A creeping chill, running amok down your back, is the first thing that registers. The dull thrum of idly creaking wood follows shortly after, bouncing to and fro in your ears, giving the sound an almost echo-like quality. The soft, floral smell of freshly washed linens wafts about, a pleasant addition to an otherwise poor array of senses thus far.

Your eyes peel open, vision obscured by half of the blanket that Twilight had given you. Even having adjusted to the darkness, you still have to squint to see most things in your room. They instinctively lock onto the alarm clock, your fogged mind sluggishly processing the positions of the hands.

6:48 in the morning. Seems that even after being freed of your short-lived career, you still can’t stop beating the alarm.

You can already feel how tired you’re going to be during the festival, given how late it was before you finally passed out. Still, though, you hold close to your chest the fact that the bluish-amber light breaking through the windows signifies the start of a new chapter for you. One with less brown-nosing, hopefully.

You write the first few words by sitting up on the side of the bed, a few delightful pops sounding off as your joints spring to use. You stretch your back concavely and extend your arms to the sky, wringing out the remaining cracks the further you extend. With a contented grunt, you rise from the bed, static ensuring that the front of your pajamas stick to your legs as your feet meet the cold, wooden floor.

The brisk, still air envelops your nude upper half as the down blanket slides off of you, coming to rest with a gentle thud from its surprising weight. As you stand, you involuntarily stretch your legs out as well, every muscle straining against you in the ecstasy of long-awaited movement. A yawn escapes from deep within your throat, airing a particularly noxious bout of morning breath into the otherwise pleasantly scented room. One accidental whiff and a scowl develops; this simply won’t do.

Scanning the poorly lit room, you find your suitcase still standing in the spot that Twilight had left it in. You walk over and throw it on its side, zipping it open with ease due to how full it is. Digging through the entirety of your wardrobe and belongings, you find the bag of your various toiletries resting somewhere near the bottom, disrupting your carefully calculated mess as you fish it out. You grab an outfit for good measure, resolving to get completely ready. No sense in breaking the process up, is there?

Carefully, quietly, you open the door to your room, peeking out to see if anyone is awake. The darkened living room to your left is dead silent, as is the kitchen to your right; it seems your friends have yet to stir from their deep slumber.

Clutching your outfit and other articles, you open the door fully and pass into the noticeably colder open room, a shiver threatening to once again use your spine as transit. You make haste for the bathroom adjacent to the kitchen, not wanting to offend your prudent hostess with your partial indecency.

Not that it would, in a land of pastel nudists. Sure, it’s not the same, since they’re only actually exposed when they feel like it, but…

You throw out that train of thought entirely with a shake of your head, opting instead to focus on freshening up. A brief trek across the kitchen lands you in the bathroom, which is somehow colder than the rest of the house. Teeth chittering almost comically, you shut the door behind you, holding the handle down until it makes no noise as you release your grip on it.

You slip the lock into place and strip out of your clothes, placing your toiletries and your clothes to the right of the sink as you dig into your bag of essentials first, picking out your toothbrush and toothpaste.

A quick shimmy over to the sink, and you’re face to face with your reflection. You pause for a moment, eyeing yourself up and down. Not bad, but not great, either - an unremarkable body reflects a thusly unremarkable life, you guess.

You don’t give yourself any time to linger on it, quickly dispensing some toothpaste on your brush and going to town. After a lengthy round-trip through your mouth, you spit out what remains, only rinsing slightly to keep your breath minty. Drying off the brush, you put both it and the tube of paste back into your bag before heading over to the shower and letting the water heat up.

Before long, steam steadily begins billowing out from behind the curtain, prompting you to fetch your various washes from the bag and hop in. The jump from the dry cold of the house to the humid heat of the shower is bliss, and that’s before the water even starts hitting you. You shuffle underneath the stream, and the sheer difference in temperature is enough to chase your shivering away almost instantly.

The water washes over all, dragging all of the woes of yesterday - as well as the past few years - down the drain, where they belong. It’s a while before you actually begin your self-ministrations, and slowly at that. Time crosses your mind once or twice, but you woke up early enough that you can comfortably relax.

Rarity Mode initiated.

---

One last look in the mirror.

Outfit looks good; the beige turtleneck that Rarity gave you for Hearth’s Warming ties it all together. You hope she notices the effort. It’s the least you can do, since she’s effectively the only seamstress that goes out of her way to make clothes for you.

Hair’s styled properly, but now that you’ve broken free of Flair’s restrictive dress code, you openly wonder what it would look like if you let it grow out.

Deodorant: applied. Cologne: delectable and fragrant.

Breath?

You exhale onto the back of your hand to quickly check - immaculately minty.

With everything shipshape, you make for the door but stop yourself just short of opening it, gaze affixed to the mirror. Even with your neutral glare, you look genuinely happier, as if your features themselves had been lifted from their plight. It puts an actual, real smile on your face. Not a big one, and not even that wide, but real nonetheless.

Here’s hoping you can keep that going.

You open the door and traipse into the kitchen once more, greeted - surprisingly - by Spike, sitting down at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee, looking outrageously tired. Immediately, you catch his eye, and he frowns out of confusion, slowly raising his pointer finger in your direction as you stand there, a dumb smile plastered all over your face as you cross your arms.

A few seconds pass without an exchange of words, each of you waiting patiently for the other to finally say something.

“Am I still…?” Spike mumbles, tapering off before he can finish his sentence.

“Spin a top and find out,” you reply cheekily.

He retracts his finger, putting said hand to better use by taking a swig of his coffee.

“...Huh?”

Your pert grin falls a bit, but you didn’t expect him to get it anyway.

“Human thing. But no, you’re not still dreaming.”

Another swig is lazily gulped down, the mug draining at an astonishing rate for the young dragon.

“Okay, good,” he says in return, rubbing one of his eyes as he does. “Didn’t wanna get my hopes up for nothing.”

A pang of content in your chest tugs the corner of your mouth upward into a good-natured smirk.

“Missed you too, Spike.”

He smiles softly through his tired expression, gaze affixed to his coffee.

“Let me finish this stuff, and I’ll be a bit more chatty, I think.”

“You think?”

“It’s just not the same thing as tea, dude,” he replies, a tinge of annoyance toward his drink in his tone. “I usually crash more often than it gives me any energy.”

You repress a chuckle just barely.

“Yeah? We can get some from the vendors today, then.”

Mid-swig of coffee, his eyes light up, pointed directly at you.

“No way! Are you coming with us?” he asks after finishing his sip, tone expectant of your confirmation.

Did he think you were just popping in to say hi? Just how much of a husk were you the last time you saw everyone…?

You opt to sit across from him. Beats standing around like a jerk while you’re waiting for Twilight, anyway.

“You bet, little dude! I couldn’t think of anything better to do even if I tried.”

Your face falls when you realize that your choice of words was harshly subpar at best.

“Wow, that, uh, came out wrong. I meant that, like-”

A few stiff moments pass without further input. You can’t really come up with anything beyond your backpedaling.

That’s odd; usually you’re a lot better at talking than this. Come to think of it, just about everything you’ve said to him so far seemed kinda sloppily put together. Maybe you’re just nervous about seeing everyone again?

“Nah, nah, I get what you mean,” Spike interjected. “I live with the princess of misspeaking, remember?”

You both share a hearty chuckle at his good-natured jab.

“Speaking of her, is she still getting ready?”

“Yep. She should be finished pretty soon, though. I still have to get freshened up, but I’m about done with my coffee, so it won’t take long at all.”

He goes to take another swig, but stops himself halfway and glares with thinly veiled disgust at the contents of his mug.

“Actually… Do you want the rest of this?”

You weren’t exactly the commissar of coffee, but what the hell, you could use a little pick-me-up.

“Sure, why not?”

He eagerly hands you the mug before he slips out of his seat and heads back upstairs, presumably to complete the morning routine. As such, you’re left in contemplative silence once more. Or, at least, you would be, if a gentle pitter-patter on the kitchen window didn’t draw your attention.

The gentle blue light from before has been replaced with gorgeous amber light, somehow breaking through the dense cloud cover and blanketing the outside in an early sunshine, slightly obscured by the light snowfall piling up at the windowsill. How does Princess Celestia do this every day?

...

Wait, it’s-

It’s snowing! And quite a bit, too, if that sizable little pile was anything to go by.

That shouldn’t excite you as much as it does, what with you having lived in Canterlot, but still! It’s snowing, and for once, you can actually take some time to enjoy it. The fact that you can actually give yourself the opportunity to be happy about it is, in turn, putting a dopey grin on your face that you don’t bother hiding, not even when a familiar set of hoofsteps graces your ears.

“Whoo… Okay!”

You turn around, equally as mirthful about the unicorn descending the stairs. Still, you don’t wanna just up and hit her with a smile that’s registered at a category 5 on the ham-scale, so you settle it down into a light grin.

She’s bundled up in a dark blue down jacket, a fuchsia sweater, and her favorite beanie, as well as a nice pair of fur-lined winter boots. Ethically sourced fur, of course. Fluttershy would have pitched a fit, otherwise.

She quickly eyes the clock as she descends the final few steps, turning to you once she reaches the ground floor.

“It’s 9:34 right now. The walk to Ponyville Park takes around ten or so minutes, and Spike just started his routine, which will only take a couple minutes since he bathed last night.”

Her gaze tapers off into indiscriminate space, focused on thought alone.

“Everything taken into account, we should be there right before preparations start!”

Sounds perfect to you. All that’s left is to wait for Spike and-

You haven’t eaten yet.

“Oh, god, I should probably eat something fast, then, huh?”

Without delay, you down the rest of Spike’s coffee on the spot.

Eugh - this blend is really fucking bitter, no wonder he didn’t like it.

You move to check the cabinets to see if there are any breakfast bars, but Twilight happily chimes in before you have the chance to leave your seat.

“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to grab something on the way? A new breakfast place moved into town since you’ve been here, and I think you’d really like it.”

That piques your attention to a degree that somewhat embarasses you. Internally, at least.

You slowly look back at the mare, an eyebrow of utmost interest cocked into the heavens, your face taking on a grave expression.

“Do they serve… gourmet bagels?” you inquire, sounding like a Bond villain revealing his master plan.

She giggles up a storm at your ridiculous expression, her gaze firmly locked onto yours. Her little laughing fit wears off, but her smile doesn’t. You drop the faux seriousness, her infectious smile taking you over easily.

“What? I’m serious about my bagels, Twilight.”

“I know, I know,” she relents, “I just… You haven’t even been here a day, and it already feels like you’re bouncing back to how you were when you first got here.”

She frowns just a bit, catching something in her wording that you hadn’t noticed.

“Well, n-not right when you first got here, that was… pretty traumatic. I-I meant the months after that.”

The infamous ‘awkward Twilight grin’ is on full display, likely due to her little lapse in speech that you never would’ve caught, had she not corrected herself. You rise from your seat properly, the same gentle smile from earlier still lightly set upon your features as you walk over to Twilight, stopping just shy of the mildly perplexed mare.

Her confusion ends as you reach your hand out toward her head and begin scratching away at the base of her ear, a gentle firmness throughout. Instantly, she leans into it, having been on the receiving end of it for as long as she’s known you. She grunts softly as her eyes close halfway, glassing over a tad.

“I still don’t know what to think about the fact that humans do this to their pets, too.”

You scoff at the notion, mild banter at the ready.

“Well, I sure as hell don’t consider any of you guys my pets, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I-I didn’t mean-”

“Besides, that pet play stuff is waaaaay too kinky for me.”

She wrenches free of your scritching hand, her exasperated glare threatening to melt you down into human soup.

“A-Anon! Gross! You know that’s not what I meant!”

You cannot help the bellowing guffaw that rises from the deepest pit of your gut, leaning on a nearby wall for support while you laugh your ass clean off.

“Oh, it’s too fun to mess with you, Twi,” you struggle out, unable to stop laughing long enough to get the sentence to flow together in one piece.

She scrunches her muzzle at you with a frown; widely known as the universal pony symbol for “I’m mad at you, but in a friendly kind of way.” As your laughter finally fizzes out, a voice from the stairs grabs both of your attention.

“What’d you get her with this time, Anon?” Spike calls out, the prominent scales on his head looking shinier than they were earlier.

A shit-eating grin takes hold, not unnoticed by Twilight, who once more affixes her laser-like gaze solely on you, almost daring you to say something. Luckily for her, you’d rather not traumatize your dragon bro.

“A good one. Remind me to tell you about it when you’re older.”

A sigh of relief can be heard next to you. Glancing down at its source, you see a far more relaxed Twilight, raising her signature Eyebrow of Shame™. Even so, the unmistakable traces of a smile form as she lowers her guard.

Yeah, this mare is definitely your best friend by a damn sight.

“Aw, man,” Spike dejectedly sighs. “You know I age slower than you guys, right?”

“All the better,” Twilight stonewalls in unison with you.

Another groan as Spike reaches the bottom of the stairwell.

“Fine, suit yourselves. We should get going, though, if we still wanna get breakfast.”

Oh, right, that. You should have plenty of-

“Oh, shoot!” the perfect attendance holder next to you exclaims. “We really do need to leave!”

A wayward glance up at the clock reveals that it’s 9:46. Hopefully, that’s just enough time to eat on the go. Wouldn’t wanna be starved while you’re trying to help somebody out, would you?

“I’m ready if you two are. That bagel’s callin’ my name.”

“I’m ready to roll,” Spike confirms, grabbing his little coat off of the rack by the front door.

“Well, in that case,” Twilight replies, using her magic to grab her scarf from the same rack. “Let’s go see about helping some ponies, shall we?”

That infectious grin is back. You grab your own standing-collar jacket before holding the door open for the two of them, both thanking you as they step out into the sunlit snowfall. With a dip of your head, you, too, pass through the doorway, deeply joyful to be with those close to you like this again.

…

Okay, the promise of a bagel is helping, too.

Next Chapter: 4 - Helping Hands Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 37 Minutes