A Visitor, ch. 1 -- /ntt/ 14/07/01

>You stirred.
>There was a strong light--sunlight, presumably--on your eyelids.
>And you were irritated; it had woken you from some rather enjoyable dreams.
>You tried your best to ignore it, but it continued to blare, mocking your pathetic efforts to sleep.
>Lightly, trying not to disturb your slumber any further, you tried to turn away, but your hips failed to rotate, as if a heavy weight were upon them.
>You groaned.
>There was no point in trying to get back to sleep anymore.
>You opened your groggy eyes, with which you could see little more than a bright blur.
>Slowly, the details of the scene came into focus.
>The white, peeling plaster ceiling you had known to be in your room since the first time you'd slept there was gone; in its place was a curious wooden ceiling, the grain running in long, sweeping arcs through it, as if it had been cut from a single piece of lumber.
>Your eyes wandering to your left, the familiar double-hung window replaced by a rather quaint, antiquated casement, candidly letting in the bright morning sun.
>Even in your drowsy state, one conclusion was becoming strikingly apparent:
>This wasn't your room.

>You tried to rub your eyes, but something bit into your wrists, holding them steadfast by your side.
>Trying to sit up, you found your torso and ankles similarly incapacitated.
>A chill ran down your spine, your previous sopor blasted from existence by a sheer, overwhelming wave of panic.
>Trying to quell your anxieties, you took a deep breath--the restraints there just loose enough to allow it--and recounted the situation.
>You didn't know where you were.
>You couldn't move.
>And you didn't know who did this to you.
>That last point was particularly concerning; you had very few friends, let alone enemies. Who in their right mind would abduct you and hold you captive?
>Still not fully lucid, a billion loosely-held theories burst forth, trying to fill in the gaps, as your eyes darted around the room for something--anything--that would give any of them credence.
>In a jarring juxtaposition, you found the surroundings quite homey: an expertly-crafted bookshelf filled to the brim with well-used books sat nearby, a small writing desk with quill and ink sat slightly across the way, its surface bearing some scattered paper and parchment, and some colorful pictures--paintings, most likely--were hung frugally about the walls, giving just the right balance of color.
>The walls themselves had the same, continuous grain as the ceiling, almost as if the whole room were cut from the inside of a single tree.
>But there was not a tree alive that could fit anything this size.
>It was incredibly alien; even amid the cozy environment, there was nothing of familiarity.
>And nothing to explain why you had been bound so tightly to this bed.
>A dull thud sounded, as if a door had shut.
>Two unintelligible voices--one distinctly female--emanated from a door at the far end of the room.
>The voices become more definite as footsteps approached on the far side of the portal.
>Your heart raced.

>In a panicked, last-minute decision, you decided to do the only thing you could safely do at the moment.
>You played dead.
>Cementing your eyes shut, you braced for the inevitable.
>The door unlatched and creaked open.
>"...and they don't know anything about it either, Spike." Said the female tone.
>"That IS strange..." Came from another voice, somewhat androgynous, though clearly young.
>"I've poured over every anatomy book, every natural history book, every single taxonomy I could find, and there was not one reference about this anywhere. I mean, look at this..."
>Though the voice was clearly on the other side of the room, you felt a sudden yank at the layer of covers just over you.
>A fresh, cool breeze came over you as the layer of insulation disappeared.
>It occurred to you that you had been stripped of clothing.
>"...there's a mammary gland, so it must be a mammal, but...that's all I've got. Every mammal I've ever seen or heard of is almost completely covered in thick fur, but this one...I don't know."
>"So...what are you going to do, Twi?"
>"The only thing I can do at this point: study it."
>There was a slight thunk as, believably, a few volumes of text fell upon a wooden surface.
>You tried to squint a bit, returning some unwelcome light to your weary eyes.

>There were two fuzzy blobs in your vision, both slightly different shade of purple; the smaller, darker one had some green highlights, whereas the larger, brighter one had blue and magenta highlights.
>Through your hindered vision, you couldn't make out proportions, but you were aware that they were far more colorful and shorter in stature than any person in your recollection.
>Something prodded your rib.
>Reflexively, you cringed away--however little you could--and opened your eyes wide toward the disturbance.
>Your gaze met with...
>with...
>...it looked like it might have been a lizard, if it weren't for those dinner-plate eyes.
>"Bwah!" Screamed the boyish voice, as the creature tumbled backward in terror.
>The other voice returned in a chiding demeanor. "Spike, I told you not to--"
>Your eyes met hers.
>Standing before you was a colorful, purple ungulate, something that would have resembled an equine were it not for a horn, ridiculously undersized wings, and the much smaller snout rounded by similarly humongous eyes, eyes which were now focused directly on you.
>A silence descended upon the room for what felt like years, not a single one of you electing to break the tension.

>Eventually, the startled...mare, you guess, choked out a small phrase.
>"Uhm...h--hello..."
"...hi..." Slipped from your mouth, almost unconsciously.
>The purple horse seemed a bit taken aback at your reciprocation.
>"Y...you can talk."
"...I can."
>You struggled to comprehend the absurdity of this situation.
>Not only had you found yourself kidnapped and bound in a totally unfamiliar residence, but you were now holding a two-sided conversation with something that looked like Pegasus and a unicorn had a pastel-colored offspring--while, of course, a baby-faced purple lizard looked on in awe.
>You were simply barren of words.
>"That will make some things a lot easier, actually," the equine remarked. "Come to think of it, I have a lot of questions about how a talking, hairless mammal can just suddenly appear in my abode, but I think I'll start off easy: just...what ARE you?"
"Uhhh..." You vocalized, shifting in the now-visible cords tethering your naked body.
>You were a lot of things.
>You were Anon.
>You were a human.
>You were 23 years and a few months of age.
>You were a college dropout.
>You were an only child.
>You were still tied to a bed.
>Still not quite clear on the intent of the question, you responded in kind:
"...I could ask you the same."

>The mare tilted her head to the side, not expecting the query, but she apparently decided to play along.
>"I'm...Twilight. Twilight Sparkle. And he," she said, pointing a vibrant hoof at the lizard-creature still sitting speechlessly to your side. "He's Spike."
>She was looking for names.
"I'm Anon." You said timidly.
>Twilight put on a false smile, failing miserably to conceal her nerves. "It's...wonderful to meet you, Anon."
>With that, she started a full-on assault of questions.
>You did what you could to primly answer each one, but, before you could get a word, much less a question, in edgewise, each answer you gave opened the floodgates to hundreds more.
>"Where did you say you lived?"
>"I've never heard of that; how do you find it?"
>"There's more like you there?"
>"How many? What do they look like? How do they live? How do they breed?"
>There was no stopping her rampant curiosity, so you decided to give her an ultimatum.
"I'd...love to answer that one, Miss Sparkle, but first..."
>You had her full attention; she was engrossed in your speech, hanging on your next words.
>You gestured your eyes toward your bound limbs.
>It took her a second, but her gaze eventually shifted. "Oh. Uhm..."
>She looked a little uncomfortable, glancing down, kicking up a little dust on her hoof.

>It was slowly becoming evident that you had arrived in her house, unconscious, without any apparent warning.
>You sympathized with her; what if she had done the same to your house? How would you know she wasn't going to go on a destructive rampage the minute she woke up?
>...Well, aside from the diabetes-inducing cuteness.
>That, and the first thing you'd probably do is leave and find a mental clinic instead of confronting a somehow unknown animal.
>"I...don't know..." She looked back up toward you with thinly veiled worry.
"Miss Sparkle, I promise you, I won't hurt you."
>She pursed her lips.
>It was your word versus her fears.
>She had never met you.
>She had no reason to believe you.
>You knew this probably wouldn't work out, but it was worth a shot.
>"Oh, alright." She stated in defeat.
>You were stunned.
"...really?"
>She trusted you already?
>"Just do exactly what I say, OK?" She glared at you.
"OK..." You said meekly.

>Without another word, she glanced at the ropes.
>You realized that there was an impasse.
>How was she going to undo them? How does a horse tie a knot? Did the lizard do it? Would--
>Her horn let out a gentle glow, soon followed by a glow of a similar color across the restraints.
>Almost simultaneously, each knot undid itself, each newly freed rope coiled into a neat helix, and drifted off toward the mare.
>You were dumbfounded.
>"Stay right there," Twilight commanded. "Now, you said you were going to answer me?"
>Her words were barely apparent to you.
"Wha...wh..."
>Twilight looked at you, tilting her head again, this time in utter confusion.
>"What? You've never seen magic before?"
"M...magic?"
>She had done that by herself?
>...
>If she could do that with rope, what could she do to you?
>Your imagination flooded you with all sorts of mental images, everything from erotic stimulation to being snapped in half like an underfoot twig.
>That last, unfortunately pervasive image left you in terror, the color draining from your face.
>"...Yes...magic." Her confusion doubled.
"You can just...do that?" You tried to spit out, at a notable loss of words.
>She lowered one eyebrow. "Not once? You've NEVER seen this?" She spoke incredulously.
"I've never seen a unicorn! I thought they weren't real!" You said rather loudly, gesticulating with your pleasantly released hands.
>"Not real..." she repeated, her skepticism replaced with befuddlement. "Where have you BEEN that you haven't ever seen a unicorn?"