Title:           Hecate and the Legend of the Mango King part 2
Author:          Anonymous
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/PL2mQM4U
First Edit:      Sunday 15th of September 2013 07:45:03 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Sunday 15th of September 2013 07:45:03 PM CDT

Hecate and the Legend of the Mango King
p2
 
 
>You leave the curious bat pony mare to snooze in your living room, and wander up through the maze of awkward corridors and strangely proportioned staircases to the top level of your house.
>This place was, of course, built for ponies, and you're very lucky it even has stairs at all, considering the fact that everyone here can fly.
>Most of the purpose built bat pony housing blocks have none at all, and resemble big, black bee hives cut into the rock.
>Your current residence was a throwback, to the post-Nightmare era in which her scattered armies of minotaurs and other terrestrial horrors began to regroup, and thus needed housing to suit their purpose.
>At least, that's what the guy who sold it to you told you.
>In a society that's only just invented the printing press, historical accuracy is often a floating target.
>You find that ponies will often simply repeat narratives that are to you, a creature of the information age, clearly fantastical legends designed to be told to small children at bedtime as if they were inalienable fact.
>The top level of the house is half open to the sky, which suits you fine, considering the climate.
>Hollow Shades is a sweltering, humid place at the best of times, especially during the day.
>You greet the dawn with another bottle of mango beer, lying back in a deckchair you made out of a collection of old packing crates and letting the warm rays enliven your body.
>Most of your possessions are like this; found or made items.
>Working sporadically, and usually seasonally, you have to make do with the scant bits you can acquire doing manual labour.
>When you arrived, you rather thought that your size or the fact that you had hands might grant you a blessed status amongst the Equestrians.
>Alas, you are anything but.
>Those jobs that require dexterity are usually performed by unicorns, who by dint of magical destiny almost always find themselves as watchmakers, or jewellers, where their telekinesis can manipulate things at a scale invisible to the naked eye.
>You're also far less strong than even an earth pony mare; and like the unicorns they will always be placed in roles that best suit their genetics.
>Farm ponies will also always have massive families, and therefore rarely need an extra hand except during the harvest.
>Even when you occasionally have some use to someone, for instance, with your patchwork knowledge of science and technology far beyond them, they'll find some excuse to not hire you, or run you out of town altogether.
>That or the Dunning-Kruger effect will kick in, and you'll sell yourself as an expert in macro-agriculture, only to find you don't know the first thing about it.
>It's a bit disgusting, really, but xenophobia is a trait common to all sentient species, or so it seems.
>Currently, you're working the day shift at a minotaur butcher's shop.
>They took you on, ironically, because you're not a pony.
>There aren't many minotaurs in the city at this time of the year, and they were short staffed.
>Minotaurs are an okay bunch of people, once you get to know them.
>They're just very traditional, and get offended easily.
>By basically everything.
>They're also about eight foot tall, pure carnivores, and generally have no inside voice.
>Even the bat ponies who eat meat, and they're a minority, keep away from them, preferring to eat fish and insects.
>You wonder for a moment why Hecate was fine gulping down that steak without even batting an eyelid.
>Hunger can do strange things to a mind, though.
>You painfully recall some of the more unpleasant things you ate whilst living rough.
>The bins behind takeaway shops would resemble the vaunted feasts of ancient kings; you would have fought armies of Viking warriors for but a mouthful.
>You shudder despite the morning warmth, and finish off the breakfast beer.
>Old habits die hard.
>You dress in the vestments of your trade, a grubby white apron covered in blood, tied around the back.
>Sized to fit a minotaur, it requires several loops of the ties around your back before it's securely fastened.
>As you wander back down through the living room, you ponder if your place will be safe with your new house guest.
>Then you realise that she could have stolen anything she wanted to without even alerting you, and anyway, you have nothing worth stealing.
>Oddly, you feel very much more alive this morning, especially on seeing Hecate's sleeping form again.
>These last months in Equestria have been grim to say the least.
>You can't remember ever being so happy.
>The alleyway outside is horribly muggy, and getting hotter with every moment of daylight.
>Regardless, there is a merry spring in your step as you trace the route to work.