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Story Names Are For Plebeians!
Posts : 48
Join date : 2012-10-14
Location : The bottomless pit that is Kirby's stomach
|Subject: Story Names Are For Plebeians! Wed Nov 20, 2013 9:00 pm|| |
Given the vast majority of what I see on this forum in the terms of literature, I consider what I plan to write a step out of the norm. I had a brief overview with the rules, so I'm assuming it's not because its prohibited.
Written in the second person, this story centers around the journey of a strange and marvelous new creature who has been haphazardly dragged into the realms of Magical Talking Horse Land: a human! Buckle your seat belts, because it's going to be a bumpy ride for sure.
I originally intended for this to be a story written solely by me for the pleasure of others, but figured that it might be good to let others join in at some point when I feel the story has been adequately set up. Without further ado, the prologue!
A piercing sound hits your ears with the fury of a thousand white-hot suns. For a moment you reel back until realization strikes: your alarm clock. Dammit. Your eyes pry themselves open of their own accord, the same way they did every morning. You groan, body operating on full auto pilot; gotta turn that screeching banshee of a clock off. Moments pass, and a hand slumps on the beeping devil to your side. You hate it with a burning passion, but it's one of the only things keeping you from being homeless. Er, apartments count as homes, right? More grumbles pass your barely conscious lips, body proceeding to move of its own accord toward the restroom.
Shower, shave, brush your teeth. Day in and day out, it never changed. Heck, you could probably start a religion around this stuff if you wanted. Minutes passed, and soon lots of sounds resembling the beginnings of car operations rang out into the frigid morning air. Click, turn, vroom. Yeah, something like that. Before long, you're well on your way to work.
It's funny how you can't even remember what your job is. Not many people can at this hour in the morning. It's just as boring and monotonous as any other dead-end occupation. No real distinguishing factors from any other occupation like it. Your day goes by, agonizingly slow as usual, but you grit your teeth and keep on trucking through. You're currently outside of the store which you work at. Taking out the trash or some other such grunt work. You're on autopilot again, so attentiveness isn't currently your strong suit. Cardboard boxes are collapsed and folded to be made compact, and subsequently put into larger, undamaged cardboard boxes. You'd never admit it, but these get damn heavy after a while. Oddly enough, you're pretty much the only guy at the store who can do this sort of thing all day, everyone else is a stick or somethin' to that effect.
While work sucks horrendously, you actually manage a pretty active and outgoing life at home--well, you manage an active life, social life is another story. But no seriously, your work is really bleh-tier. And you only barely have enough time to maintain an active life. A while ago, back when you more or less sold your soul to this 50-hour week at just-over-minimum wage job, you were forced to make a decision. You remember it like it was yesterday.
Some time in the past
"Well crap. I guess I don't have much choice," you say this to yourself as if there's someone to listen. You should work on that whole 'talkin' ta yerself' habit going on. Doctor said it's bad for you. The terms 'health' and 'social life' float around in your head a while as you ponder. You're going to have to choose one after taking on this job. You sat there all night deciding. It was arguably the hardest thing you've ever done, and you had no idea why. A lot of people would throw all concerns about health to the wind; but no, you had to be different. You were one of those guys who just gave a rat's ass about things normal people didn't. Indeed, you might as well have been a stereotypical, "ach ja, I pick 'zings ap und put 'zem down," German body builders compared to the average denizen of your town. Obviously, you never were really that big, and were probably never going to be. Just toned and all the great stuff that comes alone with it.
You don't remember when, but at some point you just decided to forget everything and continue being a fitness nut over retaining something that might have looked like a group of friends. Well maintained body > friends. Besides, with good looks, you're sure to find friends with little to no effort, right?
Man, your mind really wanders at work while on auto pilot. Probably the same for a lot of others. For a moment or two, you return to your senses; and at just the right time it seems!
You look up from hoisting enormous collections of cardboard into dumpsters for a moment to see your manager calling you from the back of the building you work in. Wait, that's weird. Why's he so informal? That dude *always* has a stick up his butt, what's going on? While you wonder about that, you notice another thing that seems to take precedent: why's he so slow?
No really, wat?
It's like your manger's voice was played from a vinyl record, and someone slowed him down to 45 RPM from 78... and he just keeps getting even worse. Click. Just like that, everything is frozen in place. Except for, you know, you. A quick glance at your surroundings seems to confirm everything, but you're not quite sure if your brain has properly registered what just took place. Maybe you should pop out your eyeballs and clean'em off to make sure everything's in proper, functioning order.
Nah, you're almost certain you're only half denying things now. You know exactly what's going on. Time's stopped. A lot of questions pop into your head, comprising primarily of "hows", "whys", and "whats". You could stand here for the next 100 years and just ponder what's happened to you right now in this very instant. Seriously, you could. Still, something tells you things just aren't going to play out that way. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity here. You should do something to see what happens!
You briefly consider that you might be stuck like this for all of eternity, but dismiss it for now. Better not to grate your sanity just quite yet. Well, what can you do now? You test the capabilities of items around you for... um, science--yeah,that's it, science! Your foot gingerly taps a discarded soda can on the ground close by to see what happens. Upon making contact with you, it proceeds to move as if unaffected by the apparent stasis of time... until it stops touching you. The very instant your foot is no longer on the cardboard, it continues being frozen and such.
Your mind assaults itself with many, many words at a very, very fast pace. But not to worry! You don't get a chance to make yourself go any crazier, that can come later. No, for now your attention is caught by something. By what? You hadn't noticed it before, but apparently you're covered in some sort of aura, and it's getting brighter by the second.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL HE--"
You don't get to finish your sentence as everything goes black. Without warning, you've been whisked into what was a nearly indescribable black void. You're aware that black is the absence of light, it was one of those grade school things you learned a long while back; but good lord, this is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's not like there's just no light here, it's as if there never was and never will be light where you are. For a moment things are quiet, and your mind is given a few precious moments of respite. You're not unconscious, but you're not exactly awake either from the looks of it. You ponder briefly on the idea that you may have died. Wow, death's pretty boring if this is all it has to offer. Maybe you had an aneurysm or something, maybe you were done in by some crappy genes. Or maybe some crappier jeans. A lot of things are maybes at the moment.
You can't feel the effects of gravity, nor can you control your body for that matter. In fact, you can't really tell if you have a body to control. You sit--eh, float? Whatever--you exist here in this strange, dark void. A question comes to mind: what now? As abruptly as this all began, "it"... well, ended, whatever this was. You don't really know when "it" did, things changed far too quickly for you to keep up. All you're aware of is that things got real. It involved being clobbered by a wall of light as if you pissed off a freight train to the point it derailed and hunted you down. Things were as if something got tired of you floating around in limbo and just smote you from existence. Maybe God, if he existed; you were always skeptical, though. Actually, given all that's happened, not much seems exactly implausible to you anymore. Maybe it really was a deity of almighty power.
You never were a devout religious person. Hell, it was almost a stretch to say you were religious at all. You saw organized religion as evil, but could never decide for yourself what to believe.
Wait, crap, things are happening again.
Before you even know what's going on, all senses are being used at once. You're blinded by light. You're deafened by thunder. Is that electricity you taste and smell? A bit of that and crisp flesh, maybe. Oh yeah, and pain. Lots of pain. It feels like you were just crushed by a big ol' 20 ton weight against concrete. Ow. Suddenly, you hear an ear-shattering "POP!" sound. Just like that, everything ceases. Everything. What a horrible experience. At least it's over. You're pretty certain that you have a body again, though. The fact that you're now utterly exhausted just about proves this. In fact, a nap sounds pretty nice right about now. Yeah, a nap.
And just like that, you're out.
Next time on Story Names Are For Plebeians!: The true plot begins as Anonymous is violently thrust into a new world from which he may never escape! Prepare for many things: friends, struggles, hopefully better writing, and ponies!
Despite being self conscious about my writing, I love to do it. If anyone who reads this has critique, comments or both for what I put here; feel free to PM me! It's nice to know people are reading my story, love it or hate it. Getting a bit better in the process is never harmful, either. ;)
Posts : 48
Join date : 2012-10-14
Location : The bottomless pit that is Kirby's stomach
|Subject: Re: Story Names Are For Plebeians! Wed Dec 25, 2013 1:06 am|| |
Chapter 1 - Settling In
(Upon initial writing, there was some minor, vulgar language present. I have removed the worst of it to my knowledge, but this chapter is still not devoid of swearing whatsoever. Read onward with caution!)
Wh-where... where am I?
Gradually, your senses return to you; the first of which is feeling. You're warm, that's a good thing. You're still exhausted, and given how comfortable things are, you could go for some more sleep. In fact, you think you'll do just that. You shift from your back to your side. Not a good idea. A sharp pain stabs at your side, and all thoughts of sleep are out the window in a flash. Suddenly, another sense rears its head: smell. It takes a hefty while, but you come to realize your nostrils burn with the pungent stench of rubbing alcohol, mixed with faint traces of other medical... things. For all you know, the entire place was lathered gratuitously in the stuff. Next up is taste.
You smack your lips together briefly, and fresh air enters your mouth. It's at about this time that you realize your mouth tastes like several day old bacteria cultures--oral hygiene places itself comfortably high on your to-do list. Take care of that, and maybe find out why the hell your side hurts so much; it's almost unbearable. You struggle to find any strength to move again, but your curiosity is killing you.
It's as though your limbs have turned to lead. Great. Regardless, all this effort has you consistently shifting in the bed. Suddenly, you hear voices.
"Is he waking up?" says one individual whose voice you couldn't quite make out. Another exclaims in excitement: "I think he is! Go get the others, they'll love this!" Things seemed to be in a hospital setting until the second voice. You can't imagine having more than a single person present should you wake up in one, things are getting kind of weird. You mumble something indecipherable from under your breath and attempt to sit up with the aid of your oh-so-useful arms. A familiar pang of agony strikes you in the gut, and you're nearly floored for a second time right there. At long last, however; you're sitting up.
"Ow," your pained body miraculously grunts. You manage to stay upright, but both of your hands find a new spot upon your abdomen, cradling whatever may have been harmed. Skin brushes along some berated and bruised skin, and suddenly you realize that you have no shirt. Then, you hit the source of your pain: bandage. Lots of it. Must be a laceration or twenty, nothing too bad. Given how groggy you are, your cognitive abilities are limited at best for the time being. Your thoughts primarily consist of, "me hurt. Make hurt stop." Primitive, but it's better than nothing. Your conscious mind clings to it for stability. A door creaks on its hinges, and the previously dark room is bathed in light. Not too bright, so that's a plus. The kind'a light level you'd get from a few sparsely placed torches.
"Are you okay?" a soft voice calls out. It definitely belongs to a woman, but a woman you by no means are acquainted with. She sounds worried, almost so much so that it's borderline hysteria. Hurt as you are, you should say something to calm whoever this is down.
"N-no, no. I'm fine." Your speech is patchy at best, about as good as you'd expect. It teeters and totters unsteadily in the air for a moment before fading, but your sure your message got through.
You're met with silence... weird. You finally manage to open your tired, crusted eyes. Your gaze falls upon the utterly shocked face of... something. That's a face alright, just not human.
Bubblegum pink mane.
If you didn't know any better, you'd think you just conversed with a small, pastel colored pony thing. But no, that'd be impossible. Your eyes shut, then open again to reveal the same image. Shock is clearly evident on both of your faces. Was this really happening? You want to keep denying things, but you're at a loss for excuses. That's a talking horse. <i>Right. Over. There.</i> Maybe you just went crazy and are in some sort of asylum for the mentally disturbed. A man who believes he sees wildly colored, talking horses. Makes sense.
The one you're currently, ahem, 'talking' to has a rich cream color for fur. You also take notice of the fact that her extraordinarily long mane nearly stretches to the floor. Relatively speaking, of course. Relative, because she's tiny. Really tiny. Like, three and a half feet <i>short</i> tiny. And so are the others. Wait wh--
"Wow, it talks?!" cries a cyan colored one in what comes off as both awe and shock. That one's hovering in the air. For a second you have no idea how until your eyes take note of flapping wings; a pegasus. A tiny, tiny Pegasus.
"Rainbow Dash, 'it' is a he, get that through your head!" snapped an exasperated sounding purple pony, who had a horn on its head. You take a moment to yourself.
Ponies, pegasi AND unicorns?
Something is even more wrong here than before. Not only are you in a room chock full of talking horses that look like they were colored in by second grade girly girls, but several are of the mythic variety as well. You tell yourself to calm down, and to take deep breaths. Count to ten...
Things mellow out after a few moments of little ponies bickering at one another. Alas, your moment of repose is short-lived, as all eyes are once more turned on you. You count six pairs of eyes peering into your soul, looking for answers to lord knows what. In the midst of this all, a thought comes to mind. It isn't the first time and sure as hell won't be the last: where are you?
This is really starting to disturbing you, just being ominously gazed unto by so many people--er--ponies. Still, with all eyes on you, might as well speak what's on your mind, right?
"Where am I?"
Your face contorts mild confusion. Many present seem baffled by the fact you can form a coherent sentence. In fact, it's to the point that some are reeling back in physical shock, one making a noisy thump upon the floor. It was that blond colored pegasus. Did she swoon? Who knows.
"He really can talk!"
Wait, the real thing of marvel here was the fact you could talk? You? Balderdash! These things were a single nightmarish trait away from being freaks of nature. Just think about it: pastel colored ponies, vibrant colors of the rainbow, some with wings, others with horns. If nothing else, you shouldn't only be asking how they can talk, but how they even exist.
A possibility dawns on you, and you shudder. What if you're in another universe or... something? It'd turn out that multiverse theory crap was the real deal, huh?
Suddenly you're forcibly pulled back to reality as something hits you. No really, something just hit you; you got nailed in the forehead by a... wait, you're buried now, and breathing is substantially more difficult than it was before.
Mattress, meet face. Someone threw a MATTRESS at you. Seriously? Why?
"Twilight, what the HAY is that thing again? It's creeping me out with those... whatever-you-call'ems," a somewhat unstable, prone-to-cracking voice cries out.
You can hardly hear a damned thing from under this giant piece of sewn fabric and springs. Your still feeble body gives a heave and shove to try and free yourself, but no luck. And then, the weight on your chest vanishes. An aura envelopes the mattress so snugly laid atop your body, and you watch as things go from pitch black to filled with warm colors once more.
Even so--no, this is just too much for you to handle. You were beginning to wake up there for a short amount of time, but it turns out your brain is beginning to short-circuit from a critical overflow of information.
'Enough of this bullshit!' it cries out to you in anger and desperation. You feel an inner conflict commence, but the only thing to come out of it is further exhaustion. Despite your best efforts to remain conscious, you feel the waking world become once more stolen from you. Oh well, you needed more rest anyways.
Oh yeah, your wounds coupled with a lot of action at once might have played a bit of a role in everything, too. In tandem with your abrupt lack of attentiveness, the ponies that were originally beginning to swarm you sigh. Their tones reflect all sorts of emotions along the spectrum. They'd get their chance later. Maybe.
Silence envelopes your entire being. Nothing goes in nor out. For a while, you don't even know if you're breathing. Your eyes open, and you're greeted by the vacant void of space. Things seem awfully familiar to that time you got mystically transported to wherever you are now. Maybe you're going back?
Just before ideas start taking root and sprouting, everything begins to clear around you. The blackness shrouding your senses gingerly fades away. What was once blindness now becomes sight, and you are subject to the majestic sight of millions upon billions of stars. You become captivated, and stupidly grin at the pretty picture. It isn't until a good while later that you begin taking notice of your surroundings. Craters, lack of weight, a pale luminescence bathing you and the surface upon which you lay. You're... on the moon? Your hand reaches down, and you feel small granules of dust slide between the digits of your hand. Was this what it was like to lay in a giant container of talcum powder?
Despite being in the depths of space with no sort of protective gear on, you don't even bat an eye. Everything just seems so serene. So tranquil and full of peace. You've arguably never experienced such contentment before, ever. If only you had something soft to hold onto. And just like that, your sense of peace devolves into something more closely resembling seclusion. You remember being transported to a whole new world, away from your own. Back then, you had family if nothing else.
You've been laying here for what feels like an eternity, so you think. You think, and you think, and you think some more. You realize you might be stuck in this crazy world forever, never again destined to see those closest to you. Alone. You've always hated that word. Years of it being used and abused by attention whores with first world problems have made you label it as synonymous with them. Despite what inherent animosity exists between you and that wretched word, you still can't deny it. You are in fact alone. It's almost to the point that you can't find words to describe the feeling properly.
You're a strong man, and you know it. You like to take at least minimal pride in knowing you are. And yet... you lay here. You lay here to find yourself lying alone. One tears passes down your face. Another soon joins it, soon thereafter followed by a third. A forth, fifth, sixth. Would you look at that? Poor old Anonymous, shedding tears. You drift off silently into your own thoughts, more stray tears bubbling up to the surface of that thing you call a face. They cascade down your cheeks in a silent torrent of what is pretty pathetic woe-is-me. Perpetual solitude was something you could never see yourself coming to terms with, the thought caused far too much emotional distress.
Oh for Pete's sake, Anonymous. Just listen to yourself think, you sound like a damned pansy.
Even with your outbursts(inbursts?) of self-lecturing, you don't know whether or not to consider yourself weak, or somebody trying to play tough guy. Either way, it felt like a losing battle. What a vicious cycle of horse manure.
Oddly enough, you're pulled away from your thoughts, and at a good time. Any later and you might have mentally torn yourself to shreds with a seemingly insurmountable inner conflict. Your gaze wanders the vast moonscape sprawling out in all directions laterally around you. Things seem to be getting darker. It's sort of as if somebody was just ever so slowly extinguishing the sun. That, and your senses. Things gradually fade away, and just as it all goes to pitch, your eyes snap open.
You spring up in bed without a warning. You awoke from... from something. You don't really know whether or not to call it a dream or a nightmare. A little of both seems like a fitting summary. For a while, it's just you and your heavy panting. Your right hand moves to wipe a cold sweat from your brow. It takes a good few minutes before recovery sets in.
Despite how vivid that dream was, you still can't quite shake off the sense of grogginess. You're not really sure why. However, what you do know is that things are warm. Very comfortable and warm, just like when you woke up a few hours ago. You remember that mediocre bed you'd awoken within before. Sheets of cotton and wool had been replaced by those of silk and velvet. And the bed was positively massive. The surrounding area is still comfortably dim, and you don't strain your eyes at all to see. In fact, the light is actually sort of soothing when there aren't a dozen talkative horses verbally assaulting each other as well as you.
"So you've awoken," said another new voice. Gradually, you shift yourself until your vision encompasses the area the voice came from. Lo and behold, it was another marvelous and talking pony. Wonderful. This one was larger than the others, too. And darker as well. You didn't really know why, but despite the fact that this was a creature of equine origin that should have no features distinguishing it from being a male or female, you just seemed to know she was a girl. Maybe the voice gave it away.
"I... have?" You aren't quite sure how to respond, and so what would be an otherwise simple statement becomes a drawn out question. A drawn out, stupid sounding one. She giggles in response. "Indeed, it seems you have."
You're not even really thinking when you ask this. It's just sort of reflexive. Out of habit when speaking to someone unknown. Besides, after all the random crap that's happened to you, you feel entitled to some answers. It's not until after the question leaves you that you take a moment to consider what this new acquaintance looks like. Not only is she taller, her frame is incrementally more slender as well. She has a mane and tail that resembles the night sky, and billows gently in a nonexistent breeze. Her hooves are clad in some sort of metal, like intricately designed horseshoes, and on her flank is... well, put bluntly, the moon. Lastly, you notice two new features: not only a horn, but wings as well.
"Who are we?"
Your question is met with a question. Beautiful; exactly what you wanted to hear. It takes nearly everything you have to keep from getting visibly frustrated. You try again.
"Yes, who are you?"
You're positively flooded to the brim with questions, but it'd be best to take things one at a time in a situation such as this. For now. She'd been laying on the ground some distance off. From what you could see, it was by a lit fireplace. The flames lapped tentatively at the air. They would flicker and swoon on occasion, only to return to life with a surprising vengeance. Shadows near the mare danced and paraded around to the rhythm of a song unsung, known only to them. Since you'd repeated the question, she'd noticeably straightened up. Hopefully you'd actually get somewhere now.
"Given how little you appear to know about where you are, I doubt it would do much to help you."
You want to keep pressing her for information, all you're getting is political-esque dodges to your inquiries. Even still, you realize that she's right. It won't make a difference if you have a name or not. But still...
"Well I have to start somewhere, don't I?"
You can see her smile for but an instant before the upward curl of those mischievous lips fade away into the forced professional neutrality you might expect from a seasoned politician.
"If you're to remain so persistent, then very well. You may refer to us as Luna, Princess of the Night."
Wait, wait, wait.
Princess? Of the Night? Well, the second part sounds like some sort of lame metaphor, so it isn't really as shocking as much as it is just odd. Given the circumstances, it shouldn't alarm you that there are such things as a hierarchy involving princesses at the top in a place like this. Bright, childish colors being adorned by nearly every equine you'd gotten a chance to lay eyes on since arriving. You even remember one distinctly having a rainbow for a mane and tail. Even still, you're completely thrown for a loop.
"You're a... princess."
"Yes, we are."
"Of the Night."
"Is there one for the day, too?"
What the crap. Just... you just gotta calm down, man. Reason things out with yourself. Clearly you're still back on Earth... probably being administered some sort of drug to return your sanity and cognition. Yeah, that's exactly what's happening right now. In fact, you could probably just close your eyes and wake up from this bizarre-as-hell dream right now. You ball your hands into fists, and a moment later your eyes clench shut as well. You strain nearly every muscle in your face, and clack your bare heels together like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.
"Um...?" Luna asks you with a growing expression of confusion and worry. It was obvious she was questioning whether or not this was a custom of your species. "Is this how your species formally greets others?" Before you know it, she's mimicking your every movement like a complete doofus.
Your breathing is slow and deliberate, and all the while:
"There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home!"
You open your eyes, and... nothing! Absolutely nothing has changed. Well, except for the fact that you see a talking pony in front of a fire place clacking her hind hooves together with a scrunched up face and eyelids that are held closed way tighter than need be. It's actually kind of adorable until you realize that until a second ago you were doing the same thing.
Wait, she's mocking you! Suddenly, you feel a tinge of warmth shoot up through your cheeks, and you cross your arms in vexation while giving... whoever, whatever exactly this was again--Luna, a glare and scowl. "Ahem."
On cue, the overly goofy creature in front of you snaps back to reality. She suddenly tunes in on your apparent frustration.
"Have we not performed your species' greeting properly?"
"My... what--y'know, nevermind." You heave out a great breath of air from your lungs. Inexplicably, the conversation has dried up, and things are now awkward for the both of you. Well, maybe it's just you. You're tired, groggy, cranky, and generally in a bad mood. Being tossed into a new world you'll probably never leave doesn't help.
"I want to go home," you say in little more than a mumble. You don't even know why such words are able to leave your mouth. Home sucked. No friends, minimal family contact, minimum wage job and a cramped and stuffy apartment. The only ups involved the endorphin releasing exercise you did constantly, even then it was limited. And here you were, homesick. Not even remembering fondly, but still you're torn with the desire to sleep in your bed again. Yours. Luna shakes her head, tone having made another leap to something akin to remorse.
"We haven't any idea how you've happened upon our world in the first place. There are no guarantees you can be returned from whence you came." By now, the winged pegasus has settled back down before the gently dancing flame. Front hooves cross, and a sullen expression crosses what you perceive to be a strangely charming facial features.
Your jaw tightens, as it so happens right on your tongue. You don't care. You might never see your world again. 'Die without regret,' that was one of the few principles you took truly to heart and believed. You always thought you were living life exactly how you wanted, that you'd not regret anything should you die tomorrow. You've been lying to yourself. You had family to love, friends to create and time to make in addition to dozens of other things. You had an education to further, but never the motivation to make any of it happen. Just you and your damned workouts. How does that even work? You're full of a lot of feelings, and none of them are good. What would you do if it truly turn out you could never return?
"What do I do?" Those were the only things you could muster from that pathetic mouth of yours.
Damn, you're pessimistic, work on that.
You don't even have the resolve to look up, your mind is too busy soaking up an irrefutable and life changing fact it'd encountered at random.
"Isn't it obvious?" Even though you might not know it, you're being given an expectant gaze, as though you're to answer her rhetorical question. "Make this place your new home."
Is she absolutely crazy? Absurdly insane? Positively mad? You're some sort of alien, one-of-a-kind in this strange new world, and you're to expect to fit in around here like a glove does on a hand. That's just silly... isn't it? It just hardly made sense, coming from a world up to here with prejudiced jackasses and bigoted super jackasses. This place would have to be some sort of utopia to seamlessly accept a never before seen hairless ape into their society of... talking horses, something before today you'd of never thought of as possible.
"Where would I even begin, though? I have nothing to my name but the clothes on my back." You're willing to listen, but it makes sense to present obvious problems with Night Horse's suggestion, as inviting as it is. To this, you're given a lovely little grin.
"'Tis as though thou don't expect us to have everything already figured out." A delicate laugh flutters into the air for a moment before her talking continues. "You may work in the castle as a guardspony. Here, you'll have food, shelter, and even some money to do with what you please. Besides, the Nightguard could do with extra staffing." She pauses, awkwardly coughing before continuing. "What say you... we don't believe we've happened upon your name?"
"A-...Anonymous," you stutter, processing for only a moment before proceeding to violently shake your head in agreement. Ten minutes of consciousness, and you've already been offered a job that not only provides pay, but food and shelter to boot! You'd have to be insane to pass something to fortunate up for any reason. "Yes, yes I'll take the job!" To think how fast your melancholy demeanor melted away to hopefulness.
"Anonymous, hmm? What an intriguing name, we like it."
"You can just call me Anon if you'd like." You offer a grin in hopes that she wouldn't stick to your full name. It always made you sort of squeamish, like when mother yelled at you for breaking that vase. How were you supposed to know your dog could jump that high when playing indoor fetch?
"Anon it is," said the mare, no hesitation in picking up the nickname. With that, she stood up. She really was bigger than the other ponies, nearly dwarfing the others you saw... whenever it was you were last awake. Still, she was only chest-height at best. "You shan't start your work until a later date. We must first acquaint you with our sister, Celestia. Tomorrow. The hour is late, and you would do well to get rest for the day that is to come." She gives you a nod before turning to head wherever it is princesses of the night go.
"But wait!" You can't help but interject before she's gone. "I've slept for... I don't really know how long. But I'm not tired. What do I do if that's the case?"
Now this gets her attention, as well as her eyes to widen to boot. "Well," she ponders aloud for a moment. "We've many duties to attend to as royalty; however, there is little to do this particular evening. There are always the stars to gaze upon, should you be interested." There's that smile again. It alone seems to warm you up, it's addicting. You probably shouldn't get used to this, but it couldn't hurt to indulge just a little longer.
You feel something of a splice between happy and sad. You remember the stars from home; knew every name of every constellation as a kid. You know you couldn't recall any of them now if your life depended on it, though. The stars here were no doubt different, but it only helped rekindle your love for deep space. "I would love to see them." You find that mare's smile to be infectious, you've got your own on now.
Before either of you two know it, you're out of the bed and being led through almost countless numbers of corridors to what you can only assume will be outside eventually. It could have been an hour of walking, or only a few minutes. Your perception of time is still pretty skewed for now.
Heavy oak weighs upon the hinges of a well kept door as it's pushed open, exposing you to a brisk evening air. You peer outside to see a balcony in your view. And is it a balcony, the damned thing spans nearly five meters in all directions from the door. You suddenly remember why you've come out here, only to inadvertently look upward and remember.
The magnitude of the nighttime sky astounds you to the point of speechlessness. The twinkling majesty of a thousand luminescent kingdoms, eons away, sprawls carelessly across the inky black canvas above. You think you heard Luna say something, but you're far too engrossed to register it. Instead, you find it a better option to take a few steps forward to get a better position. A right hand reaches upward, as though to pull a fistful of the fairy dust to you for closer inspection. Woe, your five digits draw together on naught but open air.
"Anon? Are you well?"
"Couldn't be better, princess," you answer after a moment's thought. You're not completely absorbed in the view anymore, just free enough to answer the furry critter to your right.
"It is to your liking, we take it?" You hear a faint giggle, and only respond with a sluggish nod. This night was already going to be impossible to forget, but it was definitely going down in the books now.
Hours pass. You find yourself laying down on the balcony with a now very familiar pony. She's the only one you've actually gotten a chance to converse with normally since arriving. It's done wonders for your sanity.
Several hours later.
"See how that sort of looks like a horse? Look, legs, hooves, a body and head."
"We... think we see it," said the mare, face warping and eyes squinting in an effort to make shapes out. "This is difficult, Anon."
"Yeah, I thought the same thing when I started learning about constellations back at home. It takes a lot of imagination, but I guess the people who came up with them didn't have much better to do than imagine things." You've sat here, talking to Luna for the past two hours about formations in the night sky back from where you're from. How they all meant different things to different people, and the stories associated with each. Funny how you'd never be able to find one, but still remembered almost all of the lore associated with such knowledge. It was just more interesting. "If I ever find myself with some free time, I might just start thinking of some for your world's night sky."
The two of you lay there content, just staring at the sky for a while longer. Given the distinct lack of watches or clocks, you figure you're going to have to learn how to tell time without. Fun. A groan leaves your body, same with several pops from your joints as your stretch. After what feels like a few hours of simply staring up, you raise yourself to your feet.
"Guess I've got a pretty big day ahead of me tomorrow, guess I should at least try my hand at some shut-eye."
Subtle smile still gracing her face, Luna gives you a nod of acknowledgement; though, she seems to know you probably won't be able to find your way back alone. And in a moment, she's standing as well. Wordlessly, the two of you begin to wander back into the darkened building in which you were previously asleep, each having thoughts of preparing for the following day to come.
And that's it for this chapter, whew. As much as I might want my Christmas wish to come true, my writing is not really the best, despite my efforts to proofread and all that fine jazz. Things are sort of boring right now, and not much is going on in the terms of action, adventure, or anything quite so thrilling. If you've managed to stomach what I've written so far, hopefully you'll be in for a treat when I get around to writing the next chapter! (:
Until next time on Story Names are for Plebeians! (Yay!)[/i][/u]