Writer's note: There is absolutely nothing even remotely comfy in this piece. Semi-sad is the main tone.
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>Easing your way around the lush plant life, you glance up at a break in the canopy, wordlessly judging the dreary sky.
>As the first few drops of rain sprinkle down, you swear quietly.
>There was no mention of rain today. Cloudy, yes, but not rain.
>What a drag.
>To affirm your thoughts, a quick check of your phone brings up...
>Nothing.
>Two words blare out from the top of the screen: No Signal
>You purse your lips, mouthing a few choice words to your wireless carrier.
>You don't exactly live in the sticks, yet your connection is consistently shoddy at best.
>No matter. A little water never stopped you.
>Pocketing your phone, you continue on your moderate trek through the section of forest surrounding your home.
>You can't be fucked taking the long route just because there's a paved road weaving about, so you've resorted to cutting through the woods in an effort to save time.
>It was a little unnerving the first several trips, but you've since adjusted. Now you look forward to the quiet excursions as a brief period where you're the only person in existence.
>Your shoes make light indents into the dirt as you walk, leaving a trail of disturbed earth in your wake.
>From what you can hear, the rain has evolved beyond light drizzling but the treetop serves you well, shielding the surroundings from the brunt of it.
>The minutes tick by, and eventually you near the tree-line...
>...And pause.
>Even from this distance you can tell something is off.
>The background currently blocked by trees isn't the sight you've gotten used to over the last month.
>You pick up the pace, somewhat confused with the new development.
>You definitely didn't get lost. You took the same route as always, using the same landmarks as always.
>As the density of trees eases up, you're treated to the full force of nature, your already damp clothes hastily soaking up the rain.
>You barely notice it, instead staring out at the world beyond.
>...
>There's no town here.
>What the fuck?
>The small, homely buildings you've grown used to have been replaced by sprawling hills flush with green, a large contrast to the never-ending dirt in the forest.
>You look left and right, trying to see if you were mistaken and yes, you did happen to take a wrong turn even though you technically didn't make any turns.
>Nothing... and...
>There!
>Out in the distance below your current position is your destination.
>...Or not.
>Your relief dies just as quickly as it appeared.
>The layout doesn't ring a bell at all; not to mention there's a few structures you don't recognize.
>Unless you've developed a severe case of selective amnesia, that clock tower doesn't fit. At all.
>There’s also what appears to be purple tree.
>...A /very/ large purple tree.
>This is not the town you expected. There should only be one town near your home.
>At this point you're well and truly baffled.
>Where the /hell/ are you?
>Clearly you are not qualified to answer that question.
>Time to call in a favor from an old friend: Google Maps.
>You retrieve your phone with minimal difficulty, raindrops pelting the screen as you furiously glare at the same two words from before.
>...
>You're ditching your carrier as soon as you return home.
"Piece of shit."
>You grumble to yourself as you deposit the device into your pocket, no longer caring for its health.
>You're not sure how you managed to screw up this badly, but that's of little importance.
>Your primary task is to figure out where you are and how to fix it.
>Wandering around aimlessly, fun as it sounds, is a sure-fire way to get even more lost.
>You'll pop into the small town in the distance, ask someone for directions, and be off faster than you can say "mistakes were made."
>With one last huff, you take off.
>Annoyed as you are, the rain does wonders for your mind.
>Something about this weather always puts you in a calm mood.
>Maybe it's the steady drone of drops hitting the ground, or the sensation of water running down your face and arms.
>Either way you've become less disgruntled, your thoughts drifting about as you walk.
>The temperature has turned noticeably warmer compared to the forest, the humidity rising as well.
>Not to mention you're fairly positive the rainfall has increased, turning into more of a downpour.
>None of those things are enough to dampen your spirits, although you do lament your socks getting wet.
>If you knew about this beforehand, you would've worn boots.
>The trip downhill is uneventful, your eyes trained on your destination.
>As you grow closer, however, you take in several... /interesting/ details.
>...Are those rooftops made of hay? Talk about a fire hazard.
>Not to mention the size of the buildings. Most are multi-story, yet somehow they feel... smaller than expected.
>Have you stumbled across an Amish community? Do the Amish even use hay for--
>"HEY!!!"
>Recognizing the universal cry for attention, you immediately slow down, looking around on the off-chance someone is calling you.
>You can't pinpoint where the voice came from, and your short search turns up nothing.
>Guess it wasn't for you.
>Shrugging, you barely cover a few steps before the voice rings out again.
>"UP HERE!"
>At this point your gait doesn't falter one bit as you allow yourself a curt glance upwards out of habit, eyes squinting to guard against any stray raindrops.
>A pointless endeavor, considering there's nothing above you aside from clouds.
>...Maybe it's just your imagination, but you swear those clouds appear a lot lower than they're supposed to be.
>"IN. THE. CLOUDS!!!"
>Man, he/she sounds pissed.
>You can't help it. You know it's not directed at you but you're curious to see what the hell they're talking about.
>Another look upwards yields nothing of interest aside from more cumulonimbus clouds and heavy rain.
>...Although off to your right, thanks to their unusually low altitude you can make out a small break in them, revealing the bright sky beyond.
>That's pretty cool.
>"/FINALLY/!"
>You pause mid-stride, frowning a little.
>Coincidence?
>Once more you search, and once more you come up empty-handed.
>The voice is yelling, so they're not near you.
>This has to be a coincidence.
>"AREN'T YOU GUYS SUPPOSED TO HAVE GOOD-- /HEY/!!! DON'T LOOK AWAY FROM ME!"
>Yeah that settles it. It is absolutely /not/ meant for you.
>Shaking your head in amusement you resume walking, tickled over your small delay.
>Well, that's enough misunderstandings for one day. You still need directions.
>Considering the current downpour, there's a good chance you'll need to pop into a store to request assistance.
>Hopefully your sodden clothes won't get you shooed out--
>Without warning, a shapeless blur materializes directly in front of you.
>HOLY SHIT.
>You literally jump back in surprise, your blood running cold at the sudden intrusion.
>Your heart is racing a mile a minute as you realize the blur does in fact have a shape, and it's still there.
>"Are you hard of hearing!? I called out TWICE and you ignored me!"
>...
>"What're you doing here?! There aren't any gems nearby, so why don't you get LOST!"
>...
>"HELL-OOOO??? Are you even /listening/?! I'm being /soaked/ right now so you... better..."
>...
>......
>You hear the words, but you're not listening.
>Instead, wet hands reach up to rub your eyes, hoping to rid yourself of this peculiar sight.
>...
>Nope.
>It's still there.
>This... /thing/.
>The first definition that comes to mind is "horse".
>Thing is, horses aren't colored cerulean.
>Horses don't have multicolored manes.
>Horses don't have ridiculously large eyes.
>Horses don't look strangely cartoon-ish.
>Horses don't fly.
>And horses DEFINITELY don't talk.
>Yessir, horses do NOT carry any of those traits.
>Yet as you look at the strange creature hovering in front of you, 'flying horse" is the only way to properly describe it.
>...
>You rub your eyes again.
>It's still there.
>The flying horse is currently regarding you with an expression of pure, unadulterated bewilderment.
>Horses cannot be that expressive.
>You're positive you can one-up it.
>Are you dreaming right now? Hallucinating?
>It has to be one or the other. There's no possible explanation aside from those two.
>The flying horse unfolds its crossed forelegs, pointing a hoof at you.
>Horses should not be able to bend their legs like that either.
>"You don't look like a diamond dog."
>That sentence registers but does absolutely nothing to quell the raw confusion swarming your head.
>You've lucid dreamed before. Thing is, you can easily determine when you're in a dream. Everything feels... different, for lack of a better term.
>But the rain splattering against your exposed skin...
>The individual drops weaving their way down your face...
>The soaked clothes pressed against your body...
>Everything feels /very/ real.
>But this flying horse can't be real.
>Flying horses do not exist in the real world.
>"What /are/ you?"
>Your eyes focus back on the strange creature, whose bewildered expression hasn't faltered in the slightest.
>Maybe you're hallucinating.
>Eh, you don't do drugs. You're a model citizen... mostly.
>If you're hallucinating, this is one hell of an image your brain whipped up.
>You don't think you're imagining things.
>At least, you hope you're not.
>...
>Or do you?
>"Can you understand me?"
>That question is enough to halt your slowly growing uneasiness.
>You regard the creature with what you hope is a cool stare, but is probably a mixture of shock and wariness.
"What are you?"
>If it's not a hallucination, then you must be dreaming. That /has/ to be it.
>You're impressed with your ability to come up with such a vivid flying horse.
>Impossibly, the creature's eyes widen even more.
>"You can /talk/!?"
>What the hell kind of question is that? You're insulting yourself.
>You raise an eyebrow.
"Yeah... What are you?"
>"I'm a pegasus. Are you some sort of alien?"
>You learned two things from the flying horse's response.
>One: it's a pegasus. You know what a pegasus is, and probably should've made the connection sooner.
>Two: it's female. A little tomboy-ish, but undoubtedly female.
"No. I'm a human."
>Her wonderment falters for a second, nose wrinkling in puzzlement.
>"What's a human?"
>Okay, you're not going through this. All you wanted was to get directions... in a dream.
>God dammit brain, get your shit together.
>So now what?
>Ask her for directions? Maybe she knows.
>You chuckle.
"I'm a little lost. Mind telling me where Denton is?"
>"Who's that?"
"No, it's a town nearby."
>The pegasus frowns, wings steadily beating to stay airborne.
>"There aren't any towns here aside from Ponyville."
>Ponywhat?
>There's a nagging feeling stirring in you again, one you hoped would go away.
>The cerulean horse hovers over to you, making you instinctively step back.
>Once again, she raises a hoof, only this time it reaches out to you.
>To move or not to move?
>Your indecisiveness settles the dilemma as she pokes your chest, her hoof pressing into your wet shirt.
>You felt that.
>"Are you /sure/ you're not an alien? What's with the clothes?"
>Before you can respond, she flies behind you.
>In the time it takes you to turn around, she's already returned to her spot, making you do a clean three-sixty and look like an idiot.
>"Where's your tail? What's with the bag?"
"Tail? I don't have a tail."
>Your reply is met with a scrutinizing glare, water steadily dripping off the tuft of hair in front of her.
>You can feel each individual heartbeat reverberate through your chest, the sensation only furthering your unease.
>A dream. This /is/ a dream.
>"I think you're an alien."
>The delivery is deadpan, her conclusion one of upmost certainty.
>You shake your head, the pegasus comically responding with nods of her own, a grin emerging with each passing second.
>Without warning, she explodes.
>"This is /so/ COOL! I'm the first to see a real, live alien!"
>Her hooves fly up to her cheeks, eyes bulging slightly as she squeezes them.
>Is she dense?
"I'm not--"
>One moment she's freaking out a few feet away, the next she's inches away from your face.
>Understandably, you let out an involuntary noise of surprise as you stumble back, almost slipping on the slick grass.
>Her reaction is doing fuckall to quell your anxiety.
>The invasive pegasus pays no mind to your antics, leaning in eagerly.
>"Where are you from? How did you get here? Do you have a spaceship?!"
>The questions are fired one after another, giving you no chance to answer even if you wanted to.
>From this distance you can make out the color of her irises: moderate cerise.
>Such a small, insignificant detail.
>"Of COURSE you have a spaceship, how else would you travel?! What does it look like? Can I see it?!"
>At this point you raise a hand, hoping to hell the exuberant horse will stop.
>You're not doing well. Everything feels too...
"I... am /not/ an alien."
>Despite the excessive moisture outside, your throat is dry.
>Thankfully she lets up, her excitement fading as she takes in your words.
>"I only know of two species that walk on two legs, and you don't look like either."
>Her brow furrows as she ponders the new predicament, still maintaining a steady rhythm with her wings.
>You're mildly impressed she can fly in the rain. Feathers don't work too well when wet.
"Which ones?"
>"Well, first I thought you were a diamond dog, but you're not. That only leaves minotaur, but you don't have a tail!"
>...
>"What'd you say you were?... A 'human'? Never heard of it. Maybe Twilight knows, I can always ask her."
>You have no idea what the hell a diamond dog is, but you're quite familiar with minotaurs.
>Straight from Greek mythology, the important thing to note is they /don't exist/.
>Yet this flying horse... this /pegasus/-- ALSO straight from Greek mythology-- compared you to one.
>You've become more aware of the rainfall and its low din, equivalent to a hum.
>The pegasus in front of you is still wrapped up in her own thoughts as wet fingers fumble inside your pocket, eventually retrieving their prize.
>A slight press of your thumb, and you're once again gazing at the lock screen.
>No Signal.
>You idiotically attempt to wipe away the water lining the top, observing the deformed picture thanks to the thin layer of moisture.
>With a few effortless movements you're treated to the main menu, all your apps available at your fingertips.
>...
>"Woah! What's /that/?"
>The pegasus has taken to your side, staring at your unlocked phone in amazement.
>You don't know when she got there and at this point you don't care.
>Quietly, you slip the device back inside your pocket.
>A dream.
>"Can I see it? I promise I won't break it!"
>Words that barely reach you.
>Your head turns to and fro, looking around at the dim landscape.
>Grass.
>Hills.
>A town you've never seen before.
>...
>You look back to the pegasus.
>"Just one--"
"Where am I."
>Three short words are enough to make your heart-rate rise, reaching levels best suited to strenuous activity.
>Even though this is a dream.
>All because you're acknowledging a possibility.
>The flying horse ceases her begging in favor of a large smile.
>"Welcome to Equestria!"
>She spreads her forelegs wide in a grand gesture you know for a FACT horses can't do.
>...
>One last thing.
>You pry your hands from your sides, balling them into fists as you bring them up in front of you.
>One.
>One finger is raised.
>Two.
>Another finger rises.
>...
>Three.
>A third.
>...
>Focus Anon.
>Four.
>...
>Five.
>Your open hand is an unsteady mess.
>Breath.
>Six.
>/Focus/.
>...
>Seven.
>"What're you doing?"
>You're vaguely aware of how shallow your breathing has become.
>A bad thing, considering your heart-rate has kicked into overdrive.
>Stop.
>Your legs aren't faring too well either, and you roughly drop to sit on the ground.
>The world is spinning.
>You have to focus, Anon.
>Breath.
>Focus.
>You're not going insane.
>You can't.
>...
>The pegasus.
>The rain.
>This grass.
>Everything feels /real/.
>But it can't be.
>This can't be.
>You're having difficulty breathing.
>/Focus/.
>Calm down.
>Calm down.
>Calm. Down.
>...
>Not working.
>You're losing it.
>If this was a dream, you'd have woken up by now.
>You're trying.
>God knows you're trying to get a grip on reality.
>But it's hard.
>No one told you maintaining your sanity would be this hard.
>Then again, no one has ever had everything they knew turned upside down.
>So many what-ifs.
>It's easy to say they'd be cool as a cucumber.
>Easier said than done.
>Every time you try to rationalize your current predicament, another part of you points out exactly why it cannot be.
>Except it clearly IS.
>A lifetime of imprinted knowledge does not simply vanish on the wind, and you're paying the ultimate price.
>Who would've guessed you'd have a hands-on experience in going insane?
>Not you.
>You give a few more pathetic callouts to your brain in hopes that it'll have a change of heart, but it's not budging.
>Fuck.
>In the midst of your meltdown, you become aware of something touching your knee.
>Can't be your hands, they're too busy being pressed against your face.
>You pry your fingers open, staring down at the culprit.
>A pale cerulean hoof rests against you, owner unseen.
>That is, until a face slides into view.
>Nope.
>You hastily cover your eyes once more.
>You're stuck between a rock and a hard place, but at least you're well acquainted with the rock despite its very recent renovation.
>Admit it Anon.
>You knew.
>You knew something was off. Denial works but for so long.
>This is real.
>This /can't/ be real.
>It's OBVIOUSLY REAL.
>But it can't be. These things shouldn't exist.
>You can't accept it.
>No matter how hard you try, you can't wrap your head around it.
>You.
>Are.
>Losing it.
>It hurts.
>Your head hurts.
>You're suffocating.
>Feels like you're about to explode.
>You want it to stop.
>You want out.
>There's pressure on your shoulder.
>You don't care.
>You're doing your best to scrounge up enough sense to focus, but it's tough work.
>Every available thought is rerouted to the same instruction: Panic
>Start small.
>Open your eyes.
>Do it, Anon.
>With herculean effort, you force your eyelids up, sliding your hands to the sides of your head.
>Oh right, it's still raining.
>Next up is breathing. Less erratic, more controlled.
>Before you can attempt so, a rainbow-maned head pops into view.
>Not real.
>Goddammit.
>Go away. You want to fall apart in solitude.
>"Are you okay?"
>You almost miss it.
>Such a rhetorical question.
>You are not okay.
>You are as far away from "okay" as anyone can possibly get.
>That piece of self-reflection is enough to annoy you.
>Before, you were staring at your waterlogged surroundings, paying little mind to the oddly-proportioned mythical creature near you.
>Now you give it due attention, arguably a very bad idea considering your current mental stability.
>...
>It looks worried.
>Concerned, even. Mixed in with a hint of apprehension.
>Horses cannot look concerned.
>"What's wrong?"
>It's only now that you realize it... no, /she/ has long since stopped flying, taking a seat somewhat close to you.
"Everything."
>The word departs with little resistance, a faint whisper nearly lost in the steady hum of rain.
>Your response was automatic, a simple answer to an impossibly complex question.
>You don't care who-- or /what/-- said it.
>You saw a potential lifeline and desperately clung to it.
>The pegasus wilts at your lackluster reply, grimacing a bit.
>"Oh-kayyy... Well... Can you be more specific?"
>Jesus Christ, where to start?
>You don't know where you are. You're talking to a pegasus.
>...
>Actually, those are the only two issues at hand but holy shit they are a /doozy/.
>Your hands unsteadily make their way to the back of your neck, offering a poor massage.
"I..."
>Your voice is hoarse despite the low volume.
"I... Where am I."
>A name was mentioned before but flew in one ear and out the other.
>"Equestria. I'm guessing you've never heard of it, y'know, since you're an alien."
"I'm /not/ an alien."
>Your thoughts come to life, spoken more in assurance to yourself rather than the pegasus.
>/She/ is the outlier. /She/ is the odd one out.
>Her nose wrinkles as she adopts a dubious look.
>"Then where are you from?"
>A simple question.
"Lynchburg."
>A blank face is your only response.
>Please.
"North America?"
>A short shake of her head.
>This isn't helping. At all.
>You croak out one last question.
"Earth?"
>"As in Earth Ponies?"
>...
>Your hands return to your face, sliding against the built-up moisture.
>Every time you think you've composed yourself, something else hits you over the head and sets you back to square one.
>"If you're lost, I'm sure we can figure something out."
>Her naiveté is more aggravating than touching.
>She has no idea what's wrong.
"This... none of this should be real."
>You don't know who you're talking to.
"Flying horses do /not/ exist. I... don't know where I /am/."
>You're slipping now, your voice wavering.
>Each line spoken strikes deep, further pushing you to the point of no return.
"...I don't know. I'm losing it. I'm fucking LOSING IT."
>Any chance of pulling yourself together died with that declaration.
>Everything hurts.
>Your head wants to explode.
>You feel sick.
>You don't know what to do.
>You don't know what will happen.
>You want it to stop but you don't know how.
>You're completely and utterly helpless.
>...
>......
>It takes far too long to register the face near you.
>All you know is that's a face, emotion unknown.
>You're in no condition to process anything else.
>You think something is being said.
>Who cares.
>...
>You thought nothing could possibly break you from this newfound hell.
>Naturally you were dead wrong.
>Your brain goes on the fritz as an unexpected jostling puts your meltdown on pause, if just for a moment.
>With a sniff, you properly view the perpetrator, confused and still on tenterhooks.
>Hoof still resting on your shoulder, the pegasus eyes you warily.
>Beneath that, however, is obvious concern.
>You must look awful. Rainwater isn't the only thing sliding down your face.
>"I'm not too sure of the problem..."
>She glances away for a second.
>"...But I can help out with anything you need!"
>She finishes with a confident grin, the drenched tuft of hair blocking one of her eyes.
>Help?
>How?
>What you need is a second voice.
>Someone to bring you back to level ground and assure you're not going insane.
>You need comfort.
>This pegasus cannot provide that comfort, simply because she is part of the reason you're in such a mess.
>...
>There's really no saving you now, is there.
>With a strained sigh, you withdraw back into your personal bubble.
>Everything hurts.
>All focus is on the immense pressure building in your head.
>Any attempts to calm yourself once again come up woefully short.
>This can't be good for your health.
>You have no idea what's going to happen.
>You.
>Want.
>Out.
>The seconds lurch by, each passing moment spent in agony.
>...
>......
>"Ugh, you're really gonna make me do this?"
>The voice whines, displeased with... something.
>Although your eyes aren't covered, you pay no mind to your surroundings.
>You have no idea what the hell she's talking about.
>"Fine..."
>A pause.
>...
>"There... There."
>?
>"I have no idea what's wrong since you're barely making any sense, but... uh, everything will /probably/ be okay. I think. I hope... UGH, I'm not good at this, /okay/?!"
>The sudden switch from strained softness to exasperation catches you off guard.
>Straining to pinpoint the source, you discover that the pegasus is no longer parked facing you. In fact, you can't see her at all.
>A small turn of your head remedies that.
>The flying horse has taken to your side, the distance between best suited for close friends.
>It's only now that you take in the height difference, her sodden head slightly above yours.
>Speaking of, her head faces forward as she grumbles to herself.
>"I bet Fluttershy would know what to do. 'Oh don't cry, Mr. Alien. Here's a hug because I like to hug everything! Now turn that frown upside down and--'"
>Her falsetto impression comes to a screeching halt when she turns to you, eyes going wide in surprise.
>"Oh! You're awake! I was, um..."
>The pegasus lets out a shaky bark of laughter, looking away briefly.
>"Yeah, I got nothin'."
>...
>Her tuft of mane is brushed aside, an eye twitching as it falls back to blocking half her view.
>Deeming it a lost cause, she refocuses on you.
>"Look, obviously something is wrong since you've been sitting here all emotional-like for the past... long enough. But come on, is crying about it going to change anything?"
>At this point you've resigned to looking at the greyed sky, raindrops peppering your face.
>This one is truly oblivious.
>"I want to /help you/, but OBVIOUSLY I CAN'T if you don't tell me what's wrong!"
"You should not /exist/."
>It takes a great deal of effort to speak. You find that not looking at the cause of your problem helps a lot.
"Flying horses are /not real/."
>You've repeated this a thousand times over, and you have a feeling you'll do so a thousand times more.
>While you can't-- and don't want to-- see your conversation partner, she sounds irked.
>"Hey, I am /not/ a 'flying horse'! I'm a pegasus and I'm here talking to you, aren't I? I exist!"
>Not the words you needed to hear.
>Silence.
>You're trying to appreciate the downpour but it's a bit difficult when your head feels stuffed.
>At the moment, it's just here.
>"...I'm guessing there aren't any pegasi where you're from?"
>FINALLY. /Now/ she gets it.
>You shake your head, the motion so tiny you're certain she missed it.
>"Oh... That's not a reason to freak out."
>What.
>You have to restrain yourself from glancing over to her in raw disbelief.
>That's it.
>She absolutely does NOT get it, and likely never will.
>Why are you even talking to her? Listening to her?
>You want her to leave.
>There was a tiny, near-imperceptible sliver of hope you had.
>'Maybe, just /maybe/, she can help you.'
>Not anymore.
>Go away winged horse. You want to suffer in peace.
>"I've never seen... whatever /you/ are before, and I'm not going crazy."
>That sounds an awful lot like an insult.
>"Hay, I thought you were awesome! Clothes, no tail, that super-cool whateveritwas you used!"
>She's getting into it.
>"Yeah, awesome!... Until, y'know, all of this."
>You can practically feel the disappointing stare burning a hole in your side.
>Huh.
>She /did/ take the meeting a little better than you did.
>...
>A whole-fucking-lot better than you.
>You grit your teeth, still wishing for something to carry her away.
"You are a /myth/. An old tale."
>Another pause.
>"Hold on, you said pegasi don't exist where you're from..."
>Gears are whirring in her brain.
>Suddenly, a lightbulb.
>"So you've heard of pegasi, but thought they weren't real?... Hate to break it to ya but that's a lie, in case you haven't figured it out yet."
>Annoying /and/ a smart ass.
>Maybe if you inhale enough raindrops you can drown yourself.
>That would be fantastic right about now.
>"I thought you were freaking out because you saw something new. This is even WORSE!"
>Worst. Discussion. Ever.
"Holy crap, please stop."
>Your plea falls on deaf ears, only riling up the miffed horse.
>"You already know what a pegasus is!"
>With great difficulty, you speak in a low, defeated tone.
"If you were told something is fiction... a fairy tale, and then you found out that's not the case, how would you feel?"
>"...Surprised? It'd be unexpected, but I wouldn't wail about it. It happens a lot."
>You're convinced she's purposely fucking with you.
>Your head hurts but you can't tell if it's because of her ridiculous replies or your anguish.
>You're not sure which would be better.
>"Look, so what if you were lied to? I dunno about you, but I'd be pretty excited."
>Keep at it, rain. There might be enough water in your lungs to kick the bucket.
>...
>"Sooo, am I getting anywhere with this?"
"No."
>"Oh COME ON! What'dya want me to--"
"...Yes."
>"Huh?"
"I don't know. You're annoying, but..."
>Tearing your eyes away from the concealed sky, you look over to your conversation partner.
>Her face is scrunched, a raindrop falling off the tip of her nose as her eyes burn with resentment.
>You feel a slight twang of panic welling inside of you, but it's manageable.
>A first.
>"Annoying?! I'm trying to help you!"
"Yeah, 'trying'."
>Two forelegs fly up in exasperation, the pegasus sputtering as she tries to come up with a suitable rebuttal.
>"Gah, FINE. I /QUIT/! My special talent is /not/ in playing 'therapist' to aliens!"
>Your headache is getting worse. Her voice becomes a lot more grating when she yells.
>"When you decide not to be such a bore, let me know. I'd like to skip the lame part of meeting an alien."
>You ignore her flat glare, rubbing your temples in hopes of easing the migraine.
"If you'll /let me finish/..."
>A sigh.
"I feel like shit, but I'm not breaking apart."
>"You don't look that great either."
>...
>Her expression is flat but you can tell she has no idea what you mean.
"I don't feel better--"
>There's that glare again.
"--/But/ I don't feel worse. You're annoying, but you helped... I think."
>The pegasus shifts in place, unsure of how to take your "compliment".
>"Uh... great? You can stop calling-- HEY, you mocked me for trying to help, and NOW you want to say it worked?!"
>The lull was fun while it lasted.
"Mocked? I told you the truth."
>"Sounded more like an insult to me!"
"You're trying to help, and you're /also/ annoying."
>You're not kidding, she's aggravation-incarnate. She yells a lot, which is killer on your battered brain.
>But...
>With each back-and-forth, you're reminded.
>It's not the end of the world.
>This is real.
>You know that.
>You can't change it.
>What you /can/ change is this pointless argument with a cerulean pegasus.
>Sounds crazy on paper but her constant nagging has shifted your worry elsewhere, which possibly saved you from being stuck in an endless loop.
>You can question your sanity later. Right now you have a headache to nurse and...
>Fuck.
>"I don't know where you're from, but in Equestria that's NOT how we say 'thank you Rainbow Dash!'"
>You swear raindrops are evaporating upon hitting her coat, steam rising in turn.
>Rainbowwhatnow? Doesn't matter.
"I want to go home."
>Your stomach sinks as the realization hits once again.
>You have no idea where the hell you are.
>Not on Earth, that's for sure.
>"Pshh, /fine/. Where's your spaceship?"
>How many times must you say it???
"I don't have a spaceship... Why the /hell/ do you think that???"
>There's some serious skepticism adorning her face.
>"Because you're an alien! You HAVE to have a spaceship, how /else/ would you get here?"
>A hand slides down your face, getting rainwater into one of your eyes.
"I'm. Not. An alien. I don't know how I got here. I was walking through the woods and came out wherever the fuck this is."
>The pegasus frowns.
>"Whitetail Woods has always been there. You're not making any sense... again."
"I was walking through /my/ woods, the forest next to my house."
>A few seconds of silence follows, eventually marred not by words, but the low drum of thunder.
>You'd be more concerned if you cared.
>"...Let me get this straight: you walked through /your/ woods and ended up in Whitetail Woods?"
>You're going to take a wild guess and assume 'Whitetail Woods' is where you came out from.
"Apparently? I don't fucking know."
>"But... but..."
>Her brain is short-circuiting now, two and two failing to become four.
>"How?! That doesn't make any sense!"
"FINALLY."
>You cringe a bit as your head protests the outburst, but it was needed.
>NOTHING makes sense right now.
>Except you.
>You're still you.
>...You hope.
>"I flew over it earlier while setting up the weather, and there weren't any signs of a house... Are you lying?"
>Wow.
>Taking a moment to collect yourself, you proceed to speak slowly, enunciating each word so it'll sink in just how /stupid/ that question was.
"/Why/ would I lie about that. I do /not/ want to be here. I. Want. To go. /Home/."
>Your voice cracks towards the end but you're positive the message is clear.
>You want out.
>Another period of relative silence follows, the pegasus quietly observing you.
>You have no idea what she's thinking.
>She cranes her neck to look behind you, eyes trained on something.
>When she turns back, she's grinning.
>"If you came here through Whitetail Woods, I bet you can leave the same way."
>...
>There's a spark of tentative hope rising in your gut.
>Of course. It makes sense.
>It happened before, who's to say it won't work in reverse?
"Smart thinking."
>In all actuality it's a very simple conclusion, one you'd undoubtedly make under less strenuous circumstances.
>Still, you'll give credit where it's due.
>Now to get the hell out of here.
>With a pained grunt, you rise, head throbbing in turn. Walking is gonna be a bitch.
>The pegasus also stands, taking another futile swipe at her rainbow-esque tuft before rolling her eyes.
"Thank you... a lot."
>This migraine is torturous and you're eager to skedaddle, but you owe her proper gratitude.
>Aggravating as she was, she helped.
>The winged horse smiles.
>"Don't mention it! Today was pretty boring until you showed up. Even with all the crying and bad manners, you're still pretty cool."
>...Thanks?
>For the first time in what feels like ages, you feel the comings of a small smirk.
>You can't help it. Being so close to returning home is liberating.
"Right... Buh-bye."
>You don't wait for a response, instead turning around and starting the lengthy trek back to the woods.
>Finally.
>You'll be home soon.
>...Assuming it works.
>Don't be such a pessimist, Anon. It'll definitely work.
>You entered from the woods, you can leave from the woods.
>A hand raises once more to massage your temples as you walk, another round of rumbling thunder ringing through the landscape.
>Not a centimeter of you remains dry, the rain effortlessly penetrating your drenched clothes.
>Worst. Shower. Ever.
>You give your shoes a morose glance, now slightly more displeased with the upcoming journey.
>What a drag. Wet socks are the why is this pegasus walking with you.
>You stare at the winged horse paying no mind to your confusion.
>Her soaked winged extend, shaking out water that's replaced in the span of seconds.
>Growling quietly to herself, she speaks.
>"You're lucky you're an alien. I hate it when I can't fly."
"Why are you following me?"
>At that, she looks up, raising an eyebrow.
>"Didn't you hear me?"
"No."
>"Jeez, your sense of hearing is pretty bad. I said I'm coming along too."
>Why?
"Thanks, but I'm good. I can take it from here."
>The pegasus scoffs, earning a short-lived glare from you as your head pulses.
>"Yeah /right/. You're pretty emotional, almost as much as Fluttershy... She's a friend."
>'Emotional'? You've never been called that before. You'd never consider yourself an emotional person.
>Whether she uses it as an insult, compliment, or simple statement of fact is beyond you.
>Either way you don't like it.
>"Also I wanna see if there's a portal or whatever to your world. Imagine if I was the first to discover it! I'd be famous! Everypony would know me! My name would be remembered in history, and Twilight would be /sooo/ jealous!"
>The pegasus is riled up now, practically dancing on her hooves as she walks.
>So she's mainly accompanying you for a chance at being famous? You can live with that... as long as she keeps quiet.
>The small jaunt to the forest is uneventful. Progress is slow thanks to your headache and subpar weather conditions, but you persevere.
>Eventually grass gives way to exposed dirt, the thick canopy providing moderate cover from the elements.
>Although you haven't covered sufficient distance yet, you're still keeping a close eye out for a familiar break in the trees.
>"Cautiously optimistic" perfectly describes you right about now.
>You entered through the forest, you can leave through the forest.
>Ow, fuck. Stupid headache.
>"Where are you from?"
>Talking doesn't appeal to you, but only an idiot would've expected a conversation-free trip.
"Earth."
>"The ground?"
>You're starting to detest that look.
"Planet."
>"What's it like?"
>You groan.
"Why do you want to know?"
>"I gotta be prepared! I'm going to a whole new world, who knows what to expect? Giant pony-eating monsters, dangerous traps at every turn... oh this is gonna be awesome!"
>...
>What.
>The.
>/Hell/ is she talking about?
"You're not coming with me."
>The small horse freezes, mouth open in shock.
>You of course, make no effort to wait, keeping up your stride.
>A few seconds later, curiosity makes you check behind you.
>She's already returning to her spot beside you, eyes narrowed in displeasure.
>"Why not?"
>Why is that even a question? You're in no mood to entertain this.
"Because."
>Silence.
>"'Because' what?"
"Because I said so."
>"I'm not a /foal/, give me a straight answer!"
>Foals are young horses, right? She thinks you're treating her like a child.
>She's right.
"You said you're going to check see if there's a portal or something."
>A scoff from her.
>"Yea, and I'm also gonna come with you to your world! You're crazy if you think I'd miss that opportunity."
>Your headache is flaring up again, making you massage your temples. Placebo or not, it helps.
"Not happening."
>Her wings extend for the briefest of moments, then she scowls, returning the waterlogged appendages to her side.
>"I /want/ a straight answer."
>And you want her to shut up, but you can't always have your desires.
"Because you don't belong there."
>"What does that even mean? /You're/ not from /here/."
>You practically hiss at her.
"/Yes/. That's why I'm /leaving/."
>To your surprise, there's no immediate response. Instead she's focused on you, expression unreadable.
>You return to staring straight ahead, realizing you slipped up from keeping an eye out for salvation.
>How long have you been walking?
>"You're lame."
>Keep looking forward, Anon.
>"Anypony else would DIE for the chance of visiting a new world, and what do /you/ do? COMPLAIN. You meet ME, a totally-awesome pegasus, and you think you've gone NUTS! What is WRONG with you?!"
>You should be asking her the same thing. Not only did she barely bat an eye at discovering you, she was /thrilled/.
>"I thought you were cool, but it's obvious you're just a Lame-O. Fluttershy has more guts than you, and she's afraid of almost EVERYTHING."
>That's supposed to be an insult, obviously, but you don't know enough about this "Fluttershy" to take major offense.
>As it stands, you're mildly irked at her words and very agitated by her volume.
>Your eagerness to leave has nothing to do with guts, or fear.
>You only want everything back to normal.
"Please stop, my head hurts."
>To no one's surprise, she ignores you.
>"I'm starting to have second thoughts on visiting your world. /ME/. Adventure is my middle name! But if /everypony/ there is like you, why even bother?"
"Everyone is different."
>Not the response to give when you DON'T want her to accompany you, but you've had enough of the one-sided conversation filled with baseless accusations.
>"I'd HOPE--"
"I WANT--"
>You raise your voice so it carries over hers, taking stage and demanding attention.
>Several tense seconds tick by, your gaze never drifting to the side.
>You're no longer in the mood to look at her.
"I want to go home."
>The volume is much lower now.
"I have nothing against you or this place. I'm sure someone else would love to be here, but I don't... sorry. I have a wicked headache, I'm tired, and my socks are wet. I want to /relax/."
>The complete truth.
>...
>"Fine. You're not lame, just boring... and emotional."
>Despite her words, you smile softly to yourself.
"You're right, I /am/ boring."
>Nothing wrong with boring.
>Not too far ahead trees disperse, signifying a break in the woods. A welcome sight, if not for the significant lack of house visible.
>Are you back home, on Earth?
>Your pace increases, a hand digging into your pocket to retrieve your phone.
>The electronic device is wet to the touch and almost slips out of your hand, but otherwise functions with no fuss.
>No Signal.
>Piece of crap. Utterly useless.
>Back it goes as you approach the end, your heart-rate quickening.
>You don't care anymore if the pegasus follows you. You can almost taste freedom.
>Less than a minute later, you arrive.
>As you expose yourself to the dreary sky, you stop.
>...
>Everything looks the same.
>Same green pastures, same hills, same judgmental pegasus.
>"Here we are. If there's a portal anywhere nearby, let me know 'cuz I don't see anything."
>She proceeds to look around, exaggerating her movements this way and that.
>You barely notice.
>This has to be a mistake.
"We walked straight, right?"
>Your voice is strained.
>"I dunno, I was following you. Don't you know where you're going?"
"Straight. I know..."
>"Listen, uh... Big Guy. Are you /sure/ you came through a portal? I already said I flew over Whitetail Woods today. Didn't see anything unusual. I'd check again, but..."
>Another futile shake of her wings.
>"Jeez, what a terrible day for rain."
"I..."
>You frantically look left and right, observing the imperfect line of trees stretching far.
>While the direct path ahead is clear, a hundred or so yards to your right shows the forest continuing forward.
>That has to be where you came from.
>It /has/ to.
>Wordlessly you start off, taking the turn you know you didn't make yet clearly did.
>"Where're you going /now/? You said 'straight'."
"Mistake."
>"I'm not sure there's a portal here, or anything here. It's just trees."
>You stop on a dime, whirling around to face the winged horse who nearly crashes into you.
>You're not proud of the desperation creeping into your tone.
"I came through here, so I /have/ to leave through here... right???"
>...
>You absolutely hate that look.
>There's also a part of you that's grateful she didn't answer.
>The trip is spent in relative silence, only the rainfall heard over your incessant thoughts.
>So the pegasus finally put a cork in it. Took long enough.
>Now you can focus on more important things, like finding your house or /anything/ that looks familiar.
>As it stands, all you see is plant-life and trees.
>How long have you been at this?
>You know you've been walking for longer than it took to reach... whatever this world is.
>There has to be something here to send you back.
>There /has/ to.
>Came through here, leave through here.
>That's how it works.
>Your head is killing you.
>"... I /really/ don't think there's anything ahead."
>Shut up.
>"Maybe you made another mistake? I dunno."
>Shut. Up.
>"...Are you listening?"
"Please..."
>Stop. Just stop.
>Brain feels stuffed again.
>Everything is spinning.
"Shut up."
>Your voice is weak.
>You amble over to a nearby tree, laying your arms against it to provide less-painful support for your forehead.
>Nothing.
>There's nothing ahead.
>You weren't mistaken the first time.
>You have no idea what's going on.
>There's a returning feeling of panic rising in you, now mixed with a healthy dose of helplessness.
>Only this time instead of going insane you're not sure whether to laugh or cry, both out of frustration.
"Today..."
>You whisper hoarsely to yourself as you chuckle lightly, no trace of humor to be found.
"Today has been... a /shit/ day."
>Your eyes are burning.
>Home seems so far away now.
>You don't know how long you spent standing there, letting the rain assault your back.
>You eventually become aware of something pressed against your leg, and you quit staring at the bark to pinpoint the source.
>The pegasus stands next to you, a foreleg propped on you in what is presumably an attempt to comfort.
>Unlike before, however, her cerise eyes are filled with genuine pity, ears lowered for whatever reason.
>She doesn't say anything even as you make eye contact, only continuing to lightly pat your pants leg.
>...
>Reluctantly you turn, her hoof slipping off as you now rest against the tree with your shoulder.
"I don't..."
>You sound miserable, you voice gravely from the day's swing of events.
"I don't know what to do."
>You don't know how you got here. You don't know where you are. You don't know how to /leave/ and once again, you have no clue what's going to happen.
>You are completely and utterly /lost/.
>The pegasus remains silent, glancing at the tree in thought.
>Whether she has any ideas is beyond you but with how much she was chattering before, you wish she'd say something.
>"Twilight."
>?
>The pegasus looks back to you with a small smile.
>"Twilight. If anypony can help you it's her. She's really smart, /and/ a princess."
>A princess?... Well, the Brits still have 'em.
>At this point you'll take any lifeline thrown your way.
>You sigh, rubbing away some of the moisture on your face.
"Do you know where she is?"
>"Of course! I'll take you to her."
"Thank you."
>You mean it too. She can be aggravating at times but makes up for it with her assistance.
>"Hey, don't mention it... Uh, do you have a name?"
"Yeah. Anon."
>"Anon, huh? My name's Rainbow Dash, but you can call me Dash for short."
>You remember her saying those two words a few times, but largely ignored it at the time.
>What kind of name is "Rainbow Dash"?
>...Then again, she's a winged horse.
>You nod, storing the name away for later use.
"Thank you Dash."
>A wing extends, performing a motion awfully similar to one shooing away a compliment.
>"Seriously, it's cool. I wouldn't leave you by yourself all like this. You've had a rough day."
>You also feel terrible, but you're intrigued by the lengths she's taken to assist someone she just met. A species she's never even seen before.
"Thanks."
>"Stop--"
>A wing is raised to press against her face.
>Wings shouldn't move like that.
>"Never mind. Come on, let's get to the castle. This weather sucks."
>You'd give her flak for dissing rain, but you'll admit it's lost a bit of its luster since you've been here.
>You could do with dry conditions right about--
>Wait, a castle?
>Now you're mildly curious.
>You rise from the tree, grimacing at your unrelenting migraine.
>All this walking isn't doing a thing to help relieve it.
>Dash patiently waits until you're fully upright before taking a few small steps away, checking to make sure you're following.
>You fall in slightly behind and to her side, resuming the gentle massaging of your temples.
>Your expectations for meeting Twilight are low. Very low. EXTREMELY low.
>But if there's a chance...
>"So, uh... Anon?"
>You're physically and mentally exhausted, but you can entertain her for a few minutes.
"Yeah."
>"Just a heads up: Twilight can get a little... /excited/ when she discovers something new."
"Okay."
>It's obvious you don't get it, so Dash continues.
>"I mean /anything/ new. She's probably gonna freak out when she discovers you're an alien, so... be prepared."
>Only one part of that got through to you.
>You purse your lips, repeating the already-timeless words.
"I'm /not/ an alien. Please stop calling me that."
>Dash looks up to you with incredulity.
>"Of /course/ you're an alien. You're not from this world."
>Not the reminder you wanted.
>"Nothing wrong with being an alien. Why, are they considered evil where you're from?"
"No, just... weird."
>"/You're/ weird, so I'm not seeing the problem."
>...
>Don't push it, Anon. You'll go down a path with no winners.
"Thanks."
>Her head shoots up to glare at you, but the stone faced expression makes her simmer down.
>"...Oh, that was sarcasm."
"Yeah."
>And she thinks you're the emotional one.
>If things were different, you'd likely enjoy messing with Dash.
>You'll settle for exchanging misconstrued opinions.
>Not the most effective way of dealing with the situation, but hey.
>It works.