Part One - Unnamed

> It is a still, balmy night.
> From your prone position you turn your gaze upwards.
> Stars twinkle above upon a canvas of deepest blues and coldest blacks, drawing fresh constellations in your minds eye.
> Strange how the mind can focus upon such things unbidden.
> All in all, it's a nice night.
> Or it would be, but for one teeny coalition of problems.
> You are hurtling through the sky in a gold painted wooden box.
> It is two sizes too small for a human.
> There are no seatbelts.
> There are no seats.
> It's not all bad.
> There is a pilot.
> Unfortunately, he isn't in the vehicle.
> He's pulling it.

> You are sprawled upon the floor of a chariot, sincerely hoping that your feet and grasping hands have found enough purchase.
> Otherwise?
> One more maneuver at too sharp an angle and that'll be you pinwheeling away into the night with what's left of your luggage.
> Again, you prop yourself up and try to draw the attention of the white pegasus pulling this gilded skycoffin.
"Excuse me sir, are we close to our destination? Also, if it's not too much trouble, could we perhaps slow down a little?"
> That's what you tried to say.
"Abluhblu bla blooh!"
> The wind buffets your face mercilessly, garbling your words and tearing at your hooded cloak.
> Not that it'd have mattered if you could make yourself heard.
> After all, the sight of the ground rising at an alarming speed to meet you was enough to banish all linguistic capability.

> Being paralysed with fear sometimes has benefits.
> Firstly, when you body spontaniously decides to perform a preshow rehersal of rigormortis, you keep a fairly good grip.
> That's can be quite useful, when instinct would have you leap from your vehicle without considering the implications.
> Mass, speed, force and the splatter radius of a ripe, adult human in particular.
> Secondly, you pay attention to what's going on directly infront of you.
> In this case, that is the spectacular sight of a winged horse defying everything you thought you knew regarding inertia with contemptuous ease.
> He levels off at what to you seems like the last moment, shedding speed and gracefully lowering the chariot to the ground behind his now trotting form.
> A final stretch of his wings signals the end of your journey.
> With a popping of joints you pull your hands out of the freshly dug fingerholes in the woodwork.
> You dismount on still shaking legs, knocking your remnant luggage to the floor and take an immediate vow of pedestrianism.

> The chariot has set down near to a large tree, albeit one with windows and a door with picture of a candle etched into its surface.
> Is it a house of some kind?
> You have seen stranger homes in your short time here so far.
> No, the sign next to the door would indicate a library.
> The door begins to creak open a little and light from a knee high lantern spills out into the night.
> A short purple, green eyed... lizard? can be seen peering out of the crack in the door with a suspicious demenour.
> "Twilight? I think they're here." a serious tone colors his otherwise youthful voice.
> A noise of hooves on wooden floorboards approaches from behind the door.
> The door begins to open fully at the insistance of the approaching p0ny and with a small amount of reluctance from the dedicated, yet diminutive, lizard.
> "Good evening sir" she greets you with a formal, but genuinely friendly voice. "My name is Twi.."
> First things first.
> You step forward and clasp your arms around the neck of the pegasus.
> Are you going for a chinlock or a bro-hug?
> Truth told, you don't know either until you get there.
> Turns out it was a hug of gratitude and relief.
> That's nice.
> Trying to pull his head off would probably give a bad first impression to the p0ny in the doorway.
> Determined to get her practiced welcome rolling again, the librarian p0ny coughs and starts again.
> "Good evening sir. My name is Twilight Sparkle and I..."
> Nope.
> Hug still enaged.
> Never letting go of this glorious winged bastard.
> "Aww, he's affectionate, ain't he?" the lizard's voice softening to you a little, along with his attitude.
> "Sir?" the p0ny named Twilight asks again, tilting her head a little to the side.

> The pegasus looks over your shoulder towards your welcome party, a blush somehow coloring his pristine coat and a plea for help carved into his expression.
> His eyes scream for assistance but royal guard discipline holds his voice in check.
> The heat of his increasing embarrassment brings you back to your senses.
> You murmur a vague mix of apology and gratitude as you turn towards the library.
> The purple coated librarian looks at you with a mix of confusion and concern.
> Concern wins out.
> "Oh. You're shaking? Oh! was that your first time flying? you really shouldn't have worried. The royal guard are such well trained flyers..."
> Her voice gains speed as she continues explaining reasons why your ride of terror on the skycart of doom shouldn't have worried you in the slightest
> "...it was a small chariot, but I'm sure it was very sturdy and it is really one of the safest ways to..."
> This does nothing to supress your shudder as you hear the wheels spinning freely on their axel as the chariot lifts off on it's return flight.

> As Twilight continues her attempts to simultaniously reassure you and overpower your silly fear with logic, her horn begins to glow.
> A similar glow enshrouds your remaining luggage, lifts it into the air and unceremoniously plops it infront of the small lizard.
> "Spike, would you fetch our guest's luggage, please?" she interjects cheerily, glancing back towards the lizard with a smile.
> He picks up the travel chests with a grumble, balancing the lantern on top of one of them and holding a smaller bag in his teeth.
> The door he nudges shut with his tail as he continues his impromtu balancing act.
> Twilight continues by formally welcoming you to Ponyville, determined to use that practiced welcome speech whatever state you may be in.
> She pulls ahead of you slightly as you slow and begin to take in the view of the inside of her library and home.
> "... and of course, you will be staying here with us, but I'm sure you've had an... um... eventful journey? sir?"
> She smiles as she looks towards you, again though worry starts to creep into her eyes as her voice trails off"
> You're not sure if she's worried about your condition or if Princess Celestia will be disappointed that the guest she was supposed to show around Ponyville was broken in transit.
> Whichever it is doesn't concern you in the slightest as you marvel at how much space can be made for accomodation and work inside a blatently still living tree.
> A frantic knocking at the door, accompanied by spike fumbling one of your cases into a table,  breaks both of your silent reveries