, flowers, vines, and bushes that enclose it. The small stream that flows between the flora still runs with pure, sparkling water.

Crimson takes it all in as well, feeling comparatively emotional. He notes that nothing had really changed since his and Moonlight's departure, aside from maybe the greenery becoming a bit overgrown. “What'cha think?”

“It’s like one of those gardens you see in Equestrian Digest magazines. It’s incredible.”

“Hell of a thing, ain't it? She did this all by herself.”

“Really? All by herself?" She looks to the man for his confirmation, which he delivers with a nod. "She had all the free time in the world. Must have been nice.” Her admiration shifts to analyzing. She looks around with squinted eyes, scoping her surroundings.

Crimson notices her intense focus. “Lookin’ fer somethin’?”

“Yeah, I’m… mmm…” She stops craning her neck, looking into the glass window of the sliding doors that lead into the house. “… There.”

The man builds concern at seeing her expound the house. She trots towards the door – the man responds by walking directly behind her. They stop before the doors; Dahlia squints through the glass and into the kitchen.

“Don’t even think about settin’ yer dirty muffs in the house,” Crimson demands.

This begets a bitter reaction from Dahlia – she shifts her squinted eyes to him. “You wanna get your clothes or not?”

“Not if we muck up M—” he cuts himself off before he utters her name, “—the Head Researcher’s house.”

“We’ll just clean it! It’s literally right there!”

“…” Crimson turns around, towards the impossibly flowing stream in the backyard. “I’ll use that water to clean up a bit. You just tell me what to do.”

“What, you can go in but I can’t? What kinda shit is that?”

“You know damn-well that mud ain’t comin’ off yer coat even if you rinse it. I can get it off my skin, but yer needin’ a bath.”

“Uugh. Why are you so sensitive about her house? You two MUST have been lovers.”

The man scoffs and doesn’t dignify her comment with a response. He strides towards the moving water, sitting down at the bank and reaching his cupped palm into it to clean off his feet and shins. Dahlia watches him with a grimace.

He rises to his feet once clean enough and shakes each leg, darting droplets of water around at the flora. He walks back to the sliding doors, dragging his feet along the grass to rub off excess water. By the time he reaches it, they are relatively dry. “Now, what needs doin’? You were lookin’ at somethin’, right?”

“Yeah. That,” she points boredly through the glass.

He peers in, scanning his eyes around the kitchen and the living room, but doesn’t catch what she’s trying to hint at. “’That’ as in…?”

“Uuugh! That! Look!” She hops onto her hindlegs and grabs his arm to pull him down. He leans down with her tug so they’re at eye-level. She points again, Crimson follows her hoof. It leads towards the counter in the kitchen to what looks like a marble floating on a metal plate. Now that he sees it, he acknowledges his mental lacking for missing it to begin with.

“The hell is that?”

“I don’t know what the eggheads call it but it’s what’s making the shield. We need to touch it to turn it off.”

“Easy enough.”

“It is,” she lets go of him and falls onto her fours. “Don’t screw it up.”

He straights himself and reaches for the handle of the sliding door, the cold metal of the handle greets his fingertips. He feels all sorts of wrong invading Moonlight’s home. Almost every part of him wants to back out and just leave, forget he ever tried this… but, there is a part of him which continues to reap what Magnifying had told him.

The Consortium used him for their gain. Perhaps he can use them in return. Equal exchange.

He proceeds to open the door. The air inside the home is cool, it hits him in a weak gust. He steps inside, the soles of his feet greeted by the comfortable carpet of the living room. He treks past it, setting foot on the tile of the kitchen. He continues until he reaches the counter next to the fridge, the one that holds the marble which spins slowly and emits a barely audible hum. He marvels at this little piece of magic which is somehow able to produce such a powerful shield.

He reaches out and taps it with his index finger. The humming becomes slightly louder for about two seconds before the marble descends to the metal pedestal it hovered over. It slots itself perfectly onto its little throne and it remains in silence.

“Is it off?” Dahlia asks from the backyard exit.

“Should be,” he calls back.

“Great! Now go get our stuff, would ya’?”

He sighs gently through his nose. He turns to exit the kitchen and proceeds into the hallway towards the front door. He undoes the two locks that kept it shut and steps outside of the home’s cool air and into Equestria slightly warmer evening. He walks around the left side of the home, retrieving the items they left on the ground.

He walks back with them, arms extended out with their belongings balled up, trying not to get any mud on them from the rest of his body. Once he returns inside, he tosses their things onto the floor of the kitchen tile and locks the front door again.

Visibly satisfied at seeing her bags and shirt safely inside, Dahlia asks, “You know where the shower here is? I wanna get this crap off me sooner than later!”

Crimson steps back into the living room and returns to the kitchen. He stops at the magic marble and taps it again. It slowly whirls and spins in its spot, before it rises into the air in its original position. Nothing other than this happens, but he assumes the shield is up again. He faces Dahlia, “It’s upstairs. I’ll take you to it.”

Dahlia doesn’t dispute him, leading him to approach her and reach to pick her up again. She eyes him sternly in case he tries to pull something funny again, but he doesn’t. A simple lift and bridal hold against his chest, and he’s off towards the staircase that leads to the second floor.

Dahlia keeps her eyes averted from the man who carries her, putting up a discontent look the entire time she’s held. He knows she is doing this for more than one reason.

At the top of the stairs, Crimson turns to the left and opens the door at the end of the hall, pushing it in. The bathroom is revealed, and Dahlia can’t be more excited.

Crimson pushes the curtains of the shower aside and sets Dahlia directly into the tub.

"Thanks, now how do you work this thing?" she inquires, looking to the four star-shaped valves that have red stickers in the middle of them.

"You use this one to turn on the shower," he points to the top left, "this one to turn on the tub," he points to the bottom left, "and the two on the right change the temperature of whatever yer usin'."

"Hm." She reaches over to the shower faucet and turns it to the right - the pipes work their magic to release water from the shower head. "Huuh!" She leaps back onto Crimson's chest as ice-cold water pelted her. The man instantly holds onto her, looking down at her with a raised brow. She notices his stare and glares back at him. "What!?"

"What did you expect?"

"Shut up!" She peels herself off Crimson and leaps back into the tub. With grace and elegance, she sticks to the wall of the tub and reaches around the falling water to turn the opposing faucet. The water takes a few seconds to warm up, but once it does, the mare moans in relaxation.

She sits, eyes closed and happy while the water hits her.

Crimson glazes his tired orbs on her wet form. "Think you've got it from here?" he effectively wakes her up from her daydream.

She looks over to him, her cheeks tinting lightly at realizing he was staring at her. "Yeah... I do. ..." Something glimmers in her eyes, something the man has come to notice when a thought strikes her. She turns her face away arrogantly, closing her eyes. “Now how about you get outta here while I clean up.”

He notices this shift in attitude, but decides not to prod it and follows up with a quip instead. “Thought you liked attention.”

Dahlia pretends to gag then waves him off repeatedly with her hoof. “Out. Or I'll throw mud at you.”

Crimson does as she asks and steps out, closing the door behind him. The pipes passing water into the shower creates a cadence of white-noise that provides some comfort.

...

He finds that he’s just standing at the door doing nothing. He actively keeps himself from rubbing his mud-coated hair from self-awareness. With some time to himself, he wonders what he should do. There’s a hundred things he wants to do right now, but he doesn’t want to risk getting anything dirty.

One wry thought does strike him though, one that is very close by. He looks down the opposite end of the hall. He sees it, the closed door to the bedroom. He figures he’s already at his worst – he’s invaded her home. Not much else to fall down to at this point.

He walks to it, each step unsure of itself. He passes the staircase, steadily coming to the entrance of the door.

Witi-witi-witi-witi-witi!

Crimson stops at a muffled wailing suddenly starting from inside Moonlight’s bedroom. He enters a brief panic, but quickly composes himself once he remembers what it is.

“Crimson, what’s going on!?” Dahlia's drowned voice shouts from inside the bathroom.

“Nothin’ to worry about!” he calls back with a hand next to his mouth. He lets out a breath. “Just an old friend,” he mumbles, continuing his path. He reaches for the door handle and pushes the door in, his hazel eyes glaze the inside of the room.

It’s exactly as it was. Not a thing out of place. The bed he woke up in, the rocking chair Moonlight was sitting in, the desk that sits the large device which is currently freaking out on him. It’s all the same. It’s comforting in a weird way. Maybe the ANA forgot who he was and now hates him again. If that's even possible. Moonlight's engineering is far beyond his scope of comprehension, he supposes.

He walks up to it slowly, scanning the room as he walks. He looks down at the machine, the wailing only gets louder as he stands near it. It’s very, VERY annoying, but it makes him smile slightly.

He remembers which button Moonlight pressed to turn it off, so he takes his finger to it as well – a yellow one on the left side with text under it that he can’t understand. It presses with a satisfying ‘click’ and the machine ceases its ruckus.

Peace and quiet.

His eyes trace along the desk, to some test tubes and measuring cups neatly organized next to the ANA, and they continue until he’s facing the circular window above the bed. Light fails to shine through the heavy black-out curtains hung above it, making the room much darker than it should be.

He stands here in the middle of the room, staring up at the curtain doing nothing but letting his thoughts roam.

Before he knows it, the comfortable faint background noise of the shower across the hall stops. Sounds like Dahlia’s finished. He moves himself out of the bedroom and closes the door behind him, stopping himself at the rails over the staircase and waiting next to them while the mare finishes up.

A handful of minutes later, the door opens with a little bit of steam trailing out alongside the mare. She has towels over her head and wrapped around her tail. “Heh, I haven’t had a hot shower in like… I can’t even remember. This house doesn’t look like much, but any house with a working water heater is an instant favorite.”

“That I can agree on. Things are a rarity to have where I’m from.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it, they’re stupid expensive here too. Welp, shower’s all yours.” She happily trots towards the staircase, passing him by and heading to the first floor.

He watches her until she makes it down. He proceeds to take her place in the restroom, closing the door slightly, but ensuring to leave it a crack open. He carefully moves the shower curtains to—

…

The man frowns very deeply at what he sees. A massive clump of black and grey hair stuck around the drain cap, along with splotches of mud along the tub and wall. He sighs his annoyance out and steps in with his muddy underwear, reaching down to pick up the hair clump and rub it on the wall of the restroom, so at least none of it can make it down the drain while he uses it.

He moves to turn on the shower valve. The plumbing system works its magic to jet warm water through the shower head, already pre-heated from Dahlia's use. The floor of the tub becomes quickly riddled with mud, but he’s careful with where it lands so it may be drained properly. He takes off his soaked underwear and sets it near the drain, looking to get it cleaned along with himself.

He notes a bar of soap and two bottles sitting on a metal rack hung from the shower head. He isn’t quite sure which bottle is shampoo and which is conditioner, but he’ll try to figure it out.

He proceeds to work his hygiene. As he showers, he uses his hand to swat and direct water to the stains Dahlia left to clean them up.

‎

‎

Crimson steps into the living room, towel wrapped around his waist with his damp underwear in hand. He sees the mare sitting on the three cushion couch. Her attention is briefly turned to him, as she was examining her right wing. They make brief eye contact, her muzzle scrunches because of it, and she quickly focuses on her wing again.

“What?” he prods.

“What what?” she retorts with furrowed brows.

“Gave me a funny look.”

“Funny looking guy deserves a funny look.”

“Suppose,” he concedes and tosses his underwear on top of his clothes. He takes a seat on the two cushion couch, ensuring the towel is secure before getting comfortable. It's very brief, but he notices the mare shoot him a glance again.

He decides not comment on this. A silence takes control of the air around them. Crimson’s eyes tiredly stare forward into the kitchen, focusing on nothing specifically. Dahlia continues prodding at her wing, scrutinizing each major feather.

The man feels comfortable in this quiet. Being back in this house feels almost natural, but he tries to keep that thought as far away from his muse as possible. This is all wrong, wrong in all the ways one could think. Still, it doesn’t detract the placidity he feels. He has half a mind to lean his head back and take a nap.

“… So what’s her name?” Crimson breaks out of his mind to give her a raised left brow. Dahlia looks towards him when he doesn’t give an immediate response. “The pony who owns this place.”

“Thought you’d know already.”

“Wouldn’t be asking if I did, genius.”

“You seem to know a bit about her.”

“Yeah, and none of those things are her name. Don’t ask me why it’s such a secret, but that’s how it is with anypony high in the Consortium.”

“None of yer governin’ officials give their names?”

“Except the ruling prince or princess? Nope.”

Crimson bites his lower lip in brief contemplation. “… Her name’s Moonlight. Moonlight Wish.”

“Moonlight Wish?” The man nods to her echo. “Huh. Thought it’d be something cooler.”

“Not obligated to like it.”

“Still, pretty weak name for the position. Is she cool at least? Pony like her has got a lot to boast about.”

“She don’t boast. More of a reserved type. Don’t like to make a scene.”

“Reserved, as in…?”

“She’s shy."

“Dude, seriously? The eggiest egghead in the fancy tower is shy? That’s so lame! If I was Head Researcher for those nerds, I’d be throwing my creations left and right like, 'Look at this! Uh-huh, I made this shit! Bow before me!'”

Crimson rolls his eyes and glances off elsewhere. “Guess there’s a reason you ain’t.”

“Yeah, because I’m too cool for a stupid Robe position like that.”

“They’re likely the reason you’ve just used that water heater you love so much.”

“Yeah, one good contribution for us common-pony. The rest of the shit they do is keeping the royals rich and powerful. All their fancy magic and crazy do-dads they’ve got come from those eggheads, so that no one usurps them.”

“This leads me to believe you don’t like ‘em very much.”

“Eh, couldn’t care less about ‘em. They’re as lame as any other heading figure in Equestria’s shitty government.”

“Robes don’t find the pillagin’ type fond neither.”

“Pfft, is that what they’ve told you? Their job only exists because of ponies like me. They love poking their gross stubby little horns at stuff, but they don’t ever think about where it comes from. At least the Black Horseshoes tell you to your face they wanna use you for their profit. They don’t put up an act like those scummy snobby royals.”

Crimson pauses any potential rebuttals he had.

“Plus, the Horseshoes pay waaay more than them, so they lose there too.”

“On that,” Crimson begins, “who were you tryin’ to get that ball to the day we went to Canterlot? Some Robe there?”

“Hah. Wouldn’t dream of selling them shit, not after they've undercut me multiple times. Fuck those guys.”

“Then who?”

“There’s a courier I know that lives there. He smuggles stuff and buys artifacts. I was able to find him once I bailed myself out of the Canterlot Dungeon.”

“Mm. The one you ‘n Vera discussed?”

“Yup, that guy. He’s weird, but he’ll take almost anything off your hoof.”

Crimson accepts this information and nods.

“Oh yeah,” Dahlia starts, “what was that noise earlier?”

“It was Moonlight’s child.”

Dahlia’s eyes dilate briefly in disbelief. “She left her kid here!?”

Crimson waves his hand, unable to keep as smirk off his face. “Not that type’a child. She made a magical box that finds stuff. Found me and didn’t like it. When I first got here, it did the same thing. I turned it off.”

“Where?”

“In her bedroom.”

“Huh. I kinda wanna see it.”

“Long as you don’t break it.”

“Yeah, need to take these towels back anyway.”

She begins to rise from the couch, but suddenly stops with a startle when Crimson commands with a stern, “Wait.” She turns to look at him with wide eyes. “… You left a mess ‘n a half in the shower. If you wanna ever use it again, you clean up after yerself.”

After finding out what has him worked up, she huffs into the air and frowns at him. “You were gonna use the shower anyway!”

“Don’t mean I’m gonna clean up after you.”

“I don’t get why you’re making this such a big deal.”

“Yer a pony, not a pig. Clean, or you ain’t usin’ it.”

Dahlia’s eyes raise up and she shakes her head. Crimson stands up to follow behind her. They both ascend the staircase but split off – Dahlia comes to relinquish herself of the towels while Crimson returns to the bedroom.

Once they regroup, Dahlia’s first reaction is to the brick of technology Crimson’s stands next to. “… What the heck is that?” she asks.

“Moonlight calls it an ‘ANA.’”

“Pft, well that’s cute,” she comments sarcastically. She approaches it, inspecting it from up close. “So what does this thing do?”

“It’s supposed to read magic from afar and locate it. She told me she made it because of the anomalies that were appearin’ in Equestria.”

“Ah, yeah, those things. I’ve heard all about ‘em but not once have I ever seen one.”

“I have.”

Dahlia throws him a scrupulous look. “What did it look like?”

“Like somethin’ out of a fuckin’ nightmare. It…” he stops briefly, trying to find the best description for himself before projecting it to her. “… Looked like silver… tar. Or thick ink. But looked like what a failin’ radio sounds like. Static. ‘F you can imagine that.”

Mild consternation takes Dahlia’s expression. She scans the many buttons and displays the ANA harbors, finding it be a marvel work. “… And this thing can find them?”

“Should be able to. Ain’t know how to work it except makin' it be quiet.”

Dahlia lets the knowledge sit for a moment. She lets out a mouthy yawn, smacks her lips, then focuses on the bed nearby. “Pretty big bed just for one pony.”

“That it is. Good for the both of us.”

“Hah! As if. I’m not gonna share a bed with you.”

Crimson raises a brow at her. “I still reek ‘r somethin’? It’s big enough fer you to keep to a side, ‘n I keep to mine. No harm, no foul.”

“That doesn’t matter! I just… don’t wanna!”

"I ain't gonna argue you fer a place to sleep. If you really want it, you can have it."

"Then that settles it." She huffs and looks away with furrowed brows and closed eyes.

"Reckon it does. 'Specially since you've been awkward all day, don't wanna make you more uncomfortable than you've already been."

She pins her eyes on him as a blush takes her face. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Dunno. Just an observation."

"Well that 'observation' is all wrong! I'm not being awkward, you're just being dumb!"

"I don't gotta tell you yer face is redder than a cherry. You know what I'm talkin' about."

"Dude, I'm not awkward, especially not around you! What reason would I even have to be awkward?"

"That's what I'm wonderin'." He turns around and begins to walk to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dahlia states frustratedly, trotting behind him to catch up.

Crimson cranes his head to peer over his shoulder. "The couch, where do you think? You said you wanted the bed."

"We're not done talking! I'm not awkward! I don't know what's making you say that but cut the shit!"

Crimson turns his body completely, looking at her with something akin to worry. "I'm tryin'a leave, you're the one keepin' me here. Why's this buggin' you so much?"

"Because it pisses me off when you talk outta your ass."

"Deedee, calm down. You're makin' this a bigger deal than it should be."

"I'm not! You're just--!" Her face becomes further flustered when she can't think of something to bark back at him that isn't just a mindless insult. "You're just saying things to piss me off, and it's working!"

"Do you want an apology? I can say sorry if you really want me to, just calm down."

"No! I don't want an apology! I want you to stop thinking I'm awkward!"

He lifts his palms up to ease her, "Alright, alright, you're not awkward."

"I don't think you mean it."

"How the hell m'I supposed to mean it, then?"

She lines her lips, glaring up at up at him so emotionally that her eyes glimmer. "We share the bed! You keep to your side, and you don't be awkward!"

"Dahlia, seriously, this is gettin' weird. I take back what I said, you can have the bed. We need to get rest fer tomorrow, not be doin'... whatever this is."

"Rrh," she clenches her teeth and lowers her head. She turns around and gives him her back, huffing into the air. "Yeah, whatever then. Get outta here, see you in the morning."

Crimson looks at her backside, raising his left brow with terrible confusion. "... See you in the morn'." He about-faces and takes his leave, opening the door. He looks over his shoulder to eye her one more time. She refuses to look his way.

He exits and closes the door gently behind himself. He takes a lazy stride across the hall and down the stairs, returning to the living room. He sets himself down on the middle cushion of the three seat couch, reclining back to put both arms on the backrest.

He can't understand what got into Dahlia just now. Well, he supposes that's not true. He knows what got into her, but he isn't sure why she became so emotional and dead-set over it. He's said some dumb shit to her, and her to him, but none of it resulted in an end which caused her to ignore him like she just did. He anticipates by the time they wake up the next morning, she'd have let it die. He remembers how much she stuck to the whole 'jumping on her' incident when it happened, and he hopes it isn't another situation like that.

It shouldn't be. This isn't nearly as bad as that was... at least he thinks.

He looks out to the subtly overgrown garden outside, the sunlight becoming thin. Beautiful amber shadows dance across the array of colors the flowers display. Such a wondrous home with all the love and care it could have ever wanted. And he took its owner away. He feels guilty for it. Everything that’s happened up until now is basically a direct consequence of convincing Moonlight to move away from here. The more he thinks about it, how everything’s aligned up until now, it all feels like his fault.

Maybe because it is. He lets these gnawing thoughts comfort him as he lies down on the couch, taking one of the purple pillows to rest his head on. He listlessly stares at the light blue popcorn ceiling above, waiting for tomorrow to come as quick as it shall.

‎

---

‎

"Up, Crim. Up."

He listens to her voice, but seldom reacts.

"Crimson."

He feels her hoof touch his shoulder. He sighs through his nose, only now feeling the urge to fade into sleep. His blackened eyes pry open, forcing him to reacclimate to reality. He was so close to sleeping...

"Come on, up up. We've got an hour till our contact shows up."

Crimson hauls himself up, gritting his teeth at the effort. He looks down at the towel that still surrounds his waist, then over to the clothes that are piled on the tile floor. He stands up, fixing his towel and he approaches them. He turns back to Dahlia, who is still staring at him. "... You mind lookin' away while I get dressed?"

Dahlia's ears perk up, as if not taking this into consideration at all. She does as he says. "We overslept, so hurry."

'We?' he thinks. Great to know she rested well. Along with not getting any sleep himself, she's acting as if they're on overtime. A quick glance at the clock in the kitchen shows they've got over an hour and a half still. At the very least, she doesn't seem to be bringing up last night's debacle - possibly too entertained with today's venture to care or remember it.

To the hasting mare's request, he removes the towel and neatly folds it, then takes his clothes and dresses himself as quickly as he can. The plush ball which rests in his inner pocket feels puffier than normal, but he chalks it up to the fact he had his duster off for the night. Emotions resurface at its feeling, but he keeps them all inside his heart and mind.

"'M good," he announces.

Dahlia turns around, seeing him fully equipped. As if judging him to see if he was lying or not, she grins in approval. "Alrighty, one last thing before we take off." She trots past him and heads towards the spinning marble. She reaches and holds her hoof on it. It stops spinning at her touch, but remains still as she holds onto it.

...

Crimson watches her with stipulation.

...

Suddenly, Dahlia's form is encompassed with a thin aura, and it disperses as quickly as it came.

"The hell'd you do?" Crimson presents his concern.

"Shush. Do what I did and hold onto it," the mare commands while stepping aside.

Crimson doesn't have the heart to question her this early in the morning, so he steps in and does so. He takes his index and middle finger both to the marble which resumed its spin. Again, it halts at his touch.

About ten seconds pass before the same thing happens to Crimson, the same light teal aura surrounds his frame and then pops away. He delivers an unapproving stare to his partner. "And that was...?"

"The shield knows you now. If we come back, we won't have to do that mud thing again. We can just walk right through! Just like we're gonna do right now when we leave!"

"... Hmh," he hums and he looks towards the spinning marble. It recognizes him now. That's... good, he supposes. "We headin' out now?"

"Yeah, come on. No more time to lose."

With these words, they take their leave from the house. Out the front door and back into Equestria, they trek towards Baltimare for their oncoming task.

Next Chapter: Chapter 11: The Black Horseshoes Estimated time remaining: 9 Hours, 53 Minutes