A customary searing of pain as consciousness returns, along with every other mortal coil. Sensation returns first, he feels his body tremble. Everything is so sore he could ignite at any second. He also feels a peculiar weight at his right arm, but he waits for his body to catch up before trying to interpret external stimuli. His hearing surfaces from underwater, noting the heavy pattering of rain upon the room's windows. His olfactory restores, and it floods with the scent of soup.

He gains the strength to pry his eyelids apart, but only momentarily. They close, reopen slightly, then close again a few times before they agree to stay open. He ogles an amber-orange wood ceiling. Such an unfamiliar sight ushers confusion.

His bearings come to him once he shifts his eyes around, taking in that he is inside the Rooted Greens. Somewhat acclimated to conscious existence again, he looks down to see what is wrong with his right arm. His pique brings the raising of his brows, seeing that a little tan pegasus has wrapped herself around it. Not only is he relieved that nothing happened to his arm, but he feels a fuzziness inside of him. Dahlia is actually demonstrating some sort of affection. No sputters of anger or embarrassment from her sleeping form. He is unable to keep his aching face from smiling, making the soreness just a bit worse.

After he spends a moment relishing her comfort, he looks just beyond her. Her saddlebags are haphazardly lobbed onto the bed with things spilling out, and there is a few unfamiliar documents and folders right besides them. He does not know how long he has been asleep but he assumes Dahlia returned to the Brains to pitch them their success.

He reminds himself of what happened in that ring. He recalls the fights, the three humans he was pitted against. … He remembers Heidi.

With her name and face coming back to mind, more memories flood in but some black out completely. He strains his brain trying to figure out what happened after that fight. He won, the crowd cheered, Dahlia was mortified, he lost consciousness, and then… the Rift.

He rests his head back down onto his pillow, enjoying the comfort of a soft bed and a warm body keeping him company. The sounds of the wind and rain outside his room make unleashing his tension a bit easier. He appreciates the rain – it is something that rarely blessed him back at Earth. Living and tending to a farm in a desert was not optimal, but he managed.

He holds hope he returns home to Viola soon, the pain of seeing his home again without her there digs at his skin. The simple fact that he returned to his Rift, just as he left it months ago, is more than encouraging.

He ruminates on Heidi’s dying words, and how they coated his soul with realization. He feels stupid, idiotic, anything under the sun that speaks against his stubbornness. He has constantly stifled his gift. He always thought of it as a curse, one bestowed upon his ancestry and his alone. As if it had a mind of its own, it erupts and controls him when he least expects it. Sometimes he allows it, other times he suppresses it.

When the two scoundrel scumbags attacked him and went after his sister as children, it awoke. He let it control him. He allowed it to run free and do its supposed duty: shield, protect, and survive.

His showdown against Michael and his small army, the physical toil put upon him at being shot at repeatedly tugged his Arch to awaken. But he denied its wake. He slogged through the pain and became progressively weaker as the stand went on.

He denied it to spite Michael. Viola was less than approving. Had she had the heart to truly speak her mind, she would have scolded him just like his own mother used to, taking off her shoe and chasing him around with it all the while.

Viola was right. He already knew she was right, but his own stubbornness is a force to be reckoned with. Even now, he still hold his grudges. Heidi only served to confirm how moronic he has been about using his gift. And now that he is in this position, he cannot use it. Not if he wants to single himself out and ruin the façade he spent so much time working on.

Regardless, he feels as if he is getting closer. Entering his Rift even with the collar’s impediment, it is encouraging. He can see Viola again. Hopefully.

Now working for the Horseshoes, he has gained the mileage he needed. He can almost see it, but yet to tangibly grasp it is another story. What Dahlia said back at Moobs’ hotel was right, the human dilemma in Equestria really is not his business. But he cannot imagine returning home with this enigma chewing at the end of his moral compass, or whatever is left of it.

He closes his eyes and tries to relax. Once the sun comes up and Dahlia wakes, he can resume his venture and get his questions answered.

‎

‎

A meek shuffle, a gentle moan, then a wide yawn. Dahlia returns from her satisfying sleep with a tight closing of her eyelids before opening them. She notes that she still holds his arm, and he has yet to move. She huffs, both from stress and relief, that he is still passed out. A quick look around the room shows that it is still dark out from the rain clouds, but likely already morning. She couples up to his arm again, nuzzling her forehead against his shoulder.

He responds by taking the hoof of her hindleg into his caressive hand.

“Gyah!” Dahlia unlatches from him and shoots up from the bed, hovering in the air with her wings in fright. The man grunts in pain when she comes off his arm and lets it fall back onto the bed. “Y-Y-You’re awake!?”

“G’m—” he tries to call, but finds his throat far too dry to speak. He clears it, wets it, and tries again. “G’mornin’.”

She stares back at him in horror. “Answer me, damn you! Wh-When did you wake up!?”

“Shh, Dahlia,” he lifts his pointer finger to his lips with a pained grunt.

Her face reddens in embarrassment, letting herself come back down onto the edge of the bed. Though her trepidation quickly loses the spotlight when she sees the amount of pain he struggles through every time he moves or speaks.

“… Y… You okay?” the man asks coarsely.

Dahlia becomes visibly exasperated at his question. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He purses his lips, wincing again. “Sorry fer askin’.”

She feels a pang of guilt not only from his apology, but for her unnecessary aggression. “It-- No, it… it’s just, don’t ask me if I’m okay, okay? Because I am! You’re not okay, you look absolutely terrible!”

“Thanks.”

“Food!” Dahlia spouts in eureka. “Are you hungry?” As Crimson pries his pained lips apart to reply, Dahlia zips over to him and puts both of her hooves a centimeter from his mouth. “Don’t answer, you need food. Soup okay? Don’t answer that either, you’re getting soup.”

Crimson smiles slightly at her worried rush, wincing in pain as he lifts his right thumb up. “Sounds great.”

Dahlia beats her brow and growls at him. “Can you not move so much!?” He lets his hand come back down slowly, giving her a confused look. “And stop talking!”

Her antics went from admirable to quickly worrisome. She sounds more than troubled. “Why?” he inquires, grievously gritting his teeth right after asking from a shot of pain traveling across his face.

“That’s why! Stop moving and stop talking!”

“Girl, this ain’t nothin’ to—”

The mare heatedly looms over Crimson, her burning magenta orbs glaring right past his hair and into his eyes. He sees it, how they tremble and still dance with the urge to well with emotion. “Stop. Fucking. Talking.” Crimson’s chest tightens at seeing her nearly start tearing up. “Please.”

She retracts her face away and sits on the edge of the bed, giving him her back. She flexes her body, her wings, then sighs brokenly into the rest of the room. After a tensely silent moment, she hops off the edge of the bed and trots to the door, making a discreet exit.

He is left alone for only a few minutes, but it feels much longer than that. Left to his own thoughts, Crimson is having serious trouble trying to figure out what happened and why she is acting like this. Sure, the fight was gruesome and brutal, but he figures she should be accustomed to witnessing senseless violence. He may be roughed up at the moment, but it is not anything he cannot handle, he thinks. To him, none of this explained why she is reacting with such harsh emotion, it is very unlike her to act like this. … Or that’s his assumption, at least.

‎

‎

The metal spoon in Dahlia’s hoof dips into the soup for the dozenth time, catching and bringing up the hot liquid. She brings it up to her lips and gently blows on it to cool it off, just as she has repeatedly done. She then reaches the spoon to the man’s mouth, letting the warm contents accurately pour into his slightly pried lips.

Crimson is not sure who is more embarrassed by this literal spoon-feeding, him or the mare that tends to him. He feels like a child being cared for by their mom after catching a cold. It is pleasant, it is comforting, and it is the last thing he expected from Dahlia, but alas, here they share this embarrassing moment. At least swallowing the soup is not hurting nearly as much now as it first did.

Once there is too little liquid in the bowl left for Dahlia to spoon any more, she raises it to her lips and drinks the last few drops. She puts the bowl down on the ground beside her, exchanging it for a beaker of water. She is glad the barkeep was able to accommodate her weird request to get water in a glass beaker instead of a normal drinking cup. She takes the water and holds it just above his chin. “A little wider,” Dahlia commands.

Crimson winces slightly at getting his mouth opened a bit further.

“Like that,” she affirms. She begins to pour a little bit of water into his mouth, waiting until he swallows, and pours again. Within a minute do they finish getting hydration back into his body.

Dahlia takes the beaker and bowl towards their door, leaving the used dishes outside in the hallway.

Crimson watches her from the corner of his eye. He lets his gaze follow her as she heads for the door. A wave of surrealism hits him like a blast of wind. A colorful little pony with wings is tending to his health and working to get him back into shape. This feeling is so damn random, he has been in this land approaching three months and it always finds a moment to return. He supposes he cannot be blamed, living his whole life with his own kind. Only a few months with ponies pales in comparison. Still, it is a wrap around his head that has loosened a few times.

He fixes his eyes forward when she returns to him, in case she does not find the idea of being side-eyed too fond. She sits down on the edge of the bed next to Crimson, keeping her eyes away from him. “How are you feeling?” Dahlia asks.

Crimson clears his throat, feeling much better now that he is watered and fed. “Gettin’ there,” he speaks mostly through his teeth, avoiding flexing his face too much. “Soup really helped.”

She silently agrees with him, noting much less strain on his voice. “Nothing like a homemade soup to build up the body.”

“Nothin’ like it. Reminds me of how my pa’ used to make his soup. Just missin’ the oversized chunks of cabbage.”

Dahlia chuckles, “Dude, my mom used to do that too. It's like all she did was cut the cabbage head into four pieces then dunked it in there.”

Crimson snickers next, suppressing most of it to avoid feeling too much pain. “I get it’s good for you, but it’s hard to enjoy everythin' else.”

“That’s what I’d tell her.”

“Was she a good cook like you?”

“Pft, I’m not a cook. At least, not nearly as a good a cook as she was. But… yeah, she was a menace in the kitchen. I didn’t get to learn much from her before she died. Still try to learn more when I have the time, but hardly ever do.”

“Be more than happy to test yer creations.”

“Sure. But if you know what’s good for you, you’ll say it’s good even when it sucks.”

“Hold me to it. You know how to make her famous cherry fritters?”

The mare sits up straight and looks towards him, taken aback at the question. “How do you know she made fritters?”

“Somethin’ you said back when we first met. Same when you said you mostly taught yerself to cook.”

Her face slightly turns for judgement. “Dude, it’s really freaky that you remember literally everything I’ve said.” She looks away from him with that same look of disgust.

Crimson purses his lips lightly.

“… At least I know you listen.”

His eyes open a little wider at this sudden comment. It drives him to smile even though it hurts. At this point, he could care less if it does, as long as it does not worry her. “… Course I do. It don’t feel like it?”

“It’s not that it doesn’t feel like it, I know you listen. It’s just… you, like… I dunno… you really listen, y’know? Like you ‘listen’ listen to me.”

Crimson follows exactly what she is saying but finds amusement in her choice of words. “Do other folks not ‘listen’ listen?”

“Ch, not even. Everyone I’ve met is a hack or a fraud. No one ever listens and no one ever tells the truth. And before you point your grubby finger at me and judge me, yeah, I act the same way. Deal with it.”

“Throw back at life what it throws at you.”

Impression takes her expression once more at his words. It turns to a cheeky smirk. “Exactly. Life can kiss my ass.”

“It sure can,” he encourages before a thought pops back into his mind. “Ah, hey, uh... what happened with..." reservation paints his face, though he continues to ask, "... y'know...”

Apparent distaste replaces Dahlia’s front. She too seems less than willing to talk about what happened yesterday evening. “You and Heidi beating each other into pieces?"

"Yeah."

Dahlia's teeth from the 'ch' vowel, but she stops herself. Trying to put her thoughts together, she shakes her head twice. "... Can I just start with... what the fuck?"

"... Yeah."

"How was she so strong!?" she whisper-shouts. "She nearly fucking killed you with her hands!"

"I know."

"You two were beating the shit out of each other like crazy! I can't believe how hard you two hitting each other! I heard rumors of you killing a dragon, but what the fuck! She almost topped you!"

"Dahlia, stay with me here. What happened after the fight? I... I blanked out. Reckon I passed out ‘n… you carried me back here?” The face she makes instils him with doubt. “… Not the case?”

“Do you seriously not remember anything after?” He shakes his head lightly. “… So you don’t remember… killing Rhye?”

He almost sits up from shock. “I killed him?”

“Yeah. You cut his head off with your… angel stuff.”

"... What do you mean?"

"I dunno! Your angel stuff! C'mon, you already know what I'm talking about! Big gold sword, woosh, you cut them with it!"

"Big... sword." Crimson’s dilated eyes fall from her and stare into the void. “… I killed him with my Arch?” With a pained struggle, he reaches his hand towards the collar around his neck.

Dahlia glowers at him. “What did I tell you about moving so much?”

He holds the collar, slipping his middle and pointer finger in between his neck and the enchanted leather. “… I still had this shit around my neck?”

“Yeah.”

Crimson digests this information for a moment, finding everything she’s saying hard to believe. “… I know you ain’t lyin’, but… I killed Rhye with my Arch? I didn't get to look the bastard in the eyes. Couldn't even tell you what he looks like.”

“I lie all the time, Crim, but I can tell you this isn’t one of those times. He teleported us into his office after you killed Heidi. He tried… taking us out. Whole thing was rigged from the start. Your Arch stuff came outta nowhere and you killed him before he or his goons could get the jump on us. You looked like a walking corpse. Putting it lightly, it was… creepy.”

Crimson’s brows furrow the top of his eyes, completely throwing aside her last comment. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Dahlia swallows her words, entering a debate she knows Crimson can see on her face. “… He didn’t. L-Like I said, you killed him before he got to do anything.”

“Dahlia,” he calls very sternly, only emphasized by the gravely tone in his voice. She slowly turns her head to look into his eyes, which glare back at her with a conviction that scares her. “What did he do?”

Dahlia squints and lets her eyes drop to his chin, her nerves bottled like a rocket ready to launch. “It’s n-not a big deal, man, really—”

“Dahlia,” he repeats the same way as before.

Her entire body quivers, finding an aggravating inability to understand why he is able to intimidate her like this. She feels like melting into the ground under his oppressive stare. “… H-He tried raping me, alright?”

“That motherfucker!” Crimson sits up, his eyes quickly sheen with gold while the ethereal whispers begin their mantra in his spirit.

The mare jumps with shock and immediately moves to put her hooves on his chest. “Crimson, keep it down! He’s fucking dead already, you killed him! Lay back down and chill out!”

Crimson does not budge as he lets his fury ride out of him. Uncompromised concern paints her expression, her breath comes out steadily as she tries to gently push him back down. His irises slowly revert to their hazel color and he allows himself to be laid again. After his Arch fades back to a passive state, the pain of sitting up so hastily sets in.

It happened again, he thinks. His Arch channeled again, despite the collar’s magic. But this time, it felt... light. Natural. No hint of pain aside from the soreness of his beat-up abdomen. He feels he is beginning to understand something that he knew and threw away a long time ago.

“… He’s dead,” Crimson recants her words to himself, helping him ease his nerves. “And you broke the news to our Horseshoe friends?”

Dahlia nods meekly a few times. “That’s… the next thing we should talk about. The Brains aren’t too thrilled that you killed a Doyen’s grandson, but they aren’t after us or anything.”

“You make it sound like somethin’s wrong.”

“Because there is. The Brains aren’t gonna be after us, but the rest of the Family is once they figure out it was you who killed Rhye. The Brains won’t protect us when they do.”

“Hm. I’ve killed fuckers like ‘em with my bare hands. Let ‘m come.”

“Crimson, stop. This isn’t a game. You’re hurt and we still have a lot of work to do. How are we gonna get you home when we have the Horseshoes after you?”

“IF they find out who I am,” Crimson starts with a deepening furrow of his brows, “then I don’t want you with me. If I understand what you said correctly, it’s me they’re after. Not you. So if they start huntin’ me down, we’ll have to part ways.”

Her eyes dilate to pin pricks. “What!?”

“It’s for yer own good, girly. I won’t have you get caught in the cross of me and a gang. It never ends well.”

“What happened to us being partners, huh!? I’m not going anywhere!”

Crimson’s stern front lets up a bit. “Of course we’re partners. But that don’t mean I’m gonna let you get killed by grimy fucks that want ME dead.”

“That totally voids us even being partners in the first place if you can throw me out just because things get tough!”

Unable to fight a smile, Crimson feels a warmth inside of him at her conviction. “Well, girly, in this case… bein’ my friend overrules bein’ my partner. And I don’t want a friend of mine gettin’ hurt through my means.”

Dahlia’s cheeks lightly tint pink. “Y-Yeah? Then screw that, we’ll fight the Horseshoes as friends instead of partners! How about that?” A chuckle forms and ushers itself out of Crimson’s mouth. “This isn’t funny! I’m being super serious!” The man proceeds to chuckle harder. “Crimson, stop laughing!”

He tries to waive her rising aggravation off with his hand. “I-I ain’t laughin’—ehe—cuz I think this is funny.” He wipes his left eye from a building tear of joy. “Jesus. I’m laughin’ ‘cuz I’m so taken back. Who’re you ‘n what’d you do to my Deedee?”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean!?”

“Just that, I remember yer initial hesitation to partner up with me. Help me get outta Equestria. Ain’t no secret we didn’t get along very well. Now it’s like you don’t wanna leave my side. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wouldn’t want me to leave at all. I’ll be the first to say I enjoy the change of pace.”

Dahlia’s cheeks have continued to redden the more he speaks until his final sentence is spoken. Her chest puffs up and her ears lay flat on her head, looking away from him with a pout. “Hrh,” she grumbles, “you really know how to say the dumbest shit to embarrass me, you know that?”

“Maybe so. I do it outta love.”

Her already pink cheeks become cherry red at the word.

“Were you holdin’ my arm the whole night?”

“NO!”

Crimson turns his face away from her sudden belting. “Woh, Deedee, quiet down. I’m just askin’.”

“Why!? Who cares!?”

“I care. It felt nice havin’ you at my side like that. Think I slept better cause of it.”

Her lack of composure only worsens, but rather than aggression, it melts into something else. Something she is having trouble understanding. “… You did?”

“Wouldn’t lie to you. Wouldn’t be opposed if you did it more often neither.”

Dahlia takes turns clenching the left side of her jaw and right, again and again in a muse that burns her chest.

Crimson watches her struggle for a few seconds before speaking up again. “… That includes right now, if you wanted to.”

She lifts her magenta orbs to his. As they lock gazes, more words than could ever be spoken come flowing out of her soul. The cruel inability to bring down the walls which have spent years being built. The first and last line of defense that has kept her alive and sane. A biology that has functioned like a fluid machine is now pulling itself apart.

Crimson extends his right arm out to her, offering it directly. Her eyes blink down to it.

…

Be it impulse or a direct order from her mind, she trepidly comes closer and hugs it. She lays down, putting her forehead on his shoulder.

The unrelenting rain outside keeps their silent unison company. Nothing is said for a time neither of them could be bothered to count.

…

“Seriously…” Dahlia suddenly murmurs quietly, barely audible over the rain, “… what the hell did you do to me?”

“A question fer you and you alone.”

Dahlia exhales deeply to decompress, genuinely taking what he said to heart. A question for her and her alone to deal with…

“… You regret stickin’ with me?”

Surprised at the question, she looks up to glance at the side of his face. He does not look back to her and says nothing further, letting the question linger. She sets her head back down with void-gazing eyes. “… I… I guess… not really.”

“That’s good, right?”

“… I don’t know.”

The man lets her response float around them, taking in a deep breath. “… I’d hope it is.”

Dahlia shuffles slightly, bearing a heavier emotional burden than she wants to. “… Just… don’t worry about it. Are you feeling any better?”

“Loads. I appreciate you takin’ care of me.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He smirks at her snide response. He takes his opportunity to test his body out, flexing random muscles all across his body except the arm which Dahlia holds. “Think I’m ripe. How long was I out?"

"Just a day. You're bouncing back from the pit pretty quick."

"But that's a day lost. Likely the Doyens already caught word of Rhye’s death, so we’re on borrowed time. Thinkin’ I’m good enough to get a move on. You wanna pay them Brains a visit together?”

“Yeah, they're waiting for you to show up before they demonstrate a ‘surprise spell’ they're working on. I didn't mention what our next task is gonna be, but... you'll find out soon. I hope you're ready for what we're getting into."

"Are you?"

"Don’t reverse the question on me.”

"Well even if I wasn't, ain't got a choice. Are you sure you wanna risk yerself stickin’ at my side? I can’t stress enough that I’d rather you be safe."

“Then stop stressing, because I’m not going anywhere.” She lets go of his arm and sits up. “Come on.”

She comes off the bed first, with Crimson right behind her, albeit somewhat unsteady. She offers to stabilize him, but he declines with a raised palm. He proceeds to get dressed before they take their leave from the saloon.

‎

‎

Crimson holds back the urge to spit onto the ground, the pressure from being teleported pushing in on his weakened and bruised stomach. He stabilizes himself quickly enough to make it look like he just stumbled a bit, lifting his head and eyes to look around at Cosma’s office.

Having teleported first, Dahlia is already here, just barely having oriented herself as well. Her prior assumption was correct, it does not look like the Brains were anticipating their arrival so soon, as Cosma is the only one present in the lab and was intently focusing on her paperwork. Said Brain jumps in a startle, fixes her glasses, then blinks rapidly at her and Crimson.

Cosma gasps in awe. "Wooaah! If it isn't the power couple!" She analyzes Crimson, taking in his form with running eyes. "He looks especially fantastic! How could he be so unscathed after such a brutal undertaking?"

"He's better than you think," Dahlia states simply.

"Obviously so, if he came out looking exactly like he did going in! Let me get Kaleidoscope in here!" She presses a button to the left side of her desk, reaching in and speaking into it. "Kleid?"

"Yes?" his voice announces from the button, somewhat wobbly from the resonating magic.

"You won't guess who's here!"

Silence comes from his end. The faint magic that was shimmering from Cosma's button suddenly fades. The three sit in a strange silence for about six seconds...

... before Cosma's office door opens upwards and in comes a panting Kleid. He hyperventilates with wide dilated eyes, darting his gaze around quickly. "... Hah, wow!" He guffaws heartily. "Up so soon, are we?" He asks to Crimson, where he obviously gets no response before looking to Dahlia. "He looks great! This is perfect! Now our operation may continue!"

"First thing’s first," Dahlia states seriously, getting straight to business, “what’s the situation with Rhye? Is the water hot?”

A serious squint takes Kleid’s front, one that comes with a small smile. “Not… quite yet. Luckily you were able to advise us early enough of his death that we’ve made… ‘special’ accommodations to ensure the fire does not spread so quickly. No pony, not even the boisterous announcer who commentates the fights, knows. Well, one pony knows.”

Dahlia’s throat catches. “W-Who?”

“A pony who is now rich and now lives in her own private domicile far away from the Horseshoes. I understand your human may be selective in who he kills, a beautiful mare possibly being outside of his target range. But we advocate for the elimination of all witnesses. Is this understood?”

“… Yeah,” Dahlia acknowledges, briefly glancing back at Crimson. The man hides the lining of his brows. They both realize that there was indeed one witness – the showmare, who was trembling like jelly and near fainting. "So what was that 'surprise' you had in store for us? Is it even ready?"

"Hohohooo~ Yes, indeed~" Kleid nods repeatedly with sheer glee. "It's been ready since before your last return, but we kept this raveled until your other half returned!"

"Right, well, we're here and the Black Horseshoes won't be looking for him any slower. What say you show us what you've cooked up."

"With pleasure~" He grins wildly, giving an unsettling air to the ambiance around him. Even Cosma looks very... enthusiastic. The stallion trots up to the both of them, his cheeky simper unfailing. "The spell we've created is a blended alteration of the standard clairvoyance spell and the project cognizance spell. This single unified spell will-- eheh~ -- use a... volunteer of ours, to give you the exact locations of the two last relics we need. It will be unmistakable, undeniable, it will be the most precise data available to you. The only thing you need on your end..."

"... Is to not get caught," Dahlia finishes for him.

"Indeed. It would be most tragic if the Royal Guard caught you sneaking into the Castle~" Crimson's eyes bulge behind his hair. "So this spell will give you the edge you need to ensure that does not happen, the only thing we require from you is your cunning and stealth. Judging from your assignment against Keeper, I'm confident in your cooperative abilities. It will be just as before - Wisp, you will ensure the wards around the Castle do not detect your human as he prowls. Unfortunately this time, you will not have access to the earpieces as the communicative distance is limited and you will be a fair distance apart during the endeavor."

Dahlia acknowledges the recap in stride while Crimson is frozen in contemplation. "You gonna show me how to jam the wards with the throwing thing?"

"Indeed, indeed. Cosma?" he looks towards his lab mate. Even though she was paying attention, she stills perks up at her name being called. "Please bring the throw-projector."

"On the double!~" she merrily calls before hopping from her desk and exiting her lab.

Kleid refocuses on the duo, his sinister smile retakes his lips. "While our lovely Cosma retrieves the required device, allow me to cast the spell upon you both. It's effects will only last roughly six second, but to you, it will seem like much longer."

Dahlia nods firmly. "Do it."

"Brace yourselves~" he advises while his horn charges its light cyan color. His smile becomes even more wicked. The tip of his horn begins to spark and fizzle, as if the magic was spewing out of a tiny crack. He bows his head and presents his horn, shooting the magic into Dahlia's forehead first. Her jaw drops and her eyes begin to glow pure white as they look blankly forward.

Witnessing this drives concern into Crimson. The stallion aims to him next, he has half a mind to stop him, but the magic hits his forehead before he has any time to back out of this situation...

‎

---

Like peering through a spyglass, the world contorts at the edges, unclear and difficult to gage except for the center of focus. Everything takes a blue hue, the colors are saturated, and it feels like a hazy dream.

Crimson begins to experience the perspective of another being, a pony possibly, one that resides inside the Canterlot Castle. All of the senses are present, touch, taste, smell, hearing, and sight, making this experience easily overwhelming.

The eyes he watches through act casually to its surroundings, if maybe a little inquisitive. The vision starts at the Royal Gardens behind the Castle before traversing in. The halls of the Castle are navigated, the libraries, the lobbies, the towers, the training yard, and more. Much of it is familiar to Crimson, but only now notices the small magical orbs that tack the corners of the tall ceilings and walls - the wards which see the unseen and alert of trespassers. If the sheer amount of guards patrolling around were not enough, the wards overcompensate.

It becomes clear to Crimson why Dahlia had been caught. Even the most seasoned temple raider would pale against the security imposed on the Castle.

This guiding camera-pony appears to be heading to the Royal Research Labs, telling from the major archways that lead up to it. At taking the last turn into the lab, the first thing beheld is the massive gyroscope which continues to spin endlessly, just as he saw long before.

The eyes walk into this lab and casually glance around – whoever this pony is, they are obviously very comfortable with their surroundings and know where things are. As they continue further in, they approach the farthest right archway that leads into the general office, located right next to the gyroscope.

Stepping into the office, the eyes scan the room slowly. Crimson is able to take in every detail.

There it is. A violet rhombus gem attached to a thick black string, the Amulet of Mariki, hung inside a metal box secured to the far wall, one shut with a combination lock.

The eyes approach this lock, looking down closely to it. Magic is channeled, a teal-ish silver, and the lock is held closer. Four dials which turn up and down are clicked several times, each symbol possibly being a number. Crimson does not understand the symbols, but keeps a mental record of the actual shape and design of them.

The lock clicks when the correct combination is found. The man takes a snapshot with is mind – keeping the pattern memorized: fish thing, fish thing, flower pedal, and arrow pointing up.

This pony uses their magic to scramble the combination and click the lock back into place. They take their leave from the lab, without anypony else the wiser.

The guiding eyes return to the great halls of the Castle. Coordinated turns and paces are had. Guards acknowledge this pony’s presence and appear to not question them.

Soon enough, the turns begin to roam through too-familiar sections of the grand halls now. He does not want to think too hard on it, but the path becomes undeniable. All the correct turns are taken, the ones which eventually lead up to two heavy cobalt doors that are seated at the base of the Eastern Tower…

… Moonlight’s room.

This brings prodding consternation into the man. He begins to question who the guinea pig he is watching the world through actually is. This pony bypasses the two guards posted before the heavy doors, knocks on them, and patiently waits for a response. They eventually open when a small easy-blue unicorn mare answers the door, her large pink irises staring right up into Crimson’s eyes…

… he means the pony’s eyes. Whoever this may be.

“Oh, um,” she begins, “good morning again, Magnifying.”

He did not want to admit it. The undeniable fact now causes Crimson’s heart to crack.

“Good morning, Moonlight!” his voice is loud and echoing through the spell’s vision. “Raspberry whipped crepes, at your service!” He presents something that was outside of peripheral, two styrofoam boxes.

Moonlight gives an excited smile. “Ooh, thank you, thank you, Magnifying! Please, come in!”

The stallion enters, feeling the absolute joy radiating from Magnifying. Only now does Crimson truly comprehend what goes on inside this stallion’s inner workings, and it is amounting to be more than a little concerning. He begins to understand this may not just be a mask he wears for the Horseshoes, but a genuine and unadulterated infatuation with the Head Researcher.

The stallion slyly glances to the left once he enters, giving but a second of focus to the entire purpose of their mission. A relic sits at the very far left lab table against the wall, presented atop a lavender pillow which rests on a marble block.

There it is – the final culmination of his work, the Belt of Uru. He did not think he would have to get back in the saddle for these two pieces of history ever again.

As Magnifying looks back to Moonlight with what Crimson feels is a wide smile.

“I like your new glasses, Magnifying,” Moonlight suddenly comments. “Are they prescription?”

“These?” His hoof blocks the right ocular of the magical vision. “Oh no, I was outside for a while and wanted something to block out the sun!”

The ‘glasses’ are pulled off his head, and with their removal, the vision distorts and crumbles, then fades away. From one moment to the next, the man gains responsibility over his conscious again.

---

‎

Crimson and Dahlia both blink rapidly to reacclimatize to their worlds. They glare dilated orbs to Kleid, who stares back at them with bursting joy.

“So? So?” he asks excitedly on his and Cosma’s behalf.

“We saw what we needed to see,” Dahlia affirms casually. Cosma levitates the throw-projector to her, she reaches out to take it with her hoof.

“Good, good, good! Excellent! That vision was from yesterday, so you’re completely up to date! The spell was a grand success, hohoha!”

“I’ll say!” Cosma adds.

“Now, before we continue in any way, we need to appropriately fit your human so that he may sneak around the Castle effectively. I understand that style is important,” he states, looking down at Crimson’s boots, “but utility overrules aesthetic. Cosma?”

Already aware of her cue, Cosma hops off her desk and moves to the metal storage cabinets to the left of the transponder. She reaches into the largest cabinet door and pulls out a folded bundle of clothing. She levitates it in her magic over to Crimson, who takes it with both hands.

“Have your human dress in this attire, the soft yet durable material of that jumpsuit will not only muffle his steps, but slim his frame. No extra bits and bobs to work against him. The location Cosma is programming the transponder to send you two is directly into the heart of Canterlot Castle. You may be familiar with the two waterfalls on the mountain, one on the southern face just outside the kingdom, and one on the western face, the waterfall that flows into a river through the Royal Gardens. The mountain has been carved into to fit another of our cubicles behind the western waterfall. In essence, you will be right inside Castle grounds from the start, and you will infiltrate through the Gardens."

"Damn, you guys even have one there? Since when?"

"Since before any of our times, that's for sure," Kleid winks. "Remember, all of these were built many many years ago. But now they serve to aid us! The Gardens are the optimal point of entry since your window of opportunity is so small. Remember, you only have half an hour to run in and come out before your success is severely hampered. I don’t need to state the obvious, but do not get caught trying to enter the hideaway. It would be disastrous if you were.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dahlia declares her understanding. “So we start at exactly eleven-thirty?”

“Precisely. Your half-hour window comes at eleven thirty P.M every night, when the nightguard in the Gardens briefly leaves post for their lunch break, with nopony else to replace them during that time. If your human is able to penetrate the Castle, acquire the relics, and exit during this intermission, it is your best chance at a clean escape. The inner Castle guard placement is exactly the same as the daytime, and should be treated accordingly. Remember, there are no casualties allowed in this mission. If your human is caught, he must flee.”

“Right.”

“I heavily recommend taking one relic at a time to broaden your timeframe for escape. Because of my aforementioned accommodations stifling the flow of information, Rhye’s death will travel like molasses. There is no time limit for this, so don’t feel like you need to rush. The sooner the better, but worse the blunder. Take a few days to really scour the scene if need be. If you are able to obtain one relic, return and ensure its safety before venturing for the other.”

“No rush, huh? That’s helpful, thanks.”

“Of course! Your success is our success. I would also like to remind you that you are free to wander the exterior of Canterlot Castle during visiting hours. As long as you are cautious when leaving the hidden enclosure, you can stretch your legs and gather information. Visiting hours are from seven in the morning to eleven in the evening. Any time outside this period will cause you to be stopped and arrested.”

Dahlia glances away in distaste, remembering a certain sour event.

“Any other questions or concerns before your undertaking? I will repeat this as many times as I have to, our resources are yours to use.”

Dahlia bites her lower lip in thought, briefly turning to Crimson. His expression is completely unreadable. Without much else to think of, she looks back to Kleid. “I think we’re ready.”

“Good. The cubical you will be teleported into has sleeping and nutrition accommodations so that you may rest there and begin as soon as the clock strikes time. I cannot stress this enough – do not get caught. If somehow word spreads that you are connected to me or my associates, we will have to cut you off completely. The allies you have here will become your enemies. Remember this.”

Without prompting, Cosma presses a button and flips a few dials on the transponder before pulling the heavy lever down. The machine bellows to life behind the duo, who turn around and allow its magic to illuminate their faces.

Both Dahlia and Crimson attempt to mentally prepare themselves for what is to come… then step through one after the other.

‎

‎

The two step out onto the other side of the transponder, surefooted and mostly used to the sensation now.

A look around this concrete square shows that it is no different from the others with the same single amber bulb lighting the place, but does indeed come in a bunk bed exactly like the one in Kleid’s sleeping quarters, an electrically powered fridge, a wall clock, and a latrine. Absolutely zero privacy if one were to use it, but at least it is there.

“Homey,” Dahlia comments.

“Very,” the man sarcastically agrees. He steps towards the bunk and sets down his provided clothing, immediately beginning to undress himself.

“… So, that was her, huh.”

He does not look over to her, but continues taking off his clothes. “Yeah.”

"I'll be honest, she wasn't much to look at."

"You're focused on her, I'm more bought in by the fact that Magnifyin' lied to her face. That rat bastard was a Horseshoe all along."

"Who cares about some Horseshoe squeal? Moonlight is the big cheese and she looks nothing like a researcher. She looks like a kindergarten teacher.”

Crimson pouts his lips in muse, getting his shirt over his head and his belt undone. “Funny you say that. That’s what she wanted to be.”

“Huh, no kidding?”

He nods once.

“Why’d she become an egghead if she wanted to be a teacher?”

“… Dunno.”

The conversation dries up quickly. Dahlia can feel the tension radiating from the man who fearlessly gets into his underwear. He folds his clothes and sets them at the foot end of the bunk bed before getting the cotton jumpsuit on.

Crimson realizes that the suit did not come with shoes, but once he extends it out and analyzes it, he sees why. It comes with its own feetsies like pajamas. If it was not pure black and had a neat stitching pattern, he would be embarrassed getting something like this on. Nevertheless, he steps into it and gets it around his body. It is a bit small but it stretches to conform to him.

Dahlia tilts her head at him once he gets it on, judging its appearance. “… Looks cute on you.”

“Thanks.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “I was being sarcastic. Why don’t you get all weirded out by compliments like that?”

“Was I supposed to be?”

“Uh, yeah. That was the point. You can’t tell me you’re fine with me calling you cute.”

“And if I said I am?”

“I’d throw up.”

“Toilet’s right there.”

Dahlia groans her frustration at being unable to win the litmus competition. She walks over to the lower bunk with Crimson and sets the throw-projector on the ground before sitting down on the edge of the bed, keeping her pouting face forward at the wall. The man sits down next to her and lays back, crossing his fingers behind his head as he gazes at the bottom of the second bunk.

“We have like ten hours before our first run-in,” Dahlia states. “Did you wanna wait, gather more info tomorrow?”

“Nah, get this over with. Already know the layout.”

Dahlia understands what he says but fails to find confidence in his words. “… You nervous?”

“Like fuckin’ crazy.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Nervous looks different on everyone. I've got half an hour to break into Moonlight’s home. With her there no less. Nervous is an understatement.”

“The time crunch is rough, but prioritize your safety before anything else. Even if the thirty minutes are up, as long as you don’t get caught, you don’t have anything to worry about. You've been there, you should already know there's other ways to get out of the Castle grounds if you can't use the Gardens.”

“Yeah. Yer right. Get the relics, then get the hell outta there.”

“That's the spirit, Crim. And when we get the relics to Kleid, he’ll give us the other half of the documents we need for your little human project.”

Crimson feels a rising satisfaction building inside him. He can finally put his curiosities to rest. He is so close. It becomes increasingly tangible. “To what Kleid said. Thinkin’ we should get the relics one at a time.”

“Oh yeah, no doubt about that. Don’t need the added risk. Glad he was able to do something about Rhye. Not being on a crunch is a whole weight off my back. Which relic did you wanna take first?” she asks, looking to Crimson. She immediately notes tension building across his forehead and cheeks. “… I’d say the one in the lab.”

“Eh-- Yeah,” Crimson concedes. “That’s a plan to me.”

Dahlia tilts her head at him, delivering a raised left brow. “The whole Moonlight thing is really stressing you out, huh?"

"Just doesn’t feel right. I worked with her, now I’m workin’ against her. Now I know what it’s like to be in the boots of a snake.”

“That’s what’s got you tense? Hah. Nah, man. Think of it like this, you’re not backstabbing them if the stuff you helped them to get wasn’t theirs to begin with. Those relics? Taken from dead folk. Just like you said, right?”

“… Hm. Suppose.”

“Don’t let it freak you out. Hey, how about this. We’ll get that first relic from the lab, then take a day off to let your nerves settle. Should be up and rolling after that, right?”

“… Don’t sound like a bad idea.”

“Cool. Just leave it to me!”

Crimson nods to her when she looks over for confirmation, and they both exchange a smile. The man sighs tensely and looks forward again, Dahlia does the same in growing contemplation.

Some silence invades the air before Dahlia speaks up again. “… Can I ask you something?”

“Mm?”

“Are you trying to figure out what happened to the humans here so you can get home?”

“They ain’t related.”

“It’s hard to believe that.”

“Nothin’ more to it.”

“Then I don’t get why you’re so into the humans here. What business do you have with them if not for getting home?”

“What’s with the third-degree?”

“What? I can’t ask questions now?”

“Not sayin’ you can’t.”

“Then why are you getting defensive?”

Crimson sighs, forcing himself to remember that her social skills may be causing the confusion. He vaults over the aggression in her tone and continues. “Because I know for a fact they aren’t related. I know how I got to Equestria, and I’ll figure out a way to get back on my own.”

“Wait, what do you mean you know how? Since when?”

“Since a while ago.”

“Well what the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked.”

“So now you’re saying you don’t even need my help?”

“I never said that. I still need yer help for the humans here.”

She delivers a fierce glare. “What, so after this you’re just gonna ditch me and figure out how to get yourself home?”

“Why do you keep sayin’ I’m gonna ditch you? Second time today you’ve said this.”

“Because that’s exactly what you’re doing! You’re using me to get what you want before you leave Equestria forever!”

“Didn’t we both come to an understandin' that’s precisely what’s going on? The annoyin’ human you hate so much goes home, and you get to keep the money from selling his clothes?”

Dahlia is ready to bite back at him, but finds herself stumped at his words. Even though she does not want to admit it, he is right. She knew since the beginning that the end goal was for him to go home, but it does not stop her from… whatever it is she is feeling. She cannot understand it and it is making her even more upset.

“… You don’t want me to leave, do you?”

Dahlia’s jaw clenches and the weight of the question makes her ears drop to her head. She averts her gaze, squinting to the ground. “… Of course I want you to leave. You don’t belong here. Your sister misses you and whatever.”

Crimson is impressed that she remembers he told her that, given the fact that she seems to forget everything she says to him. Maybe it does make sense, now that he puts his mind to it. “Dahlia, I ain’t tryin’a play gotcha when sayin’ this, but you can’t be upset at me fer leavin’ and want me to leave at the same time.”

“Who said I was upset that you’re leaving? I couldn’t be happier.”

Crimson smiles slightly at the side of her face, finding her obvious front very endearing. “… Well just know that I ain’t big on abandonin’ you either. If I was able to come to your world, I’m sure there’s a way you can come to mine. Or maybe I can come back, visit from time to time.” Her ears immediately perk up, her act shatters into dust. The man’s smile widens a little further. “If I can figure out a way, I’ll let you know.”

Dahlia looks over to him, her orbs shimmering under the dull light of the single amber bulb that illuminates the room. “… You think it’s possible?”

“I’m sayin’ it’s likely, but don’t hold me to it. There’s somethin’—someone, I need to find again so I can figure all this out. Let’s just try to focus on what’s ahead of us first."

Dahlia looks away again, silently internalizing his words. With a gentle sigh, she lays down next to Crimson and joins him with staring up at the second bunk.

“… Think I can ask you somethin’ next?” he asks without looking to her.

“… Sure, I guess.”

“It’s actually somethin’ that I asked you when we first met, and I’ve been hopin’ fer an answer ever since.”

Dahlia’s face sours, dreading what is to come.

“You don’t gotta answer if you don’t wanna, same as before. No pressure.”

“Just ask it.”

Crimson simpers wryly, feeling honored that she finally has some sort of confidence in him. “What was growin’ up like fer you?”

The taste of metal invades Dahlia’s mouth. “… One huge ass train of back to back problems.”

“If it ain’t any trouble… what was the first one you remember?”

“If that’s what we’re going off of…” Despondency grows in the deep reaches of her pupils. “… Then before I was born. The first problem happened even before I existed.”

Crimson turns his head to look at the mare who still keeps her eyes to the upper bunk. He gives her the air to speak by remaining silent and watching her.

“… It started with my mom,” she continues. “She was… amazing. A loving, hardworking mare. I basically got all my looks from her. She’d like to stay home as much as possible, working from there by knitting, making clothes and stuff. She ran her own shop, kinda. She was always single. She never got into a relationship with anypony, I never found out why. See, back before Dodge was even Dodge, there were staggered settlements all around Equestria, and where the Junction is now, it was also one of those settlements. They were called the Communities.”

A spark triggers in Crimson’s mind. “Moobs told me ‘bout ‘em. Axel came from them too.”

“Did gramps mention me and Axel knew each other there?”

“He didn’t. Hmh. To think you two went back that far.”

"It's crazy alright. He wasn’t even in my community, he was in a neighboring one. He liked to trade with my mom. He had a chicken farm and gave eggs to her while she made custom knits for his daughter. Every community traded with one-another and got along pretty well, foals from other communities would all hang out.”

“Did you ever play with Axel’s daughter?”

“Oh, no, I was way too old when she was born. Even if we were the same age, you’ll figure out why we wouldn’t have. But, anyways, back to the Communities. Some were bigger than others, the one where Dodge is now was one of the bigger ones. That’s where my mom lived, and I think it’s safe to say everypony loved her. Like I said, she was an amazing pony. She was always helpful and nice to strangers, helped new settlers, liked to open a soup kitchen with her best friend for the less fortunate. They called her a beacon of hope in the grim, untamed land of early Equestria. Even though she didn’t have any children of her own, everypony considered her the town mom. She made everyone feel welcomed.”

“She sounds like a sweet woman.”

“She was. Then one day some piece of disgusting trash took advantage of her kindness. A pegasus stallion traveler, constantly roaming around the land. He arrived at the Communities one day. My mom told me he looked tired, exhausted, and nearly about to pass out. She invited him in and gave him dinner, and was looking to give him a few bits after so he could stay at the local saloon for the night. They had supper, everything was normal… then the piece of shit jumped on my mom and raped her. I don't know if she even tried to stop him, or if she was too scared to, but it happened. She stayed silent about it for days. The friendly, joyful mare everypony enjoyed being around was gloomy and depressed, and nopony knew why. It took my mom’s best friend days of constant insisting so she could spill what happened.”

Crimson’s brows furrow, already feeling himself becoming heated.

“My mom’s community caught wind very quickly about what happened. Luckily, the shithead that did my mom in wasn’t very bright. He stayed in the saloon with the bits he got from my mom, just to see what else he could get away with before hitting the roads again. The town militia caught him and tied him up to the center post. He was stoned to death in the middle of town. ... I was told that my mom didn't even throw the rock she was given. She just held it, and watched. A while went by and, lo and behold, my mom found out she was pregnant. She stayed completely silent about that too. Time went on, and she couldn’t hide her belly. The excuse that she was just gaining weight didn’t fit the bill after a while.”

Crimson actively contains his grim frown to keep a stern front up.

“Ponies were telling her to get rid of it, to get rid of the baby and relieve herself of the burden. For whatever reason, she didn’t want to. The incident haunted my mom, but she still decided to keep me. So, I was born. She raised me, and she was the best mom anypony could ever ask for. I would come home from school sad and depressed because no one wanted to be friends with the rape-victim’s child. All that compassion and love everypony once had for my mom was dead when she allowed me to live.”

Crimson furrows his brows, now understanding what Dahlia meant.

“But my mom was always there for me, she was my best friend. I spent most of my childhood with her, but… she was taken from me.”

Her eyes lazily swash left and right, almost as if seeing a picture of her life painted at the bottom of the bunk. Crimson nods in acknowledgement and stays silent, seeing that she is getting everything off her chest.

“When I was thirteen, the Communities were raided by the Wild Manes, I’m sure Moobs told you about them.”

“I’ve had the displeasure of meeting 'em.”

“Then you know what they’re like. A gang that thrives off raiding, raping, and burning anything they want. The stallion that raped my mom and was publicly executed probably had some sort of ties to them. The fight was tiresome and bloody. The Communities’ militia barely drove them off. … My mom was killed in the raid. She held me in her arms when some Wild Mane busted through our door. He told my mom to give me over to him so I could be sold into slavery. She refused, so he stabbed her a bunch of times in the back while she tried protecting me. The militia showed up, they killed him before he got to me, but by then my mom was already dead. I still remember her eyes… her beautiful red eyes… slowly drying up as she died.”

Crimson turns on his side to give the emotionless mare his fully apparent attention. She silently appreciates the gesture, but she already knows he’s listening.

“After that raid, the Communities were shambled pretty bad. A lot of survivors migrated out, trying to find other family or start again. The remaining ponies got together to salvage the rest of the scraps they had. They decided to all join together as one large community in case something like this ever happened again. Strength in numbers and all that. Dodge was founded. Some of those ponies found purpose again, but I was lost. After my mom died, I was so lost. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to defend myself, how to work, and I didn’t know anypony since everyone avoided me. I moved into the orphanage and kept going to school. … That's where I finally made one friend.”

Crimson lets his anger relent for a weak smile.

“She was sweet. She was an orphan from the raid like me. Her mother had passed away from illness and her father died in the raid. I still remember her face after all of these years. I had no social skills, and I never was the smartest in class. I spent all of my free time just practicing my flying, and she would just watch me since she was an earth pony. We were both outcasts, but that made our friendship stronger. We spent every minute we had together. We shared our food, our clothes, and the headmistress even got angry at us because we kept sharing one bed. ... I was becoming so attached to her, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. My life circulated around her. … She told me she was my best friend, that we would be best friends forever. I put my hopes in her. Together, we’d get our lives back on track. We'd grow up, move to Las Pegasus, and get an apartment together. Those happy feelings lasted longer than they should have. ... One day, I couldn’t find her. I looked everywhere for her. I ended up asking the headmistress of the orphanage if she knew where she went. … She got adopted.”

The slight smile Crimson had falls into the void.

“She didn’t even say goodbye. She disappeared from my life and never came back, without wind or tale of what happened to her. It crushed me into the ground. I don’t know where she is or what became of her. Heck, I don’t even remember her name, but I still remember her face.”

“… I’m sorry, Dahlia.”

“Don’t stress it, dude. None of this is your fault... yet. Anyways, it only gets better from here.”

“Ah, well that’s a good change of pace.”

“I’m kidding. It gets worse. Much worse.”

Crimson squints.

“Once I was fifteen, some rich stallion named Pockets came down from Manehattan, visiting Dodge to see if there were any potential thriving business partners to be made. He found me at the orphanage that I had been in for the past two years. I guess he liked the look of me. He offered me a job as a maidmare for their household, I took it faster than you could blink. The same day, I was taken on their air balloon to Pocket’s home in Manehattan. I had hope, I heard stories that maidmares have it so easy. I got there, started working the next day… it was everything I could of hoped for.”

Crimson furrows his brow, reluctant to take hope in from her words.

“Free food, free shelter, a comfy bed to sleep on, a beautiful house three floors tall, a big yard and plenty of free time. Me and three other mares tended to the place with smiles, they pretty much taught me how to clean and do everything. Pocket and his wife were also such nice ponies. They were really kind and helpful. … Except the son. Name was Zest. He was a piece of shit. He was everything I hated embodied into one pony. He was ignorant, cocky, irresponsible, and worst of all, thickheaded. More thickheaded than you.”

“There goes my number one spot.”

“Yeah, it’s insane. His parents were such nice ponies! But that was their downfall. Zest was such a fucking shithead and they didn’t discipline him at all. They would let him throw his temper tantrums and walk over them. Then he started hitting on me. I kindly told him I wasn’t interested, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. Like, the other maidmares working with me were cute too. I don’t know what that lunatic saw in me.”

“You were the cutest.”

“Shh! Just listen. Then this guy started saying the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. He was gonna ‘conquer me like he had every mare before me.’”

Crimson shakes his head, “What a prick.”

“Yeah, it gets better. After repeatedly telling him to kindly piss off, he went to his parents about it! Then they pulled me aside and talked to me about him. They pleaded for me to accept him as my coltfriend. How fucking pathetic is that? They also told me that they would raise my pay and be strict about how he treats me. They’d ‘take care of me and keep me safe’ from anything he might try.” Dahlia sighs her returning frustration. “The fact they needed to say that they'd keep me safe really concerned me, but… they were such nice ponies, I didn’t want to disappoint them. So I caved in and told them I’d superficially date their snobby son. Just for them. … I put my hopes in them that they’d honor their word and keep their shitty kid under control. It was the worst decision I have made in my entire life. He was always so pushy and arrogant. He constantly tried to make moves on me. He even got a custom maid outfit tailored for me that exposed me in such an embarrassing way. And I had to wear it!”

“What the hell? Did you tell his parents?”

“Yeah! His parents literally told me to wear it! It made that clown’s lust even worse. He kept trying and trying to push himself on me, but I didn’t let him get his way. This crap went on for like a year.”

“Figure the tides became too unstable?”

“Oh, you have no idea. One night Zest reaaally went off the deep end. On my sixteenth birthday, he threw a little dinner date for me after his parents had ALREADY threw me a birthday party. His parents were asleep for the night and it was late, but I figured ‘what the hell’ since they were planning on giving me vacation for a week, and Zest was getting ready to move out of his parents house finally. At twenty-seven years.”

“Christ on a carriage, a twenty-seven year old dating a sixteen year old?”

“Yup.”

“AND made you wear skimpy clothing?”

“Yup.”

“The fuck.”

“It haunts me when I think back on this stuff too much. That’s why I try not to. But now I am, and it’s haunting me again.”

“You don’t have to talk about it anymore, Dahlia, I appreciate everything you’ve shared with me.”

“Nope, I’m in too deep. I need to keep telling you or I’ll actually go insane.”

Crimson purses his lips and nods twice.

“The date was in his room. His room was really big and fancy and had a super tall ceiling, blah blah blah. He was stupid spoiled. He had a round table set up with candles and moody music playing. I had a super expensive goun that he forced me to wear. He wore a really nice suit. If I’m being honest, he wasn’t a bad looking stallion. He was repulsive in every other way though. We went through this little date of his and it was alright. The food he had another maid cook for us was nice. The ambiance was well done too. I still give him props to this day… but then, the freak did the unthinkable. He proposed to me.”

“… Oo,” Crimson cringes with a wince.

“Yeah. He proposed to me. He went through a lot of effort to keep it all hidden from me and set all of this up, considering I was the one assigned to clean the bastard’s room every day. … I wasn’t about to spend the rest of my life with a mentally unstable freak, so I told him no. … ‘No’, the one word he hated to hear the most. That night, it hurt him more than it ever had before. That word broke his brain. He got up from the table. His face was so veiny, I thought a blood vessel was gonna pop. Then he started to hit me. He started pushing me around and hitting me while yelling at me and calling me names. He pinned me down, then he tried to rape me.”

“Man, fuck.” Crimson’s cups his hands into fists as his eyes begin to glow, just as they had before.

“Easy there, big guy,” she turns herself onto her side to face him. She reaches out and pats his shoulder. “Remember, this all happened already. I tend to get in bad situations, it happens. I’m honestly impressed I haven’t actually got raped yet. Might be destined to happen, all things considered."

“Don’t fuckin’ say that, now! C’mon!”

“Juuust joooking, Crim, eaaasy,” She simpers warmly and strokes his shoulder a few times. “Not looking to make it a family curse. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

"Yr-- ... Yeah. Sorry." His fists stop clenching. “… You goin’ through that shit with Rhye makes me happy I got to kill him. Shame I wasn’t awake for it.”

"I’ve been attempted on so many times, I lost count. Trust me Crim, it’s alright. I’m just… I’m glad that you care about me, so... don’t worry.” They share a silent moment, staring into each other’s eyes as they both rest on their side. Once self-realization hits, Dahlia’s cheeks flush and she turns onto her back again. “Uh, a-anyway, back to what I was saying. I didn’t know how to defend myself, I only knew how to fly away. He had me pinned next to the bed on the floor. I thrashed around as much as I could, and I was lucky enough to get his expensive lamp to fall on him from his nightstand. I got him off of me and started flying around his room, crying for help while avoiding that maniac. No one came to help. We were there for like... an hour. It got to a point where he was so fucking angry he actually tried to kill me.”

Her ears drop to her head, but her eyes retain the lazy, unenthusiastic look. Witnessing this drives Crimson to frown.

“I feared for my life... I didn’t mean to kill him. I only wanted to scare him off. At some point, I got too tired to keep flying around to avoid him, so being stuck on the ground... I got one of the candles from the dinner table he set up. It was a magical candle that burned forever until you blew on it with your breath. I didn’t even know magical candles existed. I waved it at him and hoped he’d back off. He completely ignored it, and charged at me again. So I threw the candle at him. … He was on fire from mane to tail in less than a second. A blow of your breath wasn’t gonna stop that shit. His fancy suit burned like oil. … I still remember the smell, and the way he screamed. … Death doesn’t bother me anymore, but back then I was so young and naïve, I threw up everything I ate that night. Even my mom didn’t make such awful sounds when she was stabbed to death.”

The bridge connects in the man’s mind – something she said in passing that stuck with him. She had only killed two ponies in her time. Axel was the second life she had ever taken. Zest was the first.

“Once I knew he wasn’t going to chase me and grab me, I ran for the door. There, standing on the other side… were his parents. They were just standing there. The door wasn’t locked, Zest was just guarding it so I wouldn’t leave. They could have walked right in and helped me. But they didn’t. They stood there and waited. They waited and hoped their son would subdue or kill me. It would have been easier to say I died in a work-related accident, or that I committed suicide. … Their faces, the way they looked at me and at their burnt son. … My heart sank. My hope vanished. These ponies really didn't care about me... they would have rather let me die.”

Crimson processes the events revealed to him. He stares at her, at her adorable features. The fact that such a lovable thing, this little pony, had to endure what she had to. A stark contrast between appearance boggles his mind.

“… Don’t know what happened to Pocket and his wife. Not sure if they’re in Manehattan anymore. But that was the day I decided that hope wasn’t a thing I’d put in anyone anymore. From that day on, I never made any friends. I kept everyone distant. I landed a job at United Equestria Postal as a courier for the connecting major cities, it was the only job that fit my lackluster skillset. I delivered mail across Equestria for a few years, until I was… I think twenty? Three years. I didn’t really keep track of time then. I had no one celebrate my birthday and I couldn’t care about it either.”

“… But you know how old you are now, right?”

“Duh. I figured it all out after a while. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy where I was. I didn’t have to talk to ponies for most of my time working. Years of trips alone across Equestria gave me the isolation I learned to love, and it helped me get familiar with the land.”

“What caused you to stop deliverin’ mail?”

“A package that nearly cost me my life. I had no idea that the Horseshoes were using UEP to send packages to each other, I didn’t know a thing about them except that they were a gang everyone was afraid of. Turns out just after my twentieth birthday, a package I was delivering from Las Pegasus to Fillydelphia had an ancient artifact in it. I just carried the packages on my back and the envelopes in my bags, no clue what any of them said or what was in them. That’s what my job always told me to do. So when I was taking the forest pass through the Foal Mountains, I was surprised to get jumped by some ponies wearing black suits.”

“Horseshoe bastards.”

“’Just business’ they said. ‘No hard feelings’ they said. Fuck that, I wasn’t about to let them kill me or take my mail. They were all pegasi too, so they chased me around trying to nab my shit. I flew up the mountains to try and shake them, we spent literally HOURS going in circles. If I wasn't in good shape, like I was back with Pockets, they would have gotten me. But I kept flying, and after a stupidly long time, I thought I lost them. I got too tired to keep flying around and landed on a cliff, I was hoping they didn’t see me. Surprise, surprise, they did. They jumped me from the cliff above. I couldn’t fly anymore, but neither could they. I just... leaped off the cliff into the forest below, hoping I’d live and they’d give up. The desperate fucks did the same thing. To this day, I don’t know how I survived. I broke my left wing but that was it. The stallions following me died in the plummet.”

“Just desserts fer tryin’a jump an innocent girl.”

“Huh, ‘innocent.’ Maybe then, but definitely not after. That innocent girl you’re talking about decided she was fed up with everything in her life going fucking wrong. I limped my sorry ass away and tried figuring out what was so special in my mailbag that I nearly got murdered over it. Broke more than a few laws going through the packages, but yup… there it was. An enchanted diamond spear-head. I took the fucking thing and ran, hoping to sell it for way more than my job could ever earn me. All of my aimless wandering and vague questions led me to the Slums.”

Crimson feels a breath of satisfaction run through his body at the puzzle completed. All of her misfortunate finally led her to the motel of destiny. “And you found ol’ Moobs there.”

“Mmmhm,” she hums. “Found Axel there too, he remembered me and my mom. We kinda trauma bonded for a bit, and he was nice enough to point me in the right direction, and I sold that relic for thousands of bits. Axel took me under his wing, and from that day on, I started stealing things to make a living, from dead and living folks equally.“ She finally puts up an emotion, a devious smile, “I found out I was pretty good at it. Time went on, I got older, more carefree, more clever. My already great flying abilities mixed with my knack of stealing, it was the perfect blend of ingredients that made me Equestria’s best treasure hunter. I always had enough money to survive and plenty left to enjoy myself, and it was fun. Living on my own accord and not letting myself get grounded by anypony. I left myself detached from everypony, and I was happy… until you showed up.”

“Well I beg yer pardon.”

“Oh stop it. Apologizing about the things you actively do isn’t worth anything.”

“What m’I ‘actively doing’ then?”

“Well, you know!” she stumbles.

“I know what?”

“Don’t act dumb. You know what you do.”

“I wouldn’t be askin’ if I did. Just spit it out, girly, we’re already this far.”

“… I don’t know how to word it.”

“Try yer best.”

She silently contemplates what she actually wants to say. Better yet, she already knows what she wants to say, but keeps trying to push it down. “… Promise me you won’t laugh or judge me!”

Crimson leans back slightly at her sudden aggressive loom towards him. “I ain’t even need to promise, I’m not gonna do any of those things.”

“Promise!”

“Alright, fine, I promise.”

Dahlia settles down and lays on her back again. She puts her hooves to her chest, completely regretting getting put into this position. “… You do stuff and say stuff that… makes me feel weird. Like you… care. And stuff. I can tell you’re not just bullshitting me, and it… I don’t know, it just makes me feel things. I’ve gotten really good at knowing when someone is trying to blindside me, but… the first day you woke up in the lodge at the Everfree… my bullshit gauge didn’t work on you. It just kinda felt like you were an open book from the start. It was really confusing.”

Crimson’s small smile progressively gets wider as she finishes speaking. “Y’know, I kinda had a feelin’ you liked me from the start. As it is, I’m honored now you’ve put faith in me. Time enough in Equestria made me realize you don’t ever use yer real name. For anythin’. You tellin’ me who you actually were from the start has always been special t’me. I still wonder why you did that, 'n also why 'Wisp' was the name you chose to hide behind.”

"Ah, yeah. I never did tell you, huh?"

"Nope. By your own words, was none of my business."

"... It's not an interesting story."

"But I'm interested regardless, girly."

She shifts her eyes to the left, as if trying to get input from the wall. "... My mom was the only pony who ever loved my name. She was also the only pony I could be myself around. Everypony else from the Communities thought my name was the equivalent of putting a flower on a grave. They always called me 'Wilted.' So I started lying. Told everypony I changed my name to Wisp. Sort of a play on the insult they use against my name. I liked the word wisp. Wispy. Something that moves gracefully and is tough to see."

"Just like you."

"... Yeah. I spite the world with that name now... but Dahlia Do will always mean more to me. Nopony deserves to know my name. They don't deserve to know that part of me."

"... But from the beginnin', you thought I did."

“… Hmh. Glad that you noticed.”

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

“Didn’t think you’d be alive long enough to let my name matter to you or anyone.”

“That the reason? Sheesh, you really didn’t have confidence in me.”

“Well, not just that. It’s that I-- … well, I…” she stops herself, letting her eyes wander, “… never mind.”

“Never mind, huh? Well, in the event I fuck somethin’ up and get caught by the Royal Guard, I’ll never know what that never mind was about.”

Dahlia sits up and growls at him. “Shut up! Don’t say shit like that!”

“Probably get kept in the dungeon forever… maybe they’ll kill me…”

“Crimson, what the fuck? Stop!”

“They’ll cut my head clean off…”

“Okay, okay! Just stop!” Crimson smirks at her adorable desperation. “You better not get fucking caught, or else. I don’t wanna relive what we already went through.”

“I won’t. Not if I can help it.”

Dahlia huffs a frustrated breath onto his face before she backs away again. “… I told you my name from the start not just cuz I thought you’d die, I… liked… you.”

Crimson looks towards the trepid mare who keeps her face away, feeling his face heat up lightly. “… You liked me?”

“Right! Okay, anyways!” Dahlia puts her hooves together and smiles to Crimson unnervingly. “You interrupted me at the part where I was saying you screwed everything up for me. I’ll have you know I had a great six years of tomb raiding and adventure-finding before you showed up, thank you very much.”

“Hm,” Crimson hums, knowing not to push her buttons farther than he already has. “Six whole years. You’re twenty-six now?”

“Ding-ding-ding, we have a winner.”

The man smiles with satisfaction. “A year younger than I am.”

“Twenty-seven, huh? Thought you were older, honestly.”

“I give off that look?”

“Kinda. You’re fucking huge. Well, your face matches your age, but your body makes you look… thirty? I guess. I don’t know humans or whatever.”

“You ain’t too far off. I’ve even gotten that from other folks back at Earth.”

“Hey, speaking of Earth. I’ve told you about ME. It’s only fair that you spill the beans about yourself now. I remember what you told me back then, but now I want everything.”

The man chuckles, “Everything?”

“We have time to kill,” she points to the clock. “Everything.”

The man looks towards the wall clock and does indeed see they still have about nine hours before show-time. He brings his thumb-knuckle to his left brow, sighing deeply. “… Alright. Fair. But, not until I address what you said earlier.”

"What'd I say?" Crimson reaches his arm over Dahlia's head and puts it around her. He holds her close and pulls her in, receiving a shiver and a "Huh?" from her in response.

"... I like you too." Red overrides the tan coat upon her cheeks and muzzle. Before she has a chance to speak a protest, the man starts up first, "Long story, not as interestin' as yers... but... I guess it started with my pa'."

Dahlia's blushing trepidation remains on her face as she is held close, but fails to deter a smile which forms on her lips. She nestles in comfortably at his side and listens just as intently as he did.

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