- >“A-N-O-N! What does it spell? Anon!”
- >She's outside again.
- >“2, 4, 6, 8, who do bats appreciate? Anonymous! Anonymous!”
- >She's flinging around her limbs like it's her talent or something.
- >...Oh wait, it /is/ her talent.
- >As you walk away from the window tutting, Pom Pom looks upset.
- >Knocking on the window, she presses her face against the glass.
- >...What?
- >You open the window, and she 'falls' in.
- >Tapping your foot, you fold your arms and look at the silly batpony.
- “You could always try the door next time.”
- >She looks up to you with a small genuine smile and nervously giggles.
- >Kind of cute.
- >Not cute enough for you to forgive her though.
- >“Didn't you like my routine? I put a lot of effort into the costume...”
- >Her little skirt has frills on it matching the colour of her pompoms and her shirt has a picture of your face stamped in the middle of it.
- >Your visage is a work of art, obviously.
- “I'd probably like it more if you didn't perform a new one every single day.”
- >For a split-second a piercing squeak fills the land.
- >Her eyes seem to be filling up with liquid.
- >...This wasn't your intention.
- >“Why don't you like them?!”
- >Sigh.
- >You would tell her but she'll never stop harassing you if you tell her.
- “Because. They're too... samey.”
- >Her usually happy-go-lucky demeanour is reduced to a saddy-go-unfortunate.
- >“S... samey?”
- >Oh god.
- >You're killing this bat.
- “N-no, that's not what I meant.”
- >She turns away from you, head drooped to the floor.
- >“No, it's fine... I'll just... go practise some more.”
- >The mare's voice turns soft and as delicate as a feather, unlike her usual confident self.
- >...And now you feel awful.
- >As she trots over to the window again, you realise why she came in through there.
- >“Oof!”
- >She's blind.
- “You okay?”
- >She nods, then walks away slowly.
- >You'll have to make it up to her.
- >What to do though?
- >You ponder this for a moment when you notice that the poor girl hasn't even taken her pompoms back.
- >As you're about to pick them up, instead you get an idea.
- >Something that she's sure to like.
- >You can't believe Anon said that.
- >It shocked you to no end.
- >Perhaps it's time to give it all up.
- >Scanning the room with an infrasonic pulse, you see your cheerleading gear down on the floor.
- >...Your pompoms are already gone.
- >You've lost them.
- >Maybe that's big ol' fate, just telling you it's time to hang up your boots.
- >While you're leaning down to pick up the skirt and shirt you made for Anon, you hear a rustling noise outside.
- >Opening the window, you fly to the ground quickly and sense something's there.
- >Sending out another pulse you see Anon standing there, with your pompoms.
- >He's got a skin-tight vest on and some shorts.
- >“Who does Anon think is great? Pom Pom, pony, she's not to hate!”
- >Flailing his arms around, your friend tries his best to cheerlead.
- >He's hopeless at it!
- >“When Anonymous is down, Pom Pom's there to cure his frown!”
- >This is too good.
- >Despite your best efforts not to, you fall over onto the grass in hysterics.
- >“Who's our favour- Hey!”
- >You can't stop yourself, not even to talk to the human.
- “I- I just- Bahahaha!”
- >He's standing over you now, hands on hips.
- >“My dance routine is better than yours.”
- >Oh, he's got no idea who he's talking to.
- “You don't have wings, ground boy.”
- >Zipping up, you do a miraculous display you'd been practising all year round for the jousting competitions.
- >Your forelegs are graceful and streamlined compared to Anon's awkward jerks.
- >
- >Flying to the floor, you see him trying to mimic you.
- >His arms are tied together.
- >“...I don't know how this happened.”
- >You try your best to stifle it...
- >“I swear.”
- “HAHAHAHA!”
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