>You finally find your way home just before five; missing the afternoon traffic completely.
>Neither your aunt nor your uncle seem to have been as lucky though; because you’re the only one in the house.
>You duck into the kitchen and grab a glass of water before plopping on the couch and relaxing for a bit. 
>You turn the television on as you take a sip. You swear on your life you will never get used to this city water. 
>Doesn’t matter what channel you go to; all that’s on is news about these ponies, so you find yourself watching the news again.
>You soon learn that these ponies come with horns and wings too, but after that the news lady goes back to repeating what you already heard outside and your attentions slips into daydreams.
>At least until you’re brought back down to Earth by the words ‘address to the nation’
>Your attention shifts to the television nearly immediately as the station informs all of their dear viewers about the impending speech, and how they are now going ‘live at the White House’.
>As the view switches to a camera with 100% Barack Obama in the shot you notice something immediately.
>The President is standing behind his typical speech giving podium, but that’s not what catches your eye.
>What catches your eye is the fact that he’s flanked by two of the horn bearing ponies. One with purple hair and skin; the other with white/cream skin and you don’t even know what the fuck is going on with her hair.  
>You say 'her' because these two certainly look feminine. 
>The cream one is much larger than the purple one, and the crazy hair cream horse has wings as well as a horn; she looks like a leader.
>How did we orchestrate a meeting between the president and what looks to be their leader in two fucking hours?
>Hmm.
>Goddamned FBI.
>But back to the horn and wings. Isn’t that a bit unfair that they can have both even if she looks to be a leader?
>You dismiss the thought. It’s just a horn not like it can do anything; it’s probably just for show. 
>”My fellow Americans, and indeed citizens of the world...”
>Oh wait a minute.
>You hate speeches.
>You absolutely do not want to intently listen to some political speech no matter what ramifications it will probably have on your life. 
>So you treat it just like a book you don’t want to read.
>You skim.
>By the time he finally finishes up you’ve deduced three main points from the speech.
>1.) These ponies have human level intelligence, and as such will be defined as legal persons under the law henceforth.
>2.) Statists are probably getting a massive raging erection from all this executive power that Obama is pulling with declaring an entire new race legal persons without the consent of Congress; even if he is citing ‘special circumstances’. 
>3.) This is a global phenomenon and the creatures have landed everywhere from East Asia to Sub-Saharan Africa. 
>You don’t envy the situation of the Sub-Saharan Africa ponies.
>Poor sods.
>While musing about the ill fate of said ponies you lose track of what’s happening on the television and by the time you look back you see that the cream colored pony stepping down from the mic.
>She was talking?
>Fuck it was probably important.
>Oh well there will probably be a video up on the internet soon.
>As the television switches back to the newsroom you softly push the power button and lay back and close your eyes on the couch.
>Soft breeze, soft couch, soft sobs, ah what a good day.
>Wait.
>Sobs?
>Your eyes shoot open and you listen more intently than you did before as you sit up on the couch.
>Yeah those are sobs. How could you miss them before?
>You blame the television.
>Obama and his huge mouth.
>Those sobs though... they sound muffled. 
>The sounds seem like they’re having to travel through a few walls or so.
>You stand up and start checking rooms. 
>Main level is clear.
>Second floor is clear.
>That leaves the basement.
>You sneak down the stairs turning the lights on in each room as you go.
>Your aunt and uncle have a really nice house, so there are quite a few rooms in the basement. Hell, there’s even a bedroom down here, and it’s yours.
>So you decide to slip in there first. 
>Nothing, but you snag your knife from your drawer just in case.
>You check the living room down here, but it’s in the same state you left it in this morning; just like your room. 
>You’re looking around, visibly stumped, when you notice the exercise room’s door is ajar.
>You get enough exercise from biking around the city. You never use that room, and as such the door is always closed.
>Gotcha 
>You’re really kind of unsure how to confront a crying person who broke into your uncle’s house so you do what comes to mind first.
>You knock on the door.
>You hear a squeak and the door opens further as a result of your knock. 
>Enough to see what’s inside.
>Well, there’s certainly sobbing, so your ears were spot on.
>But it’s not a person.
>Laying by a treadmill, there’s a small creature that you’re assuming to be one of those ponies.
>But this one looks different.
>Somewhat leathery wings, terrified demeanor, scrapes cuts and burns.
>And shrunken slit pupils making fearful glances between your face and your hand.
>Your knife hand.
>With care you begin to try to communicate.
”Hey there ugh... are you okay?”
>Those eyes break contact with your knife and make contact with your own eyes.
>She opens her mouth to speak, but chokes on her own words and begins crying anew.
>She’s completely scared out of her wits, and with good reason; you absolutely tower over her.
>You decide to put the knife down and slowly approach her.
>”W-what are you?”
>Wow her voice is soft.
”I’m a person. And shouldn’t I be asking the questions like why you’re all burnt up? I mean this is my house you broke into.”
>A look of guilt comes across her face and she merely mumbles something about ‘the sun’, 'bat pony', and 'I'm sorry'.
>Bat pony? Are you shitting me? What’s next? Tiger ponies? Gorilla ponies?
>You’re a bit flabbergasted about how ludicrous this all still is, but decide to can it for now in favor of getting her treated for those burns.
>Still though, a talking fucking horse. In your goddamn house.
>Okay aunt and uncle’s, but still. 
>She’s watching you intently as you have your internal monologue.
>You realize that despite already essentially forgiving her in your head you didn’t actually vocalize it, and she’s probably going through all the ways that you could not forgive her; like throwing her out back into the sun.
>That would explain the color slowly draining from her face.
”Hey don’t worry about it; I didn’t exactly hear everything you said, but I’m assuming that you can’t go out into the sun or you get burned?”
>She nods obediently as you see color coming back to her dark grey face again.
”What’s your name?” you try to sound as comforting as you can as you speak.
>”E-echo, yours?”
”Anon.”
>”Well ugh, n-nice to meet you A-anon.”
”Hey Echo, I’m something of an aspiring doctor; you want me to see what I can do about those burns?”
>”Really? You’d do that? After I broke into your house?..”
>You simply smile, and she gives a gracious look back.
>That’s all the confirmation you need to duck back into your room and get yours bag of medical supplies.
>And it’s true that you want to be a doctor.
>You just haven’t done any of the courses.
>Or done much study other than reading Wikipedia.
>Whatever, you don’t need extensive medical experience to pour some cold water on her then put some cream and gauze on.
>As you enter the room a couple minutes later with your supplies you’re surprised by what you find.
>She has mellowed out on the cold tiles and is, from the looks of it, almost asleep.
>You sit beside her and begin tending to her burns.
>Just how long does she plan on staying here?
>You dunno; guess that’s up to your uncle to decide.
>You wouldn’t mind someone to talk with every now and again, and it would increase your friend count to a whopping two sentient creatures.
>You start drying the cold water off of her and bandaging the cuts and scrapes.
>”Anon, why are you being so nice to me?”
>She seems genuinely confused when she asks; were others not nice to her back from wherever these things came from? Why wouldn’t they be? 
>Your curiosity plagues you, but you decide that asking a tired burnt up pony would probably be rude so you just go with small talk.
”Why wouldn’t I be nice? You’re probably a hell of a lot more confused than I am.”
>”Oh. Well... T-thanks, for doing this, I mean...” You can sense a tinge of embarrassment on your end as she nods off while you finish tending to her cuts.
>So she gets transported into a new world, and then falls asleep three hours into the experience?
>You’ve got a feeling like you’re going to like this little narcoleptic bat-horse.
>The sound of a car door slamming accompanied by the house door opening reminds you that it’s not really your choice if she stays here or not.
>You’re hoping your uncle takes a liking to her; maybe she’ll remind him of his daughter?
>Hopefully.