===================================================================================================================
Summary: Anonymous is a child that no one can understand, not even Flutters. However, Twilight has been steadily making steps to develop a new system of language based on gestures and mannerisms. The creature she once discredited and then feared has become something of a special interest now that she understands a little more on what, or rather who, Anonymous is.
 
Last Chapter: After trying to figure out what to do with Anonymous, Twilight wakes up in the early morning and heads into the now packed barn. There she creates a series of T charts to weigh the pros and cons of her top two choices. After a brief recap of Anonymous’ time with Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy, Twilight considers how the decision will potentially change Anonymous forever. Still her choice is not an easy one to make and the only way to find her answer is a flip of the coin.
 
Posted in Thread 1068
===================================================================================================================
 
>In the brisk morning of the late summer sun the beauty of Sweet Apple Acres’ landscape is put on full display. Bushy trees nearly picked clean of fruit, freshly dug fields coated with green shoots and leaves that will refertilize the ground, and colorful flowers budding with wild scents inviting the buzzing bees stocking up for the coming winter completely surround the purple pony following the trail from the barn to the house.
>Satisfied beyond content, you hold the answer to the hardest question you have ever faced stoutly in your mind, and as you walk your hooves only grace the beaten path as the euphoria of your eureka could have you soaring in the sky even without wings.
>Springy, sprightly and confident, you begin to feel like your old self again. Your old, top of the world, capable of facing anything self.
>You know, before the whole princess thing.
>As you reach for the doorknob the fidgeting of joy and anticipation shake your hoof to the point you can barely contain it.
>Hope Pinkie Pie is awake.
 
>With a quiet yet eager swing the door is open and an empty couch only occupied by indents confirms that yes, they are all awake.
>The clatter of porcelain mixed with gentle hums echoes from the kitchen and you pursue the source.
>There Pinkie stands over the stove as fresh as a rose. Her hips gently sway to the soft and cheery melody dragging along her shapely tail, and despite the hour her mane is in perfect condition.
>Well, as perfect as it can be.
>Beside her, pancakes coated in syrup laced with whipped cream and topped with fruit briefly adorn the counter before Applejack quickly snatches them up. A few of those and anypony would be full for the rest of the day.
>The Apple family sits at the table awake and almost as chipper as the pink baker while they dig into breakfast. Even little Applebloom is as animated as any other day showing a fine adjustment to the harvest rush in spite her age.
 
 
>Early mornings sure are common around here. No wonder half the town is usually asleep by evening.
>Fluttershy also appears functional sitting tall with a content smile and closed eyes giving a homely presence amidst the crowd. Yet, deep breathes behind a heavy lull give her serene figure more of a resemblance to a sleeping angel, and the bags under her eyes paired with the untouched plate tells the truth about her condition.
>Likewise, poor Spike cannot help rubbing the sleep from his eyes while still trying to manage shoveling the food into his mouth.
>And then there is Anonymous who sits quietly at the table with tufts of hair on their head shooting in odd directions. That same passiveness from yesterday still occupies their motions and surrounds them like an aura, but, most importantly, their plate is half full.
>They are eating.
 
>Overstuffed pancakes may not be your first choice for hominid chow, but it does contain the essentials.
>Not to mention Anonymous eating is a HUGE improvement.
>While you linger by the door a peppy greeting barrels into you and rolls through your eardrums.
>”Morning Twilight. Wanna pancake?”
>You’ll never forget that voice.
“Actually Pinkie, could I talk with you for a moment?”
>”Sure.”
>She turns her attention towards you, as does nearly everyone else, and pleasantly smiles.
>You shift your eyes from her to the kitchen door several times, but still receive that same smile.
>…
“Alone?”
>”Oh, heehee, right.”
>You lead her into the family room and avoid the glance of those large questioning sky blue eyes while you take a second to prepare for perhaps the biggest decision you have ever made in your life.
>In…and out.
>Alright, here it goes.
 
 
“Before I get to why I want to speak with you I have to ask you something that has been bothering me for a while. Were you scared when you first met Anonymous?”
>”When I first met Anonymous or when I first saw Anonymous cause I was startled by the noise like everypony else, but after the initial shock I wouldn’t say I was scared. More like eager with a pinch of apprehension.”
“And that apprehension disappeared when Anonymous knocked on your door?”
>”Nope.”
>She delivers her answer so flatly yet containing that elevated tone of her humor, going so far as to pop the P, as if it was obvious to everyone but you.
“What do you mean ‘noPe’? You showed ZERO hesitation to give it a spoon of cake mix and invite it into your house.”
>She smiles at your ruffled feathers looking as pleased as punch.
>”Don’t you remember what I told you the night we first met, silly?”
>Her question is immediately followed by a deep breath.
>Pinkie, don’t you dare…
>”When I was a little filly and the sun was going doooooown~”
>You swiftly respond by plowing a purple hoof into her mouth.
“Oh no, you are not getting off that easily. Be serious, you ran and screamed from Princess Luna and Zecora.”
>The wound up hurricane blocked by your hoof looses steam as she drops the antics and faces you with a sincere stare.
>You remove your hoof, though that may have been a bad idea as the cheeky hook of her lip is still present.
>”Well, I knew Princess Luna was safe since we brought her back after giving Nightmare Moon a heavy dose of concentrated friendship, which was just so amazing that I kinda wish we got to do it more often, but at the time I was having fun being scared with the kids.”
 
 
>“Like seriously all of that running in a panic was really exhilarating and it helped burn off those candied apples I kept getting because it turns out the Apple family take shifts for cart duty on Nightmare Night, but I didn’t know that and whenever I went by I thought ‘That’s funny, I coulda sworn I already went there but I don’t recognize that pony,’ plus their costumes were all so good, and so I would get more candied apples, then before I know it there was someone else at that very same cart—“
“Pinkie!”
>”Sorry. Anyways, you were with Princess Luna the entire time so I knew she at least had one friend to enjoy the night with. Like I said, sometimes being scared is fun but when Anonymous showed up no one was having fun; especially not Anonymous. The townsfolk were just being their usual scaredy-cat selves, but nobody was there to explain that to poor Anonymous or say that everything would be okay in about an hour. Instead, Anonymous could only guess why everyone left, and I don’t think it was a happy conclusion. I can still see the look in their eyes that day, the kind of look that says ‘Wait for me. Don’t go.’ Anonymous needed a friend and that broke my itty bitty heart.”
>Her overly animated self peaks and drops in line with the described scenes ending with a droopy posture while remaining ever playful, but before you can comment she awkwardly snaps to jolly.
>”But then you told me you were on the case, and I knew that with you there everything would be okay.”
”Gee, I wish I had your optimism. What about Zecora?”
>Her cheery rounded brow sharply dives into a harsh line wiping the smile from her face.
 
 
>”Zecora had a reputation before you even came here, Twilight. I say enchantress you say alchemist; you say tomato I say tommato. She spends her time making a whole bunch of potions, some of which do nasty stuff like turning a pony into a zombie, and that is not Pinkie keen. When you make something for others it should make them happy and feel good, like when you eat that perfectly warm cinnamon bun with the gooey frosting that just drips into your mouth making you forget all of your worries. Food or drink that is the fundamental idea. Purposefully making something that does the opposite is just wrong.”
>Fundamentals of food?
“She makes those things to help ponies not turn them into zombies. I make potions too you know.”
>”Yeah, but that is different. You are a bookworm with a hobby while she does it for a living. And sure she does it to help ponies, but what happens when someone accidentally break one of her pots and they tell her they are really really sorry and they will replace it, and she is says that it is okay, and then they think it is water under the bridge, then she offers brownies to make sure there are no hard feelings, and of course they have one because they are friendship brownies who could say no,then BAM! Free zombie.”
>What? Where does she get these ideas?
“There are no such thing as zombies. And Zecora wouldn’t do something like that.”
>”I stand by my foodamentals.”
 
>Why is it you never know which Pinkie Pie you will get each day? If her plan was to make you second guess your decision she is doing a good job.
>She never acts like this towards somebody except…
>A-ha!
“You’re jealous aren’t you?”
>Her voice pitches as high as her now arched eyebrows.
>”I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous? I make some of the best tasting food in Ponyville.”
 
 
“But Zecora has an even deeper understanding of ingredients. She knows the characteristics of most plants and minerals as well as their combinations. She is a master of cause and effect.”
>”I don’t see her going to any baking competitions, which is good because she would probably slip the judges some sort of ‘vote for me’ serum; like a truth serum but in reverse. A lie serum!”
>Nailed it.
>Her eyes lock onto your smug grin.
>”Okay, so I’m a little jealous of her, annnnnd a teensy bit scared. I mean how can anypony not be? She could slip a potion into ANYTHING and we wouldn’t know until it was too late. I’m not exactly a picky eater.”
“You don’t say.”
>”I do say, and so I have to be extra careful when Zecora is around or I could end up growing a pair of wings or something else terrible.”
 
>The carpet of smugness is jerked right out from under your hooves.
>Even in her confessions she manages to take a jab at you.
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
>”If I had wings what color would they be? Look at me, I’m as pink as strawberry milk with half the variety. I’m so pink my name is pink. I’d be pink on pink on pink, and that is one too many lightish reds.”
>Why do you even bother?
>Regardless, you have your answer, as silly as it may be. Let’s get back to the matter at hoof.
“Okay, so that explains your reaction to Princess Luna and Zecora. I know I said I had one question to ask you first, but I do have another.”
>”Technically you have already asked six, but who’s counting?”
>Sometimes…just…
“Humor me. What is Anonymous to you?”
>Her sprightly form that dances as if always on stage goes slack as if the curtain has been called for the first time.
>With nose pointed to the floor her lips wiggle with each passing idea while her eyes forever stay at the top of her lids.
>She then innocently returns her focus on you.
>”What do you mean?”
 
 
“I mean, I know you will do anything for your friends and family, but we are all aware Anonymous is something completely new. I told you they are not a pet but I also told you that they were a wild animal, and yet…well, I do not want to influence your answer so, please, tell me based on what you think it means. Truthfully.”
>Still unsure, she places a tender hoof against her chest and looks down at her heart.
>I guess it is like how when you cook for others you give it your best because you do not want to disappoint them. You want to see them happy; you want to know they liked what you made because even though everybody’s taste is different every failure is personal. But for those close to you, you want to make something extra special because you love them so much and are willing to try something new because you know they will still be there for you.
>And then there is that one peculiar stranger. The one you know nothing about and have never seen before so you have no reason to consider them as anything more than a potential friend, but something stands out. Something about them just feels sad, like life has stacked everything against them and shoved them into being an underdog. And you know, you just know, even though it should all be in your head. Then you find yourself rooting for them and wishing there was some way you could help, but it seems impossible.
>Still you try. Even while telling yourself that you are powerless against their nightmare you reach for the stranger and you become invested before even hearing their name.”
>Slowly she lifts her head to meet yours while her hoof remains at her heart.
>”I didn’t feed Anonymous because I thought they were some sort of pet, in fact I never even considered them an animal at all. I feed them because it was the only way I could think of to help.”
 
>You match her gaze with a gentle smile matched with peaceful eyes.
>She will be a great substitute.