Title:           Anon and Amber Eyes 7: Exhalation
Author:          Speaker-to-Birds
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/bnWzcDsn
First Edit:      Wednesday 13th of July 2016 09:22:37 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Wednesday 13th of July 2016 09:22:37 AM CDT

    >Be Anon.
    >Be a recently mostly-healed Anon, who, together with his-
    >Okay, what IS she to you, exactly? Your friend? Your...you honestly don't know exactly Amber Eyes is to you, do you? You feel happier in her presence, as if she completely fills a hole you never knew you had inside somewhere. You've always made friends fairly easily, but you liked your space. Ponies on the whole were more sociable than any but the most gregarious humans, really.
    >But...
    >You feel happier when she's around. You feel stronger, as if the two of you can do anything, face anything. You feel emptier when she's away from you, as if you're between breaths, ending on an exhale and waiting for the next inhale. You feel...
    >You don't know. You really don't.
    >All you know is that literally no one you've ever been around or with has made you feel this way. And you're not comfortable examining it any further than that, not right now.
    >She's here with you now, and that's really all that matters, isn't it?
    >You remember how she looked three weeks ago, when she took a flight for the first time since the Incident.
    >The look of momentary fear on her face, as the pegasi therapists encouraged her to do a simple glide across a twenty foot gap between two low risers, with lots of stabilized cloud padding between her and the floor, and a lightweight safety hardness tethered to another cloud and therapist attendant above.
    >You remember seeing her bury her fear, and launch herself into space, and how she'd glided just a bit clumsily between them. How you and those therapists had cheered and hugged her.
    >It was still amazing to see such wonders, things the ponies regarded as trivial, over six years after your arrival in this world. You wish they could see it through your alien eyes.
    >Soooo...here you two are, mostly healed, about to leave the hospital where you've both spent the last three months of your lives, and both of you sport a nice .
 
>>27873135
...fresh set of scars.  
>Steady hooves is there, as you're both taken to the front in modified wheelchairs.  Rarity clucks and fusses over the new autumnweight suit she'd brought you/
Uh...Rares, I'm pretty sure you don't need to fuss over over your workmanship anymore, since it's pretty much perfect at this point.  
>"I know, darling, but..."  she tugs gently on the jacket, smooths a wrinkle with a hoof.  "And I freely admit, the workmanship is good, but...I honestly don't know if looks that way to my trained eye, or if it's merely because I'm biased.  And I simply can't take a chance.  Measure twice, cut once, I always say..."  
"Actually, it's more like, 'measure twenty times, pick up the scissors, put them down, and measure another thirty before picking them up again," pipes up an exasperated Sweetie Belle, beside her.
>In the chair beside you, Amber guffaws.  Rarity has her in an ultra-lightweight dress that perfectly matches and accentuates her eyes.  "Seriously, have you ever MET you?" she asks Rarity, still chuckling.  "You've got an eye for detail a flock artificer would envy.  This dress os high-quality enough that a dozen enchantments would probably take on it..."
>You can't understand why Rarity is worried, you really can't--the fashionista has a knack that virtually no one you've ever seen from your OWN world has, the ability to create something that looks as incredible as it feels.
>Before coming to this world, you regarded clothing as basically a necessary evil--you dressed for whatever work you were doing, came home, stripped at the door and changed into something comfy and ragged to wear around the house.  Or just went naked.  Seriously, though, kids, don't cook bacon in the nude.  Nothing good comes of it.  
>Odd how in a world where nearly everypony you met on a daily basis seemed to go naked.90% of the time, you find yourself turning into a real clothes-horse.
>YEAAAAAAAAAAH.jpg.  
>Okay, Brainon, that's fair.  I had that one coming.  Anyway...
 
>>27873247
>It possibly had something to do with the fact that virtually anything Rarity made was not only perfectly fitted--and she could do that without measurement, as much as she was loathe to do it--it was generally insanely comfortable to boot
>maybe it had something to do with the fact that ponies are absolute bears for being as comfortable as possible for as much of the time as possible.  Or maybe
>ITS_FUCKING_MAGIC.jpg
>And you ain't gotta explain shit.
>You DO know that the fabric undershirt, socks and underwear have a light enchantment on them to both help dissipate heat and wick moisture away.
>Before the Great Equestrian Vacation, you wouldn't have imagined that you'd ever put a suit on just to lounge around the house, but now...  
>All of your clothing was made by rarity, or with her supervision.  Your initial wardrobe here was a freebie, and surprisingly extensive.  After you'd become both self-supporting and reasonably well-off, you'd become one of her most reliable regular customers.
>Beside you, Amber tugs on her own dress and mutters, "Seriously, though, do I absolutely HAVE to wear this thing?"  
>Rarity stops fussing with your clothes and starts messing with her dress.  It's simple, it's elegant, it's as comfortable as wearing nothing at all, and Amber is absolutely desperate to get out of it.
>"Absolutely--right now, you're both celebrities of Canterlot, squarely in the public eye.  Which means that the eyes of all Equestria are on you.  You want to look as ravishing as possible, remember?"
And, of course, this is going to serve as free advertising for your Boutique
>You boop her nose while saying that, to show that there's no hard feelings about that and that you understand completely.  You don't know much about fashion, but you DO know that it's cutthroat, as much in this place as in your own world.  You don't turn away ANY free publicity.  
 
>>27873332
 
>>27873332
 
>Steady Hooves clears his throat to speak to you both.
>"You've both got the instructions I gave you, right?" he said.  "You're both pretty much healed at this point, but for at least the next month, you should both take it easy.  You're not exactly broken glass, but it's going to be at least a couple more months before your bones are at full strength."
>He gestures to the thick sheaf of papers, prescriptions and  folders you have in your lap.  Amber's as well as yours.  Hers is very, very small compared to yours.  You look idly at one of the prescriptions, and marvel that doctor's hoofwriting in this world is arguably better than handwriting in your own.  
>"You should both keep up with the exercises and stretching regimen the therapists prescribed for you, and get as much of a balanced diet as you can, preferably high in protein--you're both still works in progress.  In general, try to get as much exercise as you can, but that's good advice for anypony, really.  
>"And, of course, if you have any problems, come back and see us.  And YOU, Anon...I'm going to want to see you again in one month, and then every two, for at least the next year for followup."
>He pauses.  "You were apparently as close to completely nonmagical before the...the incident as it's possible for a living thing to come, and...well, you're literally a limited edition of one now.  This is unprecedented, and no one at this point can pretend to understand what's happened, or what WILL happen--"
Got it, doc.  If I happen to notice anything unusual, like obvious facial tumors, maybe a second head or a fourth set of nards coming in, I'll come back to see you posthaste.
>He nodded.  Sweetie Belle and Amber both snorted with laughter.  Rarity just snorted.  Clothes Horse was not really a fan of fourth-grade potty humor, being that she was a a lady of refinement and breeding.
Steady Hooves nodded.
 
>>27873409
 
>Together, you proceeded to the main entrance to Clydesdale Memorial, and while the girls chattered around you, you wondered, not for the first time, what the hell was it with all the horse puns this world cheerfully gave you.  And why it seemed that there were so many bizarre and nonsensical connections to your own world.  
>And more than that, you're dreading the crowd that's waiting out front.  Because there was no way to hide your discharge from the hospital.  
>Amber was essentially Light Ray's Victim Zero, and that alone made her an object of fascination.  But you were the one the press of Equestria had lionized as the one who had stopped the Marketplace Massacre, the single worst day of violence since the Changeling Invasion a few years before.
>Which made it the second worst incident of violence in over two centuries, at this point.  And right now, reporters from from all over Equestria and beyond were waiting out front to ask questions of you both, along with well-wishers and ponies who just wanted to catch a glimpse of the alien.  
>and to this day, you still couldn't remember what you had done, so how the hell do you intend to answer them?  You wipe your palm surreptitiously on the knee of your suit.  
>beside you, on both sides, Amber and Rarity both see the gesture.  Amber's hoof reaches out and touches your right hand, offering silent support.  She's as nervous as you are. and for some reason, you feel as certain of that as you are that you're sitting right here, right now.  
>You look into her eyes, and she smiles.  
On the other side, Rarity brushes your shoulder.  
>"Nervous darling?"
Do I even have to say yes at this point?
>"No, I'd say it's pretty obvious," she says.  "But the best reason to do this is because if you DON'T do this at least once, they're going to keep chasing you and they're not going to let up.  This is the equivalent to...err, throwing meat in front of a bear, I guess would be the most accurate metaphor."
 
>>27873464
 
>>27873464
 
Colorful, anyway.
>"I've spent a lot of time with Fluttershy, and you don't hang around her without getting at least a few carnivory-based observations.  Anyway, answer a few of their questions, and then we'll away to a restaurant I've picked out for lunch, a nice, quiet spot, and with arguably the best food I've ever tasted in my life..."
So...you DO know that they're going to be chasing after us no matter where we go, right?
>She winks at you.  It's literally the single most adorable expression you've ever seen on any face, pony OR human.  "Well, as to THAT...I have a plan, and I think you'll like what I have in mind.
>You admit that, of all the ponies you know, Rarity has probably the most devious, wickedly-inventive mind for mayhem you've ever met.  You sort of understand where Sweetie Belle gets her talent for calamity and chaos, and you idly wonder what would happen if they pooled their talents and used them in the pursuit of evil instead of good.  
>Or at least in the pursuit of lulz.  
>"As long as it doesn't have a roof," says Amber, shuddering slightly, "Then I'm good with it.  I think I've had enough of closed spaces to last me for...oh, about the next thousand years of my life.  How in the name of Tartarus do you ponies put UP with this, all the time?
>The doctors have given her medications to control the symptoms of bird-pone claustrophobia, but even with the magically-based antianxiety meds, it still shows through.
>She's talked at length about how incredible it's going to be to get shut of this place.  It's just as well that she's even farther along in her healing than you are, since you're pretty sure that a team of wild horses wouldn't be able to drag her back in here again.
[spoiler]>Geddit?  Wild horses?  It's funny because...yeah, well, fuck you too.[/spoiler]  
>"I think you'll both be extraordinarily pleased by it," says Rarity.  "And in answer to your question, yes--it DOES have a lovely outdoor dining area
 
>>27873509
 
>Sweetie Belle hops onto your lap and whispers into your other ear. "You can relax, she's pretty much stopped paying attention to hoof ratings.  the food at Falcone's is pretty good, thank Luna."  
>You mentally wipe your forhead and go "Whew."  You remember the last time you were together in Canterlot rarity had dragged you to a place that was very beautiful, very cold, and you were afraid to touch ANYTHING.  The china was elegant and spotless, the silverware and table linens of the highest quality, the waitstaff were rude, abrasive and as cold the atmosphere, and the food elegantly proportioned and presented and as close to being utterly flavorless as humanly--as PONILY possible.
>Three Hooves.  Fuck you right in the eyes, Zesty Gournand. You mentally give every place that bears the mark of her approval over the not-so-coveted Over 9000 Anon Dicks Rating.  You'd made small talk, enjoyed it as much as you could, and then hit a Griffon joint for enough barbecued rabbit, grilled salmon and strong beer to sink a battleship.  
>Yeah, seriously, fuck that lady right in the eyes with a barbed dildo made of AIDS of the cancer of the leukemia of the everything.  She was a plague.  
>Ahead of your group at the end of the corridor near the main entrance there are six of Celestia's Royal Guard who are talking to four constables, along with a bunch of hospital staff and Amber's mother, sister and two bird-ponies you don't recognize.  They look...well, not worried, exactly, but concerned.  And very, very faintly, past the soundproofing wards, even, you can hear the rumble of ponies outside.  
>Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph, there's a crowd.  
>>27873658
 
>>27873658
 
Yes
 
>>27873602
 
>You aren't aware that you spoke those words aloud until Amber's telekinetic hoof "grippers" squeeze your hand slightly, along with Rarity's hoof on your shoulder.
>The Royal Guard Commander turns toward you with a speculative eye.  Enchantments on their armor make them almost impossible to tell apart-even to their gender--but this one looks larger and more imposing than the squad under him.  he's actually larger than Applejack's taciturn brother.
>"You have no idea," he says, the armor adding depth and a metallic flanging to his voice.  
>Seriously, in spite of their primitive appearance, the suits were practically enchanted powered armor.  You'd studied what they were capable of extensively when writing the novel "Panoply" a few years ago, your first major foray into "original" fiction. "There's practically every reporter from every major news agency across Equestria, and half a dozen other countries.  From a security standpoint, it's a logistical nightmare."  He pauses and extends a hoof to you.  
>"Commander Silver Star, at your service, sir...and ma'am,"  he adds, politely shaking hooves with Amber Eyes, who had been talking animatedly with her family in Flock Mothertongue.  "We've screened as much of the crowd as we can, and they've got plainsclothes officers scattered throughout the crowd, as well as observers on the rooftops around.  But I will admit, I'm not comfortable with this situation.  Emotions are running high out there, and...well, with the rumors, we're not taking anymore chances than we have to."
>He's referring to an anonymous tip that had been received that at least one militant wing of the Unicorn League of Purity held you personally responsible for the events of 07-14-02, the date of the Market Square Attack, and that there was a plan in place to make an attempt on your lives.  
 
>>27873734
>In a society that both held freedom of speech up as one of the highest virtues, AND despised domestic spying, unless absolutely necessary, domestic intelligence was something of a crapshoot
>but, nopony was taking any more chances than they absolutely had to.
"You know," says the constable lieutnenant, having come up beside him, "If you want, you can just say the word and I'll have my ponies disperse the crowd."
>You consider it....strongly...and then shake your head.
No.  Don't do that--if we start running, we'll always BE running.  I know there's some ponies out there who are afraid of me in spite of what happened, and if we don't say something, NOW, it's just going to add fuel to the fire.
>You and Amber have been practically in a state of guarded seclusion for the past three months, but you know about some of the more insane rumors that are going around, the kind of things that, back on Earth, would be confined to the darkest,dankest  corners of the internet or some moron's poorly-mimeographed newsletter with a dozen subscribers.  
>Rainbow and Rarity both had brought a few of them to, just for laughs.  And you had, though honestly, you weren't sure whether to laugh about them or cry hysterically.  So in the end, you'd wound up doing a little bit of both.
>Privately, though.  Anon has pride, you see, and none may see his tears.  Except for that one time in grade school...and that other time on that date...seriously, she'd said she LIKED men in touch with their feelings, and what did she have against them crying about the restaurant bill?
>Women, amirite?
>....
>Ahem.  Right then, moving on.  
 
>>27873764
>>27873805
 
>"While I can't say I agree with your reasoning," he sighs, "I can understand it, at least.  And in your place, I'd probably be doing the same thing. And if you were in my place, you'd be cursing the guy who made it necessary," he finished wryly.  
Believe me, it wasn't by choice.
>He chuckles.  "yeah, I know.  And PR nightmare or not, we're grateful for what you did in July.  At least I am.  It was bad enough.  But it could have been so much worse."
>he senses your growing discomfiture and changes the subject.  "But anyway," he says "We'll get you through this as best as we can, and...well, I hate to ask...:"  Genuinely curious, you ask,
What is it?  
>"My son is kind of a fan of your books," he says  'And to be honest I am too.  I don't suppose you could...?"  He trailed off, hopefully, and you laugh yourself.  
Sure, I'd love to.
>the lieutenant produces four copies of hardcover books, two of the aforementioned 'Panoply' and two of a more recent offering, 'Night Twin.'   Rarity fetches a pen from her saddlebag, and you sign the inside covers with a flourish.  
>I'm signing these, "To my good friends--"Uh...what IS your name,sir?" you ask>  
>"Night Watch.  And my son's name is Cold Stone."    Ah.  Apt.  You've never figured out if somehow ponies are prescient, or if it's simply another quirk of Equestria's magic, because their given names often have some sort of bearing on their life choices.  
"To my good friends, Night Watch and Cold Stone--Anon. Y. Mous."  You know, "Night Twin" has a sequel coming out in a few months--if you want, I can set both you and your son up with some copies ahead of the release date?  Just keep it on the downlow, okay?"
>He grins.  "That would be great.  But...first things first...let's get you through this shit-show alive, okay?"    
One could almost call it...a dog and pony show.  
>YEAAAAAAAAAAAAH.jpg.
>everypony stares at you, a little blankly.  "I...don't think I get it," says Night Watch.  
 
>>27873888
Err...some of these are just for me, I guess.  Different world and all.  Also, for what little it's worth, I'm sorry for the trouble you're having on our behalf.
>He frowns a bit.  "It's a helluva lot better than the alternative, Mr. Mous," he says.  He sticks the books back in his saddlebag.  "Just a second, let me attend to something," and he turns away to speak to one of his officers, a mare had been trying to get his attention.  
>Amber Eyes mother stops talking to her, and looks at you, her copper eyes gleaming.  The older bird pony mare slowly comes over to you and sits on the floor in front of you, her eyes wide and looking into your own.
>After a second, she rears up on her hind legs, and throws her forelegs around your neck, trembling with emotion.  She hugs you, pulling you in close.  
>She whispers something in her own language to you, and then follows it in curiously bird-pone-accented Equestrian, the words whistling oddly.  "You, who who saved my daughter from death at the hooves of a madpony, you have my eternal thanks, and that of all the Flocks of the Red Sun Desert. We owe you a debt that we fear we can never repay. Thank you, Anon Y. Mous.  Thank you."
>She smells like sweet oilsmoke and herbs.  
>White Thorn, Amber's younger sister, is covered with downy, dun-colored fuzz and has a funny little topknot of feathers, almost like a quail.  She's sitting back on her haunches grinning and waving at you.
>"A gift she has for you," says--you blink for a moment, as you try to remember the older pony's name.  that seems to be happening a lot to you, lately.  But then, since Steady Hooves told you your brain was essentially smashed into paste, you darkly muse that it's probably not the worst thing that could be happening to you right now.  
>Fire Light, you remember.  Her mother's name is Fire Light.  
Thank you, Fire Light. I'm honored by your daughter's gift.  
>She smiles, and White Thorn digs around looking for her gift to you.
 
>>27873963
>She takes it out and chatters something in the Mother Tongue, and then hands it shyly to you.
>D'awwwww
>It's a necklace,  a simple platinum chain and tiny crystalline flowers, with a tiny teardrop-shaped crystal pendant, with a tiny blue spark of fire burning within.  You say, honestly,
It's...beautiful.  Thank you.  
>You, Rarity and Amber Eyes stare at it in fascination. Even the Royal Guard and Camelot constabulary seem a little impressed
>Fire Light gently puts it around your neck and kisses your cheek, before releasing you and sitting back down.  She says something to the tiny White Thorn, who giggles.
Uh, Amber?  What'd they say?    
>She smiles.  "Mama says you look very handsome.  And, uh...'You're going to be very handy around the house when you get your full growth.'  That's not exactly what she said, but that's the general gist of it..."  
>She's blushing furiously.  You wonder why.  
>"Well. folks," says Night Shift.  "You ready for showtime?"  
>All of you give your assent.
>"Then...let's go."
 
 
>The Royal Guardsmen go out first, filing out like machines through the main entrance, and then the constabulary follows.
Let's do this.
>rarity smiles. You squeeze Amber's forehoof, and feel answering warm squeeze back.
>"Once more unto the breach," murmurs Rarity. You understand that she's...well, been through things like this before. She's an Element. A national hero.
>Just who the fuck are YOU?
>With doctor Steady Hooves, Rarity and Sweetie Belle at your left, Amber to your right, her mother and sister to the right of her, and the nurses behind your chairs. you go through the main entrance and face the waiting crowds beyond.
 
>>27874314
 
>Your mind almost shuts down.
>At the bottom of the steps, the plaza is filled with...ponies.  Every color of the rainbow, every color, and some that literally defy description, every type, every description.  
>There are goats, mules, donkeys, griffons, minotaurs, races you don't recognize.  There's a few diamond dogs, here and there, and somepony--something--somepony--near the front that looks like a humanoid cat.  A dragon, near the back, carefully holding what looks like a full-sized motion picture camera in its front claws.  
>There are pegasi in the air, some with cameras.  
>Oh so many cameras, all snapping pictures.  flash bulbs, flash bulbs everywhere.
>Near the front, you see what has to be the world's fattest unicorn, literally so big you wonder how he can even walk, smoking a cigar.  He's got a reporter's hat on, complete with a tag that says "Press" and he's smoking a cigar approximately the size of a road flare, to the annoyance of literally everypony around him.  And you can smell that stogie even from here.  
>You start to laugh at the absurd sight, and then stop yourself, because right now, you're afraid you might not stop if you start.  
>Beside you, Rarity is whispering nonstop in an urgent yet soothing tone.  "Just relax.  Breathe, both of you.  Just relax.  We're here, and everything is okay.  Everything is all right.  Just breathe, both of you, and focus on my voice, because I'm here with you and everything is okay..."
>Beside you, you feel Amber's borderline panic as she takes in the sight of so many thousands of assembled sentients at once.  her mother is whispering to her from behind and touching her, trying to reassure her.
>Her wings flutter.  She's desperate to take flight, to escape.  You take her hand and clutch it tightly, and she looks at you, her eyes wide and trapped and staring, her pupils pinpoints.
I'm here with you, Amber.  
>You don't know if you spoke the words, or just thought them.
 
>>27874429
 
>But it doesn't seem to matter, because she seems to get them anyway.  
>Somewhere inside of you, you feel reassuring warmth, and without understanding HOW you know, you feel it coming from her, too.
>You wonder if this is what magic is supposed to feel like.  Because it's a nice feeling, but you also wonder when you're going to start thinking in any depth about what's happened to you.  Because you're still avoiding dwelling on it very deeply or for very long.
>And Doctor Steady Hooves is speaking to the assembled crowd at the microphone and podium set up there, telling them about yours and Amber's healing, therapy and general physical condition.
>The general gist of it is that you can't speak for too long, or answer all of the many questions everypony out there surely has, because you're both still not completely and recovered and presently under a great deal of stress. Which is entirely true.  
>"Right now, you have no idea how much I want to just...disappear.  just fly out of here, flap my wings and vanish over the buildings over there," murmurs Amber Eyes sotto voce beside you.  her teeth are chattering.  
>"And here I thought being cooped up inside of that building for months and months was the worst thing imaginable...boy was I ever wrong."
Hey, just imagine sitting in a park with me and eating corn nuts.  Maybe planning a prank to play on some stuffy rich unicorn or something.  Or we can get out the drum set and lay down some sick beats.  Remember that DJ in Ponyville?  
>DJPON3, AKA Vinyl Scratch, who's also on the engineering teams dissecting some of the electronics you'd donated not long after Arrival.  
>You'd seen some of the breakthroughs her company were spinning off, though she was interested more in their musical applications personally.  You'd been told they were on the verge of some truly stunning magically-assisted breakthroughs.
>Multiplayer Team Fortress 2 was going to be a reality for you again, in the not-too-distant future.
 
>>27874556
 
>And now, the constabulary is up.  
>"Sir, have you completed the investigation into the motive behind the Market Square Massacre?"
>Night Shift answers, carefully.  "At this time, we are still pursuing our investigation, but we've managed to uncover some details by now.  >"First, we know that the attack was carried out entirely by a unicorn going by the name Light Ray, who has been connected with a number of violent criminal incidents stretching back over a decade.  
>"At the time, Light Ray was associated with a racialist organization calling themselves the Unicorn League of Purity, or ULOP for short.  However, the group has strongly and publicly condemned and disavowed his actions and has released an official statement 'expressing regret' for them.  Our investigation into a possible connection there is still ongoing."
>Your lip curls in disgust.
>Yeah.  You already knew that the group was using a cutout to bait non-unicorn thieves--specifically bird-ponies--and attack them with the intention of killing them because apparently there was a real actual market for their wings, tails and feathers, especially overseas.  They made a superlative form of magical lightweight armor, among other things.
>And some griffons and minotaurs both were convinced that ground, dried bird-pony wing bones were good for erectile dysfunction and increased virility.  Seriously.  
>Of all the things your world had in common with Equestria and vice versa, THIS shitnoodle bullshit had to be one of them.  
>You wondered if you could get rich by selling your turds to them as an aphrodisiac, because the idea of feeding your shit to them and having them pay you for the privilege was really appealing right about now.  
>Celestia would be...oh, who the hell were you kidding?  You'd met her, and she was probably the most earthy, fun-loving pony you'd ever seen, and the fact that Twilight somehow refused to see it was true tragedy.  She'd spend a month laughing like a loon at the idea.
 
>>27874719
 
>You lean over and very quietly tell Rarity your notion.
>Her jaw drops in shock for a few seconds before she claps both hooves over her mouth to try to hold the bray of laughter in.  She's literally crying.  
>A few of the ponies in the press conference see her fighting not to crack up curiously.  You smile and wave to them.  It really isn't as funny as you'd hope, but given the stress of the situation...well, you know about "corpsing."
Hey, imagine it, we could get filthy rich, selling Anon's patented Turd-in-a-Box.  Imagine rich idiots around the world paying bits to smoke them or something in hopes for strong boner reinforcement.  We could make a killing!
>"You awful...awful...demented man," she says, gasping for breath.  
>One of the closer Royal Guard escorts also heard you, and were fighting to hide their own smirks.  And Amber Eyes, of course, was giggling like somepony was tickling her.  Most likely, she'd be thinking of ways to improve the idea, seriously or not, and she'd be ready and willing to try to make it thing that happens.
>the bird-pony equivalent to taking an upper-decker.  
 
>>27874822
>>27874822
>Fire Light speaks Equestrian, but with nowhere near the same degree of fluency that her daughter does, and she didn't quite catch everything you'd said anyway, so Amber translates it for her.
>The older mare doesn't bother to hide her laughter from anypony else, press conference or no. She breaks up into laughter, and finally manages to get something out to her daughter through it.
>Amber leans closer to you, smiling, and says, "Mama says, 'Him, I like.'
>You're still chortling like an idiot, and oddly enough, Sweetie is holding it together better than the rest of you. You know how hard it can be to keep from laughing when you're trying to be solemn and silent.
>Silver Star, the Royal Guard commander is fielding some questions about the royal investigation into the incident, and his answers are formal, polite and mostly non-informative.
>Literally everything he says comes back to to some variation of, "I cannot confirm or deny at this time," and "Our investigation is still ongoing, and the details are classified until it is completed, but when they are, you will be the first to know."
>"Sir, have you investigated the possibility that the attack was actually carried out by anti-Equestrian foreign elements, and that we are now on a war footing?" The reporter who asks that...he looks vaguely familiar.
>Where have you seen that stallion before?
>Silver Star hesitates very slightly, and you wonder if anypony else catches it. "Officially, I cannot confirm or deny that the attack was linked to foreign nationals. Off the record, however, there is no evidence that it was, and no, at this time, Equestria is not on a war footing. The Princesses are expected to make a formal public statement regarding the status of the investigation later today."
 
>>27880686
 
>Not for the first time, you curse your own defective memory.  Since the Incident, it seems like your memory is full of more holes than Swiss cheese.
>"One more question, sir," says that reporter.  "Has your office uncovered any evidence to suggest that there is a possible link between the extra-equestrial entity known as Anon Y. Mous and the attack?"
>The crowd murmurs at the su6ggestion, and mostly not in a friendly way.  It's kind of nice to know that the majority of the crowd is in your court.  Some of the reporter's fellows stare at him with their mouth's slightly open.
>One or two that you see, however, have a speculative look on their face.  
>Silver Star frowns for a moment.  "No, there is no evidence to suggest a causal link between Mr. Mous and the incident, or the perpetrator.  Nor is there any evidence to suggest that the perpetrator was acting in concert with anypony else at the time of the incident.  Beyond this, I have nothing further to say."
 
>>27881259
 
>>27881259
 
>And then you remember.
>You remember the media furor after your arrival in Equestria, which apparently happened just after Discord was locked into stone.
>You'd met him a couple of times in the years since.  Seemed like a relatively decent guy, weird sense of humor, penchant for pranks, and he really seemed into Fluttershy. You'd had beers with him, though he insisted on mixing his with chocolate.  Surprisingly good combination, you'd found, as long as the glass wasn't drinkable too.  That tasted kind of funky.  
>Twilight had dealt with a mob of reporters and media then, many of whom were apparently worried that you had been brought to Equestria as some sort of plot by the Patron God of Chaos.  
>the one who had asked the most aggressive, embarrassing, random questions--you had him pegged as the pony equivalent to Alex Jones.
>There had been three other assistants there with them, and this reporter had been one of them, though he hadn't said much himself.  
>You and Twi had read some of the articles in the publication that reporter had represented--the New Aeon Times--and laughed like idiots.
>Seriously, it read like something printed on toilet paper--the stories focused on weird alien abductions, insane conspiracy theories, even more insane political ideas, esoteric fringe magical and scientific theories, adverts for "free energy" devices, weird religious groups, and "One weird trick that will wipe out your tax burden FOREVER!" crap.
>Seriously, your patience had already been put to the test dealing with that weird religious cult that claimed you were a figure known as the Ezezagun, who was some sort of doomsday/antichrist-like figure in some obscure pony religion.    
>You'd responded to them by throwing a bucket full of your own rancid piss at them.  Well, Rainbow Dash had helped fill it, bro that she was.  They still occasionally pestered you.
 
>>27881315
 
>Seriously, you reflect to yourself, you need to stop using the word "seriously" so much.
>Seriously, broham, that's seriously irritating. Stop that.
>"I see him," says Rarity, after you point him out to her.  "Fact Finder, from the Aeon Times.  And believe me, that's...not an apt name. I had some dealings with him, after the Grand Galloping Gala incident.  And the mare beside him is Gossip Monger, with the Fillydelphia Enquirer.  Her name is, unfortunately, extremely apt."  
>And speak of the devil, the next round of questions comes to you.  You stand up, with the cane Rarity had made for you, and take your place at the podium beside Silver Star and Night Shift.  
>there's a certain change in the attitude of the crowd, since you're taller and more physically imposing even than most minotaurs, and between the physical therapy and the magical assistance, they've managed to put a new coat of muscle on you that you didn't have before.  .  
>the first few questions are essentially softballs.  One of them is a mare who wants to know who makes your clothes, which...seems less than a relevant question, all things considered.
Uh...well, my entire wardrobe was made by Ponyville's own Carousel Boutique, owned and founded by our very own Rarity Belle over there, and they've juuuuuust opened shops in Manehattan and Fillydelphia.  Since I can tell you that these are the most comfortable clothes I've ever worn, bar none, well...that's pretty much the best recommendation I can give you.  
>You glance over your shoulder, and see with some amusement that she's squee-ing and practical wetting herself in delight. You wink at her.
>"Ambassador Mous...can you tell us exactly how you felt during that afternoon in July, during the incident itself?"
>'How I felt?'  I was terrified.  the only thing I felt was concern for my friend, who was bleeding to death in the street at the time, and terror that she was about to die horribly.
>And you answer...
 
>>27881415
>You answer more or less honestly. That you don't seem to remember much, and that the last thing you CAN recall with any certainty was being terrified that your friend was going to die there in the street.  
>Honestly, what the hell ELSE would you have been thinking about?
>And then, from Fact Finder there in the third row:
>"Mister Mous, we have it in good authority that upon your arrival in Equestria, you were essentially a creature completely devoid of
magic, and that this was confirmed by Royal examination..."
Which is correct.  
>"Yet, according to eyewitness reports, you somehow generated a magical field-effect which not only protected the pony--a foreign national--you held in your arms, as well as the ponies behind you, it also completely annihilated the...perpetrator himself, one Light Ray?"
...that is...
>"...and furthermore, according to documentation obtained from sources both in the Royal Office of Scientific Investigation and medical reports from Clydesdale Memorial hospital, you were not only dead when you were brought into the emergency room, you spontaneously revived?  And that now you apparently generate an unprecedented level of possibly-dangerous thaumic flux of a heretofore unknown type?"
>....your mouth opens.  You're actually having trouble figuring out how to answer.  And he's still not finished.
"Sir, is there any truth to the rumors that, not only were you operating jointly with the perpetrator of the Marketplace Massacre, you are ALSO the alien vanguard for an extra-equestrian invasion force?"
>...and that's it.  You suddenly feel extremely tired, extremely aggravated, and desperate for this entire nightmare to come to an end.  Most of the crowd seems to be as irritated and angry as you're becoming, and it's directed mostly at Fact Finder.
>But you see a few of them are looking at you speculatively.  And on some of those faces, just a touch of...fear.
 
>>27881468
No...yes, I was , I have no idea what happened because I honestly do not remember, I don't remember THAT, either, and probably for obvious reasons, I couldn't tell you one way or another because I'm not anything resembling an expert in magic, no I'm not, and I am fucking done with this shit, in that order.  And you can quote me.  I'm done with questions today.
>And you see a bunch of press agents starting to yell, including Fact Finder...who suddenly shouts and drops his tape recorder.
>It's suddenly on fire.  
>Along with the cameras of several press agents and reporters near him.  The flash bulbs suddenly flare and burst explosively.  
>Suddenly you're aware of a faintly-glowing barrier in front of you, with three of the Royal Guard--unicorns all--standing to your side and behind.  And Rarity and Amber both are behind you, talking to you quietly urgently.  
>the fires die down, and things stop...exploding.  The crowd is loud.  
>"Calm down, dear.  Focus on your breathing. Don't panic.  Breathe.  This really isn't any different than what literally ANY other magic-user goes through, you're just doing it a little bit later than most.  Breathe in, breathe out..."  
>Silver star steps up to the podium.  "No more questions today. Direct further inquiries to the office of the Royal Guard, or the Camelot Constabulary Office.  Thank you.  We're done today."
 
>>27881537
>You look down at your right arm, which is tingling strangely.  For some reason, you feel...strangely pent up.  As if suddenly standing still is sheer torture.  
>You want to do...something.  You don't know what.  
>Even through the sleeve of your exquisitely tailored suit, you can see the scars on your forearm.
>They're glowing, with a soft red and blue radiance.  Amber is staring at them in wonder along with Sweetie Belle, and so is Steady Hooves, and Fire Light and White Thorn.  
>And so you listen to soft Rarity's voice, and you focus down on your breathing.  In and out, in and out, deep inhale, pause, slow exhale.  Over and over again.  
>And the feeling slowly passes. You look down at your arm, and it's no longer glowing.  
>But it wasn't lost on the press, or the crowd.  At least a few of them saw it, including Fact Finder.
>And he looks oddly satisfied.  
>"This press conference is over," Silver Star barks into the microphone, and together, you leave, the Royal Guard and constabulary serving as icebreakers through the crowd for you. Amber Eyes and your little band of escorts.  
>Reporters shout questions at you the entire time...but they can't drown out the rising rhythmic cheering from the rest of the crowd.  
ANON.  ANON.  ANON.
 
>>27881611
 
>the cafe is a little affair near Market Square, and it's a cool, autumn day.  The name is completely forgettable.  The food and drink they serve is not.
>Unfortunately, neither is the maître d'.  
>"I'm sorry sir, but that...pony is not allowed in here," he says, slowly, indicating your friend with a hoof.  Rarity squawks in indignation.
>"Why you, you sorry, bigoted CAD."
For the time being, you're still warranted police protection, and Night Shift starts to say something.  Amber Eyes shushes him.  She's irritated, but you can tell she's used to this.
>She pulls you aside.  "Look, Anon, you don't have to die on this hill.  I'm not going to say I LIKE this, but I'm pretty much used to it.  All of us are, pretty much.  You might have picked up on the fact that bird-ponies are NOT exactly popular in Equestria, for various reasons?"  
>She takes a deep breath.  "Here's the game plan--you and your friends there go in, you have a good time, you come back out--bring me a doggie bag, and a generous one." she smiles wickedly.  "Then I come back later, when they're closed..."
 Uh, yeah, no.  I've seen how these snooty suckholes keep treating you. A bunch of them decided to kill you as a result, remember?  No.  This shit ends.  Now.
>Lel, you're a--
Shut up, Brainnon, and you're right. Now I'm gonna fucking own it.  
>HUMAN SUPREMACY ENGAGED. WE HAVE IGNITION.  
>You turn around and look at the maître d', pull yourself up to your full height--most ponies barely come up to your groin--and you turn the full force of your humanity on him.  He takes a step backward.
You know who I am, correct?
"Yes sir," he says.  "You're the ambassador and author Anon Y. Mous.  You're most welcome here," he says.
You lean down to him.  
Now I want you to listen very, very carefully.  You know who I am, and you know my work.  I am in the midst of writing a traveler's guide for newcomers to Equestria, which will include a list of recommended places to visit...
 
>>27881876
>>27881876
...and the reasons why somepony should visit them.
>You lean even closer, so that you're practically nose-to-muzzle with him.
>He swallows, unable to tear himself away from your eyes.  
It will also include a detailed list of places one should AVOID, along with detailed reasons WHY one should avoid them.  And yes.  I will name names. Lots of them.  Ponies read what I write, oh yes they do.  They will read them, and they will begin to avoid your place like the plague it is, and I will make certain that they understand that the reason they should avoid this establishment is...
>You glance at his name tag."
High Society. They will know that High Society is a cancer best exorcised from the body politic.  You will never find work in the hospitality industry, much less any other, ever again.  Also, rats.  And roaches.  So many roaches.  ALL the roaches.  But you can avoid this fate.  Simply let me and my friends in, and we can put this behind us.  Do I make myself clear?  
>He swallows and backs up, his eyes wide and his ears drooping.  "I...yes, sir.  Sorry.  There's...plenty of room in the atrium."  
 
>>27881902
>As he scuttles off, Rarity pulls you down with hoof.  "Was ANY of that true, Anon?" she asks, her eyes sparkling.  
Nope, not a word.  All of it was complete bullshit.  But you know, now that I think about it, it's actually kind of a good idea.  So who knows?  I may do it after all.
>She shakes her head, giggling, and Sweetie Belle shakes her head.  "Wow, Anon.  Just...wow."
>Night Shift chuckles.  "You know, if you write that, I might actually read it--I'd actually like to see what an Anon's Eye View of Equestria looks like."
>the rest of the meal passes without incident.
>You all talk about...well, unimportant things, mostly.  The air is crisp and cool, with that bite that tells you summer's over and autumn's in full swing, and the food and drinks are both plentiful and delicious.
>You learn from Amber that according to her mother and the flock elders, the Sea of Mareitania is apparently suffering the effects of an early, storm-choked autumn, which is going to make the late, severely delayed flock migration very difficult, or even impossible.  
>This isn't the first time they've had to deal with this kind of thing, but...it's still going to make it extremely hard.  Some of them are worried about surviving through the winter--it seems bird-ponies, especially young ones, have a sensitivity to cold that makes it difficult to endure a prolonged period of it, and Canterlot, along with most of northeastern Equestria, is far colder than what they're generally able to survive.  
>"We also have...I suppose the easiest way to put it would be a kind of natural 'rhythm' that's easily disrupted.  Our estrus cycles don't quite work like those of other ponies--when we don't migrate, we don't become fertile, and it takes several years to recover from it. Sometimes a decade or more.  
 
>>27881970
>She blushes.  "So...we can sort of go through the motions, if you know what I mean.  But we don't get anything FOR it.  You know?"
>...you start thinking of ways to solve this.
>LEL
>Get your mind out of the gutter, Brainnon.  
>It occurs to you that you've GOT a solution, but it's going to involve money.  You probably have enough, though it's definitely going to hurt.  
>Oh well.  What the hell ELSE were you going to do with it?  Besides, if you were going to learn anything else about bird-ponies, you knew you were going to have to dig deep anyway.  
>Since you'd already half-decided anyway, out of the blue, you ask:
So, does anypony have a ballpark on how much a used Luxor-class airship costs?  
 
>>27882016
 
>Of course, there are members of the press outside, and a crowd has gathered, anxious to see all of you.  And you're dreading trying to deal with it.  
>And then you remember:
Rarity, I believe you said you had a plan to deal with this...?
>She smirks.  "I do.  Aaaand..." she glances at her pocket watch.  "They'll be here in just...pretty much now."
>She looks over her shoulder, at the trio of unicorns ponies strolling into the restaurant's atrium.  And you recognize them.
>One is Vinyl Scratch, the gifted musician/eletronics expert from Ponyville.  The second is Bon Bon, who...you haven't seen as much.  She's cordial enough, though you haven't had much contact with each other, even years after living mostly in Ponyville.  
>But the third...
Oh boy.  
 
>>27882016
 
>Of course, there are members of the press outside, and a crowd has gathered, anxious to see all of you.  And you're dreading trying to deal with it.  
>And then you remember:
Rarity, I believe you said you had a plan to deal with this...?
>She smirks.  "I do.  Aaaand,..." she glances at her pocket watch.  "They'll be here in just...pretty much now."
>She looks over her shoulder, at the trio of unicorns ponies strolling into the restaurant's atrium.  And you recognize them.
>One is Vinyl Scratch, the gifted musician/eletronics expert from Ponyville.  The second is Bon Bon, who...you haven't seen as much.  She's cordial enough, though you haven't had much contact with each other, even years after living mostly in Ponyville.  
>But the third...
Oh boy.  
>She squees, and suddenly you're trying to remove a pony from your arm. "ANON!  it's been so long!  YOU'RE SO SPARKLY NOW!" Lyra cries. She swarms up your arm, and suddenly she's sitting on your shoulders  "ONWARD, MY MIGHTY STEED!  ONWARD!"  
>For some reason, she's wearing one of your old boots on her head.  
>You look down at Bon Bon, and your eyes meet.  
So...she's off her meds again, huh?
>"Yeah, she says it improves her magic. And, you know, she's probably RIGHT, since I know what lithium and ADHD medication does to magic, but handling her when she's like this is kind of tricky.  I'm mostly here to help her focus."  
I see she's been in my house again.  And my garbage.  Please, please PLEASE tell me she didn't cook this time...
>Lyra has never once offered to steal anything even remotely valuable from you.  In fact, you've come home from trips to Canterlot and other places to find that she'd dedicated herself to keeping it clean, tidy and wonderfully organized.  
>Since she kept getting in anyway--she was convinced that she'd dreamed you were coming before you'd arrived and that humans were magical creatures like fairies--you'd finally started paying her as a housekeeper.  
 
>>27882168
 
>Which was a welcome windfall for her, AND for her roommate/life-partner both.  And you got a kickass housekeeper out of it.  
>As long as you kept her from trying to cook.   Oh god...the memories...
>"PANCAKES PANCAKES PANCAKES PANCAKES!" Lyra is yelling, drumming her back hooves on your chest.  "LAAAAZER CHEEEEEEESE!"
Owwwww.
>You pat her hoof awkwardly.  She seizes it in a forehoof and starts playing with your fingers it in fascination, singing a song you're pretty sure you don't recognize.  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qj1heGiIehU&list=RDgMTeytJeSp8&index=8
>Amber looks at you.  "So, uh...just out of idle curiosity, do you have any friends who are...you know, normal?"
>You grin and boop her nose.  She squawks in mock-indignation.  
Nope.  Where's the fun in being a normie?
>"Okay, guys...focus here," says Vinyl.  "So Rares...here's what we're going to do ..."
>She pulls what looks like a bunch of plastic tinkertoys and wires out of her saddlebags, and her and Bon-Bon quickly assemble them on the floor of the atrium into the rough shape of several ponies, and one humanoid.  Basically stick figures made of wire.  It takes less than five minutes.  
>She sits back and critically surveys her handiwork.  "Alright, I think that'll do.  Lyra?  You're up."    
>"Did somepony say my name?" she says, interrupting her song for the first time in five minutes.  
 
>>27882247
>She swarms down your body like a squirrel on meth, and bows low in front of Vinyl.  "COMMAND ME, OH CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN!"
>"Vinyl is probably the best pony I know at manipulating sound.  And Lyra is the best at illusion-magic.  Sooooo...we're going to give the crowd out there something to pursue, while we simply slip out the back and away," says Rarity.
>Oh god, there's a reason you love this mare.  Mayhem, thy name is Rarity.  
>"And you sort of gave me the tools to do what I'm going to do with these."  Vinyl's horn is sparkling, and so is Lyra's.  They're each reading a piece of what you recognize as printout as their horns glow and pulse.  
>The armatures are standing up.  And coalescing around them you see layers of glowing threads, arranging themselves into polygonal shapes.  And in under a minute, there are full-sized, perfect replicas of you, Amber, Rarity, Sweetie, and Night Shift standing there, looking blankly off into space.  
>It's...actually really creepy.  
Wow.  Just...wow.  
>"I know, right? says Vinyl, smiling.  her horn is still glowing, the pulses coming faster and brighter.  She's sweating a little.  "Just...a little...there."  
>the replicas blink and look at each other.  "Say hi, Anon!" says Vinyl, looking at them.  
>"Uh...hello world?" it sounds perfectly convincing.  
>She grins.  "Freakin' awesome.  All:  Program select: A," she says.   "Execute."
>And they begin talking among themselves, sounding...well, pretty much like you'd do.  As one, they walk out of the atrium toward one of the front doors, where the mob was waiting.  
>Lyra is nodding and smiling at nothing much.  Bon-Bon digs out some bottles from her own saddlebag.  "Okay, Lyra?  Please take the damned meds."
>"Awww, do I gotta?" she says.  Frowning, she swallows a couple of the pills, one a soothing purple.
 
>>27882328
 
>"It'll last about...oh, yeah, fifteen minutes or so, before their charges run down," Vinyl says.  "But they'll give the creeps out there something to harass, and they'll respond realistically, more or less..."
With gunfire?  
>"Okay, not THAT realistically," she says.  
>You see that one of the guys out there is Fact Finder.  Good, let him chase a wire-frame phantom.  Literally.  
>Rarity produces several coats, hats and sunglasses--you have no idea where she hat the room in there to keep. them.  
>"Wait, I think...Anon, let me take a look at that necklace."  Amber says, and you lean down.
>She examines it with a critical eye.  "Aw yeah," she says, smiling.  "White Thorn built in something.  Can my sister cook or what?"
What is it?  
>"Just a little There/Not There," she says.  She gently taps it and whistles.  "It's got a little more punch than the one I had.  Now, let's go."
I really...really...really need to get her some more stuff to work with.  
>She smiles.  "Everypony, stay close to Anon."
>You slip through the cafe, and everypony's attention seems to slip away from you as you make your way through the back.
>You stop once while Amber puts a hooftack on the maître d's chair.  
>Nice.  
>And then you're out.  "I kind of wish I could see their reactions when the replicas run down," says Amber.
>"I'll settle for getting back to our rooms unmolested," says Rarity.  Night Shift is calling to let his men know where you are and where  you're going to be.
>Amber flutters up in front of you.
And you...we're going to figure out how to get you guys home.  
>You boop her nose.  
And..I'm going with you.