“It’s funny, the way things work. Up until recently, I blamed myself for something that was completely out of my control on a near daily basis, but now that I have context for what is and isn’t resultant of my actions, I can’t help but feel really stupid. Leave it to the mother of the pony I nearly murdered to put things into perspective.

“Even recently, I’ve still been deluding myself. I would tell myself that I want to find a cure for petrification not because I feel responsible, but because I genuinely want to. Wow, was I ever wrong, doc.” Pausing, I glance away from the ceiling to appraise the creme stallion occupying the chair opposite of the chaise longue I’m on. The unicorn strokes his gray Santa Claus beard idly with one hoof as he takes notes. “You were right when you said I was obsessed, but I just didn’t know how badly I was letting it affect me.”

Clear Conscience tilts his head, giving me a disarming smile. “Oh? Tell me about this change in opinion.” His tone is not at all judgemental “Did something happen?”

Rolling onto my back, I give him an upside-down frown. “Well, to tell the truth, I’ve been deluding myself into thinking that my actions and opinions weren’t affected by my obsession. I thought as long as I was justified in my research and I could find a cure, everypony else could go choke on a dick as long as I left my mark.” I blush at the frankness of my rather obscene phrasing, but I make no effort to correct myself. “Instead, I’ve just been a really anti-social pony because of it.

“Yesterday, at the entrance ceremony, I sat beside a member of a very prominent noble family. For whatever reason, she thought I was a noble, and perhaps sought for me to become one of her many sycophants,” I explain, feeling my gorge beginning to rise as I recount the incident. “When my roommate—a griffon—showed me to the cafeteria, the noble assumed she was a bodyguard...”

“You didn’t like that,” he observes, noting the tone of my voice.

“I was pissed off in a way I haven’t been since I came to Equestria. Here I am in what is, for all intents and purposes, paradise with some narrow-minded noble automatically assuming that the griffon beside me is a bodyguard or underling!” I say, my voice rising in intensity with each syllable. “See, back on Earth, we have an expression: racial stereotyping. The basic concept is that you apply negative stereotypes to people of ethnicities other than your own. White people are all racist. Black people are all thieves. Asians are all mathematical geniuses. That kind of shit. Obviously, griffons are only good for bounty hunters and bodyguards, right?”

Sighing, I flick my eyes away. “Needless to say, I kind of lost it.” I sheepishly attempt to droop my ears in shame, but of course it isn’t the most simple thing to do when you’re upside down. “I chewed her out in front of the entire cafeteria, not just for being a bigot, but for assuming too much.” Letting out a heavy sigh, I return my gaze to the ceiling. “I told her in no uncertain terms that I had no use for ponies like her and to ‘Take your noble privilege and shit all over it for all I care.’”

Clear flinches visibly at my phrasing. “Ouch,” he comments. “I take it that didn’t turn out very well.”

“Eh, could have been worse,” I flail a hoof dismissively. “There was an attempt to get me expelled, but somepony I knew really helped save my arse. That’s not particularly what’s bothering me now, though.”

“Oh?”

Rolling back onto my belly, I rest my chin in my forehooves. “I was so riled up that given the opportunity to eat meat again, I jumped at it. I didn’t give a second thought to how it might affect the other ponies,” I solemnly moan. “I mean, yeah, I got the opportunity to reclaim something of myself I’d lost in becoming a pony—don’t even try to convince me to give meat up again—and I even suffered a bit for it, but do you know what I found out today?”

His query is ripe with concern at the rising anxiety in my own tone. “What did you learn?”

“Some poor young mare nearly quit the university because of what I did last night.” I sniffle and try to hide myself. “I know this is actually my fault—unlike Pound—because of the things she was saying. I traumatized the poor girl into thinking that I’m some vicious cannibal mare out of mythology. Mare of Thrace my fetlock.”

“So you feel guilty for the way others are being affected by your choices now that you recognize what things are actually a result of your actions,” he surmises.

“I guess so,” I mumble, turning my head to look out the window. I’ve been here for nearly an hour, and the sun is already making its last stand on the horizon. Soon enough, Princess Luna will be raising the moon, and this session will end. Glancing back at the doctor, I see his quill wrapped up in his magic, scribbling furiously away on his notepad. “After this session is over, I’m actually going to try to ease the fears of the young mare. Luna knows it’s the right thing to do.”

Doctor Clear Conscience looks at me with poorly veiled pride. It takes me a full moment to realize why he might be proud of me. “Very good, Silver,” he expresses softly. “You’re learning.” We exchange silent stares for a long while before he clears his throat. “Now that we’ve cleared that section of your troubles, I was hoping we could discuss next week’s top—”

I don’t bother letting him finish. “My parents.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Next week, we are talking about my parental abandonment issues,” I explain. “I was ready to get that out of the way this week, but I like to ramble like a damned idiot, it seems.” That last part immediately draws a disapproving glare from the therapist. Go figure, right? I engage in an act of self-recrimination, and the doc gets cross. “Okay, sorry. I know insulting myself does nothing for my self esteem. Can you please stop giving me that look?”

Sighing, Clear closes his notebook, placing it aside. “Alright, so I’ll see you at our next session, then,” he says, shaking his head. “Just make sure to discuss an alternate time for next week’s session with Lacy before you go. I have to be out of town at our usual time.”

With a vigorous nod, I hop off of the chaise, and trot over to the door. The pile beside it, my cloak and saddlebags, is exactly as I left it. Sure, it’s messier than hanging it on the coat rack in front of which I dropped my belongings, but I’ve always preferred keeping my things together when I’m out. I always have, and always will.

I wordlessly pull on my cloak and lope out the open door. That’s something else I’ve never gotten about Clear Conscience. He has this really odd concept of an open door policy. The door remains open as a sign of trust in both him and the respect ponies should hold for the privacy of patients in a therapist’s office. It’s kind of scary the way he thinks, but what’s worse is that it actually makes sense in that strange pony way. At least the open door policy expedites the comings and goings of patients.

Soon enough, I’m rounding the corner in the hallway and passing his secretary’s desk. In fact, my timing is apparently so good that I’m here just at the right opportunity to hear Lacy Locks saying, “For the last time, Prince Blueblood, your alcoholism counselling sessions are on Thursday; not Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday.” When I look, sure enough there’s Blueblood, drunk as a skunk. “Further, if you continue coming here while intoxicated, I’m going to call the guard.”

The pompous noble, in all his pickled glory, puffs up his chest and scowls at the secretary. “How dare you speak to me—a prince!—with such impudence!” he growls, his volume increasing with every syllable. “You will address me as Your Highness, or Your Excellency in the presence of my subjects.”

To accentuate his point, Blueblood envelops his horn in a shimmering blue field of magic. All at once, I feel a pain at the base of my neck, just above my withers, as I’m jerked across the room and held floating between the mare and stallion. As the secretary and I exchange our own pained looks, the intoxicated aristocrat begins a tirade about lowborn pegasi and earth ponies learning their place in life.

Now, I’d like to pretend that I had some sort inspiring speech that would convince the willpower-impaired aristocrat to leave peacefully and work on restoring his public image. Unfortunately, no words come to me. All I can think about is the magic being used to hold me here, noting a shiver of fear spreading through my heart. I force myself to look away from him.

Given all that’s happened to me because of magic, it’s no real surprise that I’m uncomfortable with magic. After all, my entire life was altered—ruined might be a term I would use if I were feeling more dramatic—by the magics of one little unicorn and her magical world. Wouldn’t you be hesitant about it if every time the word floated to mind, you are reminded that this world isn’t your home by choice?

Most of the time though, it’s not an issue. It’s, for the most part, a facet of everyday life for ponies. It kind of helps that nopony willingly gets into your personal space with it. Okay, yes, you do have unicorn doctors, nurses, and the like who are very hooves-on with their magic, but there’s a certain degree of trust involved, as with all medical professionals. Even living with Candy’s unicorn mother, Forceps, it was never really a problem. Living with a unicorn, you get used to it, just as she gets used to your personal boundaries.

Unlike the casual levitation of objects or a physical scan from a doctor, however, Blueblood’s magical grip just feels... wrong. There’s no other word to describe it, really. In addition to the pain it is inflicting, there’s this lingering sense of perversion radiating from it. The aura is cool, cruel, and unfit to rule.

In a way, it almost feels as invasive as the spell Shining Armor used to delve into my mind alongside Chancellor Modest in order to prove my innocence. I remember in that instance that there was a pulling sensation at my mind that—in spite of my over-eager consent—left me feeling rather violated, baring my memories and very thoughts for both to see. It’s no surprise that the stallions felt ill, afterward; my disorganized mind showed them more than just what they needed to see. They may or may not have also born witness to a certain drunken tryst many moons ago.

Blueblood’s cruel levitation spell pulls at the base of my neck, and so too is my discomfort practically projected back unto him. I’m almost certain that he is aware of my unease, and even reveling in that fact. Being used to getting his way, it only makes sense that he would know spells that would continue to allow him to do so. It is for this reason—this cruelty and sense of invasion—that I am afraid.

I bite back my fear and random thoughts—oh how he could just snap my neck like a pretzel—and return my pleading eyes to him. All I manage to say through the pain of being magically held by the scruff of my neck is, “Your Highness... Please! Let me down!” I even whimper pitifully as I speak. “You’re h-hurting me.”

Blueblood is not at all gentle as he puts me down. In fact, putting me down is probably not the most accurate phrase to apply to the situation. It’s more like he dropped me. He dropped me on my goddamn face. I’m not exactly sure how I ever managed to go a year without bumping my muzzle—misadventures as Lyra aside—but this is easily one of the more painful things I’ve experienced in Equestria. It’s right up there with having a shard of crystal stabbed through my shoulder.

Even as I rub my muzzle in pain, I can hear Lacey shouting, “Yeah, add assault to the list of things I’ll call the guards for, you lout.” Through tear-filled eyes, I watch that royal arsehole trotting off indifferently through the door. That sight is quickly blocked by Lacey offering me a hoof up. “Are you okay?”

After being cooped up in that office for an hour and then subsequently being rudely held against my will, my wings ache to be put to use. It’s just as well. The streets are oddly crowded for this time of night and it does nothing to ease the claustrophobic sensation welling up inside me; I’d swear there’s some sort of festival or celebration going on, but for the life of me I can’t imagine what it is.

To make things worse, ponies are just standing around. They aren’t making any efforts to move out of the way, or even walk for that matter. Ponies are just scattered inconveniently about the street, staring expectantly up at the mountain—Unity Summit, Twilight’s tutoring reminds me. A look to the sky reveals absolutely nothing out of the ordinary aside from the lack of air traffic.

Much preferring a quick flight to the normal slog through the labyrinthine city, I push off from the ground and let my wings take over for me. Why not, right? Have wings, will travel, as they say. Within moments, I’m rising up above the rooftops. It might even be the most cliched thing in the world—fuck knows it’s the punniest—but after being subject to boorish Blueblood’s abusive touch, the ability to take flight and escape the crowd is positively uplifting.

There’s another reason I’d much rather fly: as great as Starling’s compass is at getting me where I need to go, the thing is conspicuous as all hell when you keep whipping it out to make sure the needle didn’t change direction. That’s not even taking to account the hide cord; the magical artifact must have spent time in the possession of an omnivorous or carnivorous being at some point, because nopony would wear such a thing around their necks otherwise. Come to think of it, I think that’s why that curio merchant was so eager to sell that thing. Maybe I should ask—

Any thoughts I might have had slip from my mind when I cross over a park not too far off from the university and something bright and noisy streaks by on my right. There isn’t enough time for me to get a good look at it, but I’m smart enough to recognize that keening whistle and accompanying static hiss. Even if I wasn’t, there’s no mistaking the next few screamers flying up past me. “Oh you have got to be kidding me!” I shout to nopony in particular, as I screw my eyes shut to protect my retinas. “Did I seriously just fly into a fireworks display?” At least if I rely on a pegasus’ perception of air currents, I should be able to anticipate their paths enough to not get hit.

All at once, this peaceful flight over Canterlot feels more like I’m piloting a fighter jet through a hail of anti-aircraft fire. So many are coming so close to hitting me that my coat is practically standing on end from the fear. Only split-second jerks to the side save me. What would happen if one struck me? Would I simply plummet to the ground, leaving a bloody smear on the cobblestone walkway?

Just as suddenly as the wave of screamers began, it ends just as quickly. I heave a sigh of relief as I flick my eyelids open, noting that I’m still headed directly for the university atrium. Somepony must have seen me and called an emergency stop to the display until I’m safely out of the way. Glancing down at the ground though, I see nothing until a bright flash fills my vision, and a resounding bang jerks me slightly off-course. “Fuck!” I scream out in pain, as my overexposed retinae get an unhealthy dose of bright light.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t blink away the black spot in the center of my vision. A panic fills my gullet as the situation hits me; I’m literally flying blind, and nopony knows I’m up here. “This really is not my day.” I whimper as I pull my eyes shut. There’s no other option, then. I’ve gotta pull myself into a lower flight path until I can feel the rooftop’s effect on the air currents. It’s dangerous in that I could very well get caught up in a blast, but my only other choice is to guess when I’m over the university grounds.

“Here goes nothing...”

By the time I’ve reached the stairwell to the Sagittarius dorm, there’s still an enormous black spot eating into my vision, and I feel like my mane may have been on fire at some point during my flight. A normal pony would probably be panicking at this point, and by all rights I should be panicked that I might be more than just flash blind, but I honestly am not thinking straight today. Getting blown up a couple of times in one night tends to do that to you.

Unfortunately, the air in hallway is flowing in the wrong direction for me to be able to clearly get a mental image of the path ahead. Being blinded even temporarily is a problem for most ponies, and not having the use of a secondary sense such as Wind Sight or magic would put them at a major disadvantage. Pegasi, on the other hoof, have another card in play, however. Whereas a unicorn or earth pony might have to hobble along with one hoof against the wall, a pegasus can just stretch out one wing like an arm and use her primary feathers to trace along the walls and doors. It works for mazes, so why not your dormitory, right?

Instead of heading straight down the hall and three doors around the bend—not that I counted, I just remember—it’s probably best that I stop by my own dormitory first. Not only do I want to drop off my cloak and saddlebags, I need to wash up. There’s no doubt that if my mane is singed, the rest of my coat is probably dirty and smells of smoke or chemicals. As much as I might enjoy smelling like arson, the mare I’m going to be visiting is scared enough of me without me looking like I just burst through the gates of Tartarus.

With a groan, I push open the door, hoping that I am not mistaken and pushing open the door to the wrong dorm room. The fact that there are no locks on these doors is worrisome in that regard. “Gale?” I call out, leaning against the open door. “You in?”

“I’m right here, can’t you s—whoa!” I hear her reply. Well, that answers that, she’s definitely here, and by the sound of it, she’s over at her own desk.. “Silver girl, what happened to you? You look like you got too close to the business end of a dragon!”

“Every end of a dragon means business, Gale” I can’t help but rely on a droll tone of voice. After all, my eyesight is still gone, I’m probably more than a little scorched, and I still need to visit the pony who thinks I am evil. Putting up with somepony ragging on dragons is honestly not on my to-do list. “There was a fireworks display this evening that I was not made aware of. Turns out sharing a flight path with a large starburst is like getting too close to the sun.”

It doesn’t take eyesight to know when you’re being stared at, and I’m definitely being stared at. “Wait, so are you blind right now?” she asks, suddenly a lot more concerned.

“Just a smidgen,” I chuckle, closing the door with my back hoof. Theres no point standing in the doorway, so I extend a wing to the wall and make my way over to my own desk and bed. Another thing that doesn’t take eyesight is the shucking of a cloak and saddlebags, which I’m glad for. “I’ve kinda got somepony to go see, and she’s already a bit skittish of me, so tell me the truth. How bad do I look?”

Gale plods across the room and makes a circle around me. At various points, she runs a claw across various points on my coat or mane. “Your coat isn’t so bad. A shower will probably help in that respect, but your mane is probably a lost cause.” There’s a bit of a bit of a snicker. “You’re probably going to need a cut.”

“Great,” I grumble.

After making my way into the ensuite bathroom and a harrowing ordeal in the shower, I feel presentable enough for what I need to do. I’m not going to win any beauty contests if my mane is singed enough that I need a haircut, but after a quick brushing—what is it about grooming each other that ponies and griffons find so enticing?—and an explanation of why I’m going to visit the aforementioned pony, Gale seems to be content that I’m not going to scare the pants off of anypony.

I can somewhat see again, but you could still practically walk right up to me and buck me in the face. I wouldn’t see it until the last possible moment. It’s certainly a wonderful handicap to be walking into a potentially hostile situation, even if—at worst—it should only end in screaming. After all, it doesn’t mean she’s not going to fight back if she feels threatened. That’s cornered-animal instinct territory right there, which is something I’m all too familiar with.

For that reason, I am a bit more tentative making my way down the hallway. Back on Earth, I would probably be pepper-sprayed if I showed up on the doorstep of a woman utterly terrified of me. For all I know, I’ll get a canister of bear repellant in my face if they even open the door. It still needs to be done, regardless of my potential for further misfortune.

Strangely, there’s nopony else about the hallway tonight. Even the dorm rooms I pass on the way are completely silent. Everypony is probably off observing the fireworks commemorating whatever event or holiday I’ve forgotten. This thought gives me pause. “Will she even be home?” I can’t help but ask myself aloud. It’s a valid concern. This Ice Blossom could very well be out watching the display this very minute. Maybe this was a mistake? No. I can’t walk away without trying, not after I gave Velvet my word.

Arriving at my destination, I allow myself a momentary pause of silence before knocking loudly on the door. There’s no answer right away, but that doesn’t mean there’s nopony there. Again, I knock in an evenly paced three-beat accompanied by my voice. “Hello?” I call out, suddenly conscious of my voice. Would she recognize it? “Is Ice Blossom in?”

No response comes from the other side of the door. The quiet reigns long enough that I’m convinced that she isn’t in, but just as I turn to scarper, the faint scraping of hooves on the other side of the door. Still, no answer comes. Even after another minute of silence, nopony replies.

“Ice Blossom?” I once again ask in a soft voice. “My name is Silver Script, and I was hoping we could talk for a bit.”

“Go away!” a heavily accented voice screams from within the dorm room.

Yup! She definitely remembers my voice. “This is all a misunderstanding!” I cry, put off by her insistence that I am going to bring her harm. “Look, I spoke with Twilight Velvet—you know, the dorm’s matron?—and I heard that you wish to leave Sagittarius Hall, if not the school, because of what I did in the cafeteria. I just wanted to talk to you about that. May I please come in?”

“No!” she screams once more. “You are just telling me this so that I will let down my guard! You think me to be foolish and naive like lamb, but I am not! You will not eat me!” Her voice is shrill and frantic, but still her accent is unmistakable. There’s something to be said about the way one pronounces certain characters, and the way she struggles with her Ls, I cannot help but be reminded of non-native English speakers from the Far East.

Difficulty strikes as I struggle against my desire to stomp my hooves in frustration. Still she insists that I’m some heartless monster here to gobble her up. Is this how Princess Luna felt on her first Nightmare Night? Bloody hell! “I’m not going to eat you, damn it all!” I reply, losing my cool. “Oh no! I ate the flesh of a non-sapient species other than fish! Watch out! I must be a damn cannibal! Do you even hear yourself?

“Nopony bats an eyelash at griffons, but Celestia forbid someone who grew up in a culture much unlike anything these ponies can understand simply has a little nibble of chicken without causing a great to-do,” I continue ranting at the door. Once I realize that yelling at the pony I was attempting to calm down isn’t helping, I hang my head in shame. “I guess hoping I could ease your fears was too much to ask. You’ll never let an outsider like myself speak up in my defense. Instead, I just sound like a spoiled child.”

With a sigh, I turn away from the door. Blinking away tears, I take a shuddering step in the direction of my dorm, not even bothering to extend a wing to the wall for guidance. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for yelling and wasting your time Miss Blossom.” It’s a bit late to be using respectful titles, but what the hell; I can at least surrender as gracefully as a pony can when they’re shaking with anger and disappointment.

Luna preserve me... Did I really just attack the pony I was supposed to be helping over something incredibly petty as an indignity? She plans on leaving the dorm because she’s convinced I’m going to eat her. All I had to do was calmly try to reason with her, but instead, I lose my shit and yell at her. If this is how I help, maybe I belong in an asylum.

“You sounded so sincere about what you said,” that incredibly accented voice calls out when I’m just near the corner. “Do you really come from a culture outside Equestria or the Griffon Kingdoms?”

“More outside than you know,” I mutter wistfully.

“I... also come from afar,” she says. “Perhaps I was quick to be swept up in fear of the unknown. So quick I was to forget that Equestrian culture is so unlike my own—so much more accepting of outsiders.”

I turn my head back to face her, thankful that I can vaguely make out her appearance. That’s good; if I am starting to see again, that means my eyesight is returning to normal and that I didn’t completely burn out my retinae. “You’re Neighponese, aren’t you?” It’s honestly not that far of a stretch to imagine. For one, she speaks in that manner where Ls come out as Rs, and her Equestrian comes off rather stiffly. That her own people are less than accepting of outsiders or the unknown is not dissimilar to the Japanese. Sure, they tolerate outsiders who respect their ways, but like everybody else, you’ll be treated like an idiot if you act like one. Given all the other strange congruities in the world, and my previous suspicions that Neighpon is in fact this world’s Japan, I feel confident enough banking on this.

“I... yes.” She seems caught off guard by that. Her frost-white posture shifts nervously, and I’m sure if I could make out her expression, it would be one of surprise. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Just the accent, really,” I reply, smiling weakly. “The rest was based on speculation. I could tell you about it, if you want. I mean, I’d have to tell you my entire story for it to make much sense, but I don’t mind.”

Again, Ice Blossom shifts anxiously on the spot in front of her door. “I... Do you promise not to eat me?” It’s not so much a question as it is a tease. I still nod in order to appease her. “I have time for a story.”

“Let me start off by saying that this story is going to sound insane to you, and not just because I very nearly went insane once,” I joke as I lay down on the floor in front of her bed. “There are probably going to be a lot of things that won’t make much sense, but please bear with me until the end of my tale.

“I wasn’t always a pony. Heck, I wasn’t always a mare, either. I used to be an omnivorous creature called a human. The best way I can describe it is a tall, bipedal ape without much fur. Needless to say, humans aren’t native to this realm—another universe operating on entirely different principles, really. Humans evolved alone—for they were the only sentients to be found—on a world without magic or Celestia and Luna raising the sun and the moon.

“Because humans did not possess the innate magics of pegasi, unicorns, or earth ponies, and bereft of things such as claws or tails, they had to rely on ingenuity to survive. They created tools to fend off predators, and hunt prey animals. If an environment proved inhospitable, they would find ways to change them in order to do so, such as building shelter, or agriculture. I could go on and on about the evolutionary path of humans, but that would be straying from my point. Needless to say, they are very advanced technology-wise.

“My story starts one day, almost a year ago, when I received a perplexing communique from a unicorn of this world. She claimed to wish to partake in a cultural exchange of sorts through switching places. Ideally, her spell should have placed me here in Equestria while she would appear in my world, but it misfired, instead stranding me in her body on my world, and her in Equestria in mine. Needless to say, my family was not the most understanding on the issue.”

I watch contentedly as the implications of a trans-dimensional spell sinks into her pretty little head. No, really! Ice Blossom is a really pretty mare, and I’m not just saying that. Her mane is a beautiful frost-blue that perfectly offsets her snow-white coat, and is styled not unlike Princess Luna’s before the regent regained her power.

“Over the next day or so, a great number of misfortunes befell me—none more dire than a head injury that managed to activate a rather unfortunate unicornian biomagical process. Memories and a voice that were not my own began to seep into my head. My mind was being overwritten.

“Meanwhile, in Equestria, my host was living it up in my body. She was having such a great time partying and becoming intoxicated that she very well near had my form gelded. After all, she was unused to the different brain chemistry of my male, human body. But for the fact that a very important pony stuck her neck out for both me and my host, I’d still be male today, if not—sadly—a eunuch. Instead, a spell was cast on my human body to make it female.”

I watch Blossom’s heterochromic eyes flick away in disgust at hearing what Lyra had gotten up to. In her grassy-green left eye, I recognize condemnation, while in the yellow right I see only pity. Part of my imagination insists that she yearns to say something along the lines of how dreadful that must be.

Before continuing, I shoot her a knowing smile. “Upon hearing about my condition, my host contacted the very unicorn who prevented the gelding for guidance. She quickly set out attempting to find some way to bring me to Equestria in order to attempt to prevent my mind from being replaced. Not a day later, the unicorn and another friend showed up in my world to bring me to Equestria.

“Everypony likes to think that their first days in Equestria were happy days for all; mine were anything but.” I look down, away from the earth pony before me. “I mean yeah, I saved a filly’s life, went to a spa, and had a Welcome-to-Equestria from the town’s resident party-pony, but that same day, just as much bad occurred all on that one day.

“My host’s body had just entered estrus, making things awkward enough for me, but as the day went on, I noticed my body—the one being occupied by the pony that caused all this—was changing at a terrifying rate. There was nothing to be done, sadly. My human body could not handle all of Equestria’s ambient magic, and all the magic it had been exposed to instigated an irreversible process.

“To make the situation worse, I was foolish enough to allow myself to become intoxicated at the party.” I can feel my cheeks burning at that memory. “In my drunken stupor, I did some... things that my sober self simply could not cope with the next morning. It must be said that my mental state at this point was incredibly fragile.”

“What happened?” Blossom can’t help but ask. It’s kind of amusing just how interested in my story she is. Would it be that interesting to other ponies? Hmm... That’s something to look into. No! I’ve got a story to tell right now, never mind writing about it.

“Something really stupid that couldn’t have been prevented happened—something my fragile mind insisted I could have prevented given my proximity.” I look up at her sadly. “Thinking about it now, maybe in saving a filly the previous day had instilled a bit of hero syndrome in me, and part of me wanted to save somepony else. It took me until just recently to realize how stupid I was about it all.

“When I failed, something inside me broke. I became angry and paranoid of the ponies trying to help me. It got to the point where I said some really horrible things before jumping out a window and running off into the night. Can you believe I was convinced that the unicorn trying to help me had been replaced by a changeling?” With a self deprecating laugh, I look away from her again.“The next day, I showed up in the middle of town, and publicly challenged the unicorn to a duel. By all rights, I should have been creamed right from the beginning, but in my hysterical fervor I fought like a mare possessed.

“I very nearly killed the mare... and that sick, broken part of me believed it would have been the right thing to do,” I whimper, unable to keep tears from my eyes. My crowning moment of awesome in defeating Twilight Sparkle in battle, something I should by all rights be proud of is forever tainted by the fact that I accomplished it all with the intent to kill. “If not for convenient royal intervention, I very well could have become some sort of monster.”

Much to my surprise, Ice Blossom lopes off of her bed and before I can even react, she pulls me into a hug. “Bakemono ja nai! You’re not a monster,” she whispers gently into my ear. “I know that now.”

There’s something incredibly funny about hearing Japanese—sorry, Neighponese—after being away from it for so long. It reminds me of the small things I really missed from back home. I can’t help but start giggling, and she is quick to join me. Returning her hug, I softly speak into her ear. “Thank you for listening to my story—and believing me—Ice Blossom. There aren’t many ponies who haven’t already been aware of my situation who have heard this story. Do you still plan on leaving Sagittarius Hall?”

She shakes her head, which in this position feels suspiciously like nuzzling. “No... I understand now that you are just different because of where you’re from.” Pulling away, she graces me with the most radiant smile I’ve ever seen. “We are similar in that sense.”

Just when I think things are working out, however, the door creaks open and in trots a unicorn bearing a striking resemblance to a certain famous DJ pony. “Whoa, Icy! Don’t panic, but the Mare of Thrace has invaded our room and is right in front of you!” the mare exclaims in a panicked, if not overly dramatic. Her horn begins glowing, and a low sound begins filling my ears. “I’ve got this! You get to safety!”

Backing away from Ice Blossom, I frown as the tone increases in bass and intensity. This cannot be fucking happening. I am not about to get bass-blasted by some Vinyl Scratch wannabe simply for making a friend, am I? Is fate really so cruel?

“Chill Beat, stop! Stop!” Ice Blossom shouted frantically. “She is harmless!”

The unicorn doesn’t listen at all. Instead, the bass tone peaks before a concussive force slams into me. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me...” I moan as I tumble off into the wall. The last thing I see before I black out completely is the earth pony shouting at the unicorn. “Worst... character introduction... ever...”

Author's Notes:

Sorry about the extra week delay for this chapter. I'm not making any excuses for why it is late.

What I will do is explain why I am a terrible person, however. There came a certain point in this chapter where I became of unsure how to approach things. I had a vague idea of what I was going to do, but not how to do it. Specifically, how Silver would approach Ice Blossom. God, that scene played out in so many different ways inside my head. There was even a stun-gun in one instance for crying out loud. She just opens the door, sees Silver, and Bzaaap. But then it kind of felt like it wasn't the way I wanted to portray her. So then I thought maybe an over-protective roommate [or sibling?] could do something instead. Needless to say, the 'Worst character introduction' meta line didn't always exist in my head. It just sorta happened.

Compounding the issue with motivating myself to write that scene was the fact that I foolishly got myself back into an MMORPG that I played for a while. Don't get me wrong, Star Trek Online is a great game, but they've added so much new shit since I last played. At least I was half-way through the Captain rank on my Federation toon [I can't believe I just used that word] when I stopped playing. Soon enough I'll be into all the end-game stuff. That's only over the last four days though, so it's not like I've been doing it for an entire week, thus not at all excusable for my delays.

Of course, I can't forget to thank NightmareKnight and E3gner for their editing jobs. Good lord I did terrible in my own cursory glance this time.