Father Time has his way 2 [RGRE]

>You look across Equestria, standing on what you now knew was once your final resting spot.
>The rising sun far behind you, basking the land before you in a soft amber glow.
“If I were in a moody Indy film I'd totally be smoking a cigarette right now.”
>You smirk as you can hear the pony standing near you roll her eyes.
>”Whatever a 'moody Indy film' is, we doubt that in your world they'd have ponies in the same scene.”
>You smile wryly as you look briefly before turning to the Princess of the Moon.
>She's still a tiny thing, at least compared to her sister. Barely up to your waist, with a simple light blue mane.
“I'm glad you've learnt what a film is at least. Your cultural studies must be going well.”
>”They would be going better if we were not forced to drag you through Equestria. Through the entire world apparently.”
“You really think that I need more help than you outside these castle walls?”
>”You forget yourself Anonymous. My sister might treat you like fine china, but out there you will find the world a much harsher place.”
>How much of that is a genuine concern for your safety and manhood, and how much is her slightly biased and unfavourable view of the world you could not say.
“It is better to break a teapot and glue it together than to never have used it at all.”
>”Your metaphors are as singularly painful as they have always been.”
>You cough to hide a giggle.
“Yeah, well... At least I can talk in the first person.”
>You smack the tiny Alicorn Goddess in the back of the head, and she quickly does the same with a bolt of magic. It actually stings, and you briefly worry she might have burnt some of your hair off.
>Once you confirm that was not the case you lean against the railing.
>”Are you ready?”
>You turn to the diminutive Princess of the Night.
“Are you?”
>”We have packed, if that is the meaning behind your base question. If your question meant 'Are you prepared to undertake this journey into a world you have not seen for a thousand years' Our answer may be... Less certain.”
>You smile softly and pat the small Alicorn on the head, but she quickly throws off your hand with her telekinesis.
>”And you?”
“If you mean have I packed? Yes. If you mean have I plotted a journey? Yes. If you mean am I ready to find out exactly who I was once... No. I never will be.”
>”You know, there is only so much talking in circles one ought to do in a day.”
>You chuckle to yourself.
“That sounds right. We'd best be off then.”
>You turn away from the balcony and make begin to make your way back inside the marble citadel, but something grips your shoulder and stops you.
>You glance towards your shoulder to confirm that Luna has gripped your shoulder in her azure telekinetic grip.
“Hmm?” You ask without turning around.
>”You really ought not to go without saying goodbye to my sister.”
>You mentally smack yourself as you slowly turn around, a calm smile on your face.
“I hadn't forgotten. But I'm sure she has other duties to attend to this morning far more important and interesting than me.”
>Luna send you a withering look.
>”You're a fool of the highest order Anonymous.”
>You squint briefly at her before relaxing into a grin.
“I'll see her before we go. Are you able to teleport by the way? I saw Twilight do that once or twice and I figured it would cut down travel times significantly.”
>”We... Can try. We aren't fully ourselves yet.”
>You nod your head. You understood her. She didn't look like her sister but dark and edgy yet, so she must be still weak from a thousand years on the moon. In the moon?
“Well. Try not to teleport us into a mountain. I'll say goodbye to Celestia. If you have anything you need to do...”
>”We'll be ready. We hope you shall be as well.”

~#~

>The door guards, still shooting you angry looks, decide to just move aside this time and allow you to pass without comment or incident.
>”And of course, Raven, we should prepare for my trip to...”
>You hear her divine voice pause and feel her magenta eyes fall upon you. As you look up and return her sight.
>”That will be all for now Raven. If you wouldn't mind.”
>The raven-haired mare shot you and the Princess a strange look before bowing ever so slightly and trotting past you.
>When you hear the grand double doors that you came through close shut you begin to speak.
“Luna hid it well, but she has not taken you volunteering her for this well.”
>Celestia smiles softly and trots towards you.
>”It is for her benefit as well as yours. You can't experience the world from within these marble walls.”
>You watch her glance around the throne room, and as her eyes fall upon the golden tapestries and the great marble columns. For a brief moment, you saw an unbearable sorrow pass across her ancient face. She saw those pillars as bars. This great throne room of opulence and decorum a prison.
>For half a heartbeat you wanted to reach out to her and pat her on the back. Do something to support her. But she was the Monarch of a great and powerful country, it's sole ruler for a thousand years. What possible consolation could you have offered for her?
>You could not offer to take her along, for she had her duties that Luna did not. You could not stay here.
>And yet, she tempts you.
>”Anon. I implore you. Your research into your other lives can be far more easily done within the Canterlot archives than...”
>You smile softly and shake your head.
“I could. But I cannot divine meaning or purpose from ancient writings. Only by experience might I learn who I was. Why I am.”
>”... I will miss you Anonymous.”
>You did not entirely expect that. You knew her only for a few weeks. But then again, she knew you for a lifetime.
“I will try not to die Celestia. I feel we have had this conversation before.”
>You try to smile, to cheer up the Goddess of the sun. But she stares into your eyes with such guilt and mourning you can barely maintain that same smile.
>”That should hardly surprise either of us at this point. I do not wish to have this conversation with another Anonymous again. I want you to live a long life of joy and security.”
>Your lips turn up slightly a sad smile growing on your face as you place your hand upon her head.
“It is too late for that now. I cannot ignore what I am. I must simply find out what that is.”
>”I know. You are Anonymous. You are you.”
“I am I.”
>You run a hand through her ethereal mane as she slightly leans into it.
>”Manehatten first?” She asks as you pat her neck.
“Yes. Follow Brightsmile for a bit, see if we can find out where and when he appeared exactly and use that to try and work out who I was before him.”
>”You will write? Won't you?”
>You're touched by her concern, and the hint of joy returning to her voice.
“I will. I'll make sure Luna writes as well. Though she may not take my advice on that matter.”
>She titters slightly as you scratch under her chin, happy she's smiling again.
>”You two will have to work out your issues.”
>Your issue? She didn't kill you. Well, she did, but it was another you. All she did to you was break your ribs, imprison you, cut you and make you remember dying.
>All right, maybe you might have some issues there, and you simply were good at pushing them aside. You did have other problems to worry about after all.
“We'll try. Worst comes to worst, she can just kill me and I'll forget all about it.”
>Celestia moves away from your hand and glares at you.
>You laugh softly to yourself
“Sorry. It's how I'm dealing with all this. Humour, you know? It's all I really have.”
>She did not like to be reminded of your own mortality it seemed. You moved a strand of hair from over her eyes.
>”I know. Would it annoy you if I said you were always like that?”
>She smiles softly, and you fight down the anger in your gut.
“Not at all.” You lie.
>You take one last look around the throne room. Perhaps the last time you would be here for a while.
“I'll miss you too.” You whisper quietly.
>”Hmm?”
>You fight the heat burning your cheeks. You were not one for honesty.
“For what it's worth, you've been a great boss. I hope when this is all over I could work beneath you again.”
>A red glow spreads across her face as she nods quietly.
>”And I would not mind having you beneath me.”
>You raise an eyebrow as somehow the fire beneath her skin grow even more furious.
>She coughs and collects herself, no doubt aware how that sounded now and wishing to correct her mistake.
>”Working beneath me.”
>You smirk.
“Good to hear.”

~#~

“You ready?”
>You turn to Luna, concentrating furiously with her teal eyes forced shut. Her horn glows with energy, sparking against any nearby metal, like her own jewellery, your watch or the nearby door hinges within her room. You hold your massive bag over your back tighter.
>”Must you interrupt our thoughts? One errant idea or thought and we might find ourselves a hundred miles above the ground, or even in the aether above the atmosphere.”
>You smirk, even as you begin to terror sweat.
”Well, you'll probably survive both of those. No sweat off your back.”
>She opens her eyes to look at you, concerned for a moment, before being forced to squeeze them shut again as her horn lights up even more. You take a step closer, just in case half of you isn't in range of the teleport and only half of you travels with her.
>All is white for a moment. You lose all feeling of space and time. Your skin crawls, your breath is nearly sucked from your lungs as you briefly find yourself within a featureless void. Around you there is nothing. You reach out and to your horror you find your right arm touching your left even as you reach out to your right. As if space was looping back on itself just beyond your body.
>And just as soon as you found yourself in that place, reality collapses around you and a thin beam of light and sound rushes towards you, stretching the edges of the white void as it comes closer and closer, until finally.
>You smack into what feels awfully like concrete.
“Ah, son of a!”
>You growl and rub your inflamed ribs, stinging just where that fucking nightmare horse kicked you a few weeks ago.
>And speaking of the devil, you spot her out of the corner of your eye gracefully flapping her wings to lower herself to the concrete.
“Cunt.”
>The tiny horse casts one last spell and her wings seem to disappear before she turns to you.
>”What was that?” She asks, her tone making it clear she fucking heard you.
“Nothing.” You growl as you push yourself off the dirty concrete beneath your body.
>You take in your new surroundings.
>They could not be more different than the dark opulent bedroom of Princess Luna.
>This was an Equestria you had yet to see, in this life at least.
>Far from the marble brilliance of Canterlot, the Rustic charm of Ponyville or the shadowed ruins of the Everfree, this place was a dirty back alley, littered with rubbish. To your dismay, it reminded you of home. A home you could not be sure even...
>Less of that Anon. Introspection is to be had never. Thinking too hard would only bring darkness again.
>As you stand up straight you cannot help but notice your travelling partner looking you up and down, seemingly deep in thought.
>You place one of your hands against your hip.
“Take a picture, it would last longer.”
>”Please, we could not think of a less desirable partner. Our thinking was you might be overdressed for this place.”
>You look down at your clothes. A waistcoat of white and gold above a white shirt, dark grey suit trousers. Black shoes. Dark socks.
“You may have a point. Perhaps I should get more casual...”
>”We meant wearing too many. You might attract undue attention.”
>You cock an eyebrow at that, wait to see if she is serious, then step towards her and flick her snout.
“Fuck that. Let's get to the hotel.”
>As you walk out towards the street, watching the crowds walk past she trots alongside you, a near murderous look in her teal eyes.
>”Do you speak like that to my sister?” she growls.
“No. She has never asked me to strip. Nor has she killed me before.”
>At least, you were pretty sure of those two things.
>”Times have changed. We've been reading on what has changed since our banishment a thousand years ago.”
>The two of you reach the street, and after a moment of you pointedly looking at her for directions to whatever hotel it was she had booked she leads you to the right, dodging and weaving through the crowd, apologising to the small horses as you loomed twice as tall as them.
“Have they? Can't say I've noticed.”
>”You wouldn't remember... You're mocking us aren't you?”
>As you weave through the crowd looking up at you in bemusement or confusion you smile to the hidden Princess.
>”What we mean is that it is strange for a male to be so overly dressed. It is a sign of impropriety.”
>You chuckle.
“God forbid I seem improper. Truly, how will I ever manage the social pressure of a bunch of tiny horses looking at me strangely. They are going to anyway... What's your fake name again?”
>Luna rolls her eyes.
>”Moonlight Shadow.”
>You were pretty sure that was a song.
>No, you weren't going to sing it.
“Well anyway, Moonlight. How far till the hotel?”
>The annoyed Alicorn disguised as a Unicorn sighed and tried to trot further ahead of you, forgetting that you had longer legs and therefore took
>GREAT STRIDES

~#~

>Of course, in the end, you had to follow her. You were well aware you were a stranger in a strange land. Feeling thousands of eyes follow you walking down the street was a far call from the few fleeting glances you got when you were in Canterlot, or even Ponyville.
>As the two of you marched through the doors of The Ritz-Colton, looking over Central Park, you espied the desk.
>You made your way over, shotting a winning smile you could barely hope to maintain for long and spoke to the cute pony behind the desk.
“Hi. Sorry to bother...”
>”Don't be.”
>You do not like those bedroom eyes, nor the way she's leaning forwards and trying to puff up the fluff on her chest.
>Well, it's cute, but still...
“Thanks. Is there a reservation under the name 'Anonymous and Moonlight Shadow'?”
>Luna trots over and hefts her two front limbs over the edge of the desk.
>The Receptionist immediately turns to Luna.
>”Ah. The Mare in the group. Yes, there is a reservation under that name.”
>You hold back a sigh. Completely ignoring you now, the two ponies talk for a few moments confirming the room. Two rooms.
>Both free, both paid at the expense of the Royal coffers.
>Your foul mod lifts slightly as you realise that the old cliché of their only being one room hasn't happened.
>The bag around your feet is lifted into the air by a unicorn dressed as a bell... Bellmare? That sounds weird. Whatever, hopefully she's just taking it to your room and nothing more.
>You glance away from the receptionist desk, away from the old-timey elevators and from the hallway and spot a bar.
>As Luna's own bags are taken away you stare into her eyes for a moment before nodding your head to the bar.
“We aren't going to get any work done today. Do you want to grab a drink?”
>She mutters something beneath her breath, sighs, and nods her head.

~#~

>Count how many you've had.
>One Shot! Aha!
>Four shots! Aha!
>Seven Shots! Aha!
>Twelve shots!
>Perhaps you ought to take a break.
>You pull your face off of the table, nearly skinning yourself in doing so given how sticky the table is and wincing as Alcohol gets into your face scar.
>Ignoring the strained and embarrassed look Luna has upon her face, you lean back into the chair slightly.
>Time stretches before you as slowly the outside world tunes out. The low roar of conversation and drinking, eating and joy around you fades into a ringing inside your head.
>The false elation that comes with drink slowly fades from your face.
>And for just a few moments, you feel the weight of eternity bearing down on you. Your hands begin to shake.
>You blink.

>And there you are. Sitting in the chair opposite you. No. Not you. This man is older by maybe one or two years. He doesn't have the scar on his cheek.
>”Come then. Let's play.” The simulacrum of you says as he shuffles a deck of cards.
>His voice is your own, but haughtier.
>”You'd best pray your luck doesn't run out hyuman. You've got a lot riding on this.”
>The copy, the false image that you cannot tear away from simply laughs again.
>And the card game begins.
>As this other Anonymous deals them out quickly you watch as the ponies he's playing against study his every move. No doubt it was strange to watch his fingers glide across the cards, but their looks are not of curiosity. But suspicion.
>”Big Sally won't take kindly to no cheatin'.” One of the mares says. You could not say whom through the shadow of drink and the veil of time.
>”Big Sal should learn to talk in the first person. And to watch my hands.” This other you challenges again, a wry smirk growing on his face.
>The game mostly passes in a blur, but you have noticed the growing pile of chips between your copy's arms.
>As has his opponents. Their growing anger and rapidly disappearing drinks make clear.
>Eventually, it seems there is only a single pile left. Owned by the only human within your vision.
>”Well Gentlemares. Good game. Perhaps next time you'll...”
>You, both versions of you, flinch as the pony previously referred to as Big Sally leaps across the table, broken whiskey glass in hand.
>Other Anonymous stands up, but not fast enough as the glass cuts across his cheek. The other ponies get up, improvised weapons in hand. There are six of them there, but not all are looking to attack your copy. Most look confused.
>Big Sally tries to stand up upon the table, but your copy flips it with the Pony still atop.
>As poker chips and an Earth pony fly into the air the room seems to fall into pandemonium.
>You half expect guns to be drawn, but you're pretty sure they don't exist here. Instead, your copy seems to retreat slightly, gripping his bleeding cheek in hand.
>Sally gets up off the floor, dazed and confused for only a moment, before snarling and rushing towards your copy. Other Anonymous launches a kick into her snout, knocking her back.
>”Son of a...”
>An ace and a king fall from his sleeves, and somehow this is seen by the other players of the game.
>The confusion that was previously on their faces is quickly replaced by anger, and your copy grins wryly before opening his arms and shouting:
>”Abra Cadabra!”
>That's when the fighting really starts.
>Kicks, punches and far too much biting for a civilised fight ensues, and Phantom pain rings through your body with every kick to your chest or all the bites on your legs.
>Your copy uses everything he can get his hands on. Wine bottles, pepper shakers, chairs and even tables to put between him and the six furious mares trying to kill him.
>One lunges for his neck and successfully sends him plummeting to the floor. As he smacks his head against the oak panelling beneath him by reflex his forehead collides with the mare's, knocking her out cold.
>Through what looked like a concussion he stands back up, and charges angrily towards the remaining ponies. Two make to flee, cutting their loses. Not willing to get injured for Big sally.
>The others...
>You swore you drunkenly closed your eyes only for a moment, but by the time you open them the four of them are splayed out on the floor, and your copy is there. Coughing and wheezing, gripping his chest and hunched over, but alive and conscious.
>He rifles through the debris to collect his winnings, the gold watches, bits and any portable wealth he can find. Before the Hotel staff can rush him and kick him out he drops a sack of bits on one of the few tables standing nearby.
>”Hope that covers all this.”
>And with that, he limps his way out of the bar.

>The ringing in your head fades, and you snap back to reality.
>Something is shaking your shoulders, and taste iron in your mouth.
>”Sir?”
>Shaking your head clear and coughing into your hand, you turn to the Pegasus shaking you awake.
“I'm all right.” You swear, patting the mare on the head for looking out for you and reaching for another glass of horse whiskey, a smug drunken smile on your lips.
>You barely notice the bloody fingerprint left on the glass after you finish your drink and turn to Princess Luna.
>She watches you look giddy at apparently having a seizure for a few moments, but only has an eyebrow raised, waiting patiently for an explanation.
“I've been here before.”
>Luna shrugs for a moment, before realising what exactly that meant for you.
>”As in...”
>You nod your head.
“Let's see what we can find out about Brightsmile.”


~#~

>Honestly, you expected the central and grand library of Manehatten to be... Well, lit better. Instead, it's all dark corridors of books lit by the odd oil lantern, a few chairs and tables by cindering fireplaces, librarians moving like spectres between the rows upon rows of ancient and modern tomes.
>Being taller than most of the bookcases, you could see over them into the endless sea of dark, broken only by small night fires to stand against the omnipresent dark.
>Which was weird, given it was eleven o'clock during July. It would have been earlier, but you had to work through a hangover and Luna was a late riser.
>The two of you grabbed a table near a smouldering fireplace, and as you awkwardly tried to sit down in the too small chair Luna leaned on the table and turned to you.
>”So. What is the plan?”
>You grunt as you decide to just sit cross-legged on the floor and turn to her.
“Right. We are going to check the Newspaper archives. We know that I appeared here fifty-seven years ago or thereabouts, so we'll read the 943 PLB local papers and see if we can find any weird mention of a stallion by the name of Brightsmile appearing from nowhere.”
>”Right. Of course. Because any mention of you being a human or your name will be changed to that...”
“And while my appearing from nowhere might have been newsworthy, it would be weird for just a normal Stallion making the news, so we'd know we've found me.”
>Luna looked up for a moment and sighed.
>”This is going to be quite boring.”
>You titter quietly, so as not to get the attention of the librarians who you weren't entirely sure weren't the undead chained to this place.
“Absurdly boring. Do you want the first or last six months of that year?”
>”We'll take the latter half.”
“Suit yourself.”

~#~

>You awaken.
>And fuck does everything fucking hurt.
“Arggh! Son of a!”
>”What the heck!”
>You ignore that foreign light voice as your body feels like its being stitched back together, one sinew and muscle at a time.
>Behind all the pain and the ringing in your ears you hear the pitter patter of footsteps and something touch you.
>And as that happens, the pain seems to leave your body. You realise you are face down on a wooden floor.
“Little help?”
>The touch of... You hesitate to call it a hand leaves your back and instead grabs one of your arms and weakly tries to heft you up, succeeding only in pulling at your shirt.
>You roll your eyes and push your hands against the floor and heave, launching your body off the floor.
>As you stumble back onto your feet, you take in your surroundings fully.
>Standing before you is a tiny technicolour pony, who looks half terrified and half curious at your current state. Its giant eyes boring into your soul. You stand there, in shocked silence, for a few moments. And then the creature opens its mouth.
>”What are you?”
“Holy shit. A talking horse!”
>”Horse?”
>You step back from the creature.
“Hey hey hey... Where the fuck am I?”

>It took a few minutes for the 'Mare' or 'Gleamshine' to calm you down enough to hear her out.
>From what you could gather in between spouts of hyperventilating and sipping on beer to calm your nerves, you were somewhere called 'Manehatten' in the Country of Equestria.
>Currently you were shaking on her couch in her creaky wooden apartment apparently near the docks of the city, having appeared as if by magic in her room
>”Can I ask you a few questions?”
>You turn to the inquisitive pony, looking up at you with her enormous brown eyes.
“...Sure.”
>”What are you?”
>You sigh as you take another sip of beer to calm yourself down.
“I'm a human being. Do they not have men like me in this place?”
>The cute tiny horse shakes her head.
“Well... fuck.”

~#~

“Found it.”
>Luna drags her head off the table, her horn piercing a fifty-year-old newspaper.
>She trots tiredly around to your shoulder and exhaustedly places her head on your shoulder to look over it. You gently pull the newspaper off her horn and point to the other one in your hand.
“Right here. A shame I'm relegated to page 3 but...”

>April 10th
>Yesterday, a young homeowner by the name of Gleamshine reported to us that a Stallion by the name of Brightsmile suddenly appeared in her room. The Stallion is described as having four hooves, standing at four feet high and is fully capable of speech. Biologists from across Equestria have stated their intent to study the perfectly normal stallion, but he and Gleamshine have requested he has some time to get used to the city.
>The black and white photo was of a young mare beaming happily and a slightly confused Stallion standing next to her. Strangely, the framing of the photo suggested it was taking a photo of a taller figure.

>Luna broke the silence, her right eye turning slightly to look at you.
>”Reading these obviously edited words is a strange experience.”
“Tell me about it.”
>”So. We know the date you...”
“Just call him me or Brightsmile, it will make talking about this a lot easier.”
>Luna lifts her head off your shoulder and trots back to her own chair.
>”We know the date that Brightsmile appeared. How does that help you?”
>You grit your teeth and think on this for a few seconds.
>To be honest, this whole trip idea had been just to get...
>Wait.
“Do you think this 'Gleamshine' might still be alive?”
>You pass the paper over to Luna, who doesn't look overly amused.
>”We don't know. Perhaps. Perhaps not. What does it...”
”We need to find her. Find this place I appeared in over half a century ago.”
>”Right... And why will that help you?”
“Better than anyone else, even Celestia, if She's alive she'll know enough about me as I was when I arrived here.”
>Luna looks at you strangely for a moment, a raised eyebrow on her face.
>”That only happened to you. You you, a few weeks ago. Shouldn't you know yourself.”
>You wince from the question, sigh, and look to her pleadingly.
“Can I ask you something?”
>”...Perhaps.”
“Are you Nightmare Moon?”
>Luna rolls her eyes at the question and a low growl forms in her throat.
>”We told you. That was a foul spirit that...”
“Is it? That's awfully convenient for you. To fog off your sins onto this malevolent spirit, this demon.”
>”And what of you Anonymous? Are you guilty of the crimes of these other lives? Was it you that betrayed us for our sister?”
>You laugh bitterly.
“Betrayed you as you sought to plunge the world into eternal darkness? Oh what a foul crime.”
>”You betrayed our trust!”
“Why did you even ask that of me? What possible reason did you have to ask a normal human to stay out of that conflict?”
>”That was Nightmare Moon. Not us!”
“Then how do I know I was really Brightsmile!”
>The words left your mouth before you could stop them. Before you could think.
>”What... What do you mean?”
>You sigh and run a hand through your hair.
“I know I dream of it. Brightsmile. Nergúi or whoever. But I don't... Really know for certain if it's the same Anonymous reborn each time. I don't even know if Anon really existed before I came to this place.”
>Luna leans forwards slightly, genuine interest and slight confusion replacing her anger.
“Right. So... So I have memories of my time before here right? But they are vague. I could tell you I had a mum and dad. I could tell you perhaps that I speak with an English accent. But I couldn't point out England on a map. Nor tell you the colour of my mother's hair.”
>You wince slightly as you admit this.
“I... I don't think I could tell you who Anonymous is. He's a human, male, about 23 years old. But the rest... It's like there's a fog. If I am all these Anonymous' throughout history maybe... Maybe enough of them lived long enough to forget things. And once I start to forget... Maybe there's no way to get that back.”
>The concern grows on Luna's face as she leans slightly closer towards you.
>”You don't remember before you came here?”
“No. I do. I know I had a life before. I remember bits and pieces. A house. Snow. A dinner that I might have missed. But it's... It's like a dream.”
>You cough slightly.
“It's a big reason why I never held on too tight to the whole hallucination explanation for why I am here. Because this place feels more real than the place I think I came from.”
>The two of you sit there in solemn silence for a few moments.
>”I can't remember much before I became Luna. Princess of the night. I haven't much to hold onto in my past. There's a sister I loved once. A crown I bore. But the days and nights bleed into one another. I watched ponies live and die, and yet I remained.”
“Is it that you just want to forget?”
>”Is that the case for you?”
>The question makes you pause.
“I don't know. I want to remember. I want to know who I am. In this place. And in that other place.”
>”Then so do I. I want to hold onto what I have.”
“Perhaps we shouldn't? Perhaps we should let go and just make new memories? And accept that when the time comes, we will just have to let those go as well?”
>”We owe it to those who remember us to try and hold on.”
“Celestia.”
>Luna nods quietly.
“Let's... Let's see if Gleamshine is still alive.”
>You move to stand, and Luna hops off the chair before the two of you share another look with each other.
“Thanks. I needed to get that off my chest.”
>She shrugs in return.
>”I... We think we both did.”

~#~

>It took nearly a full day of searching the archives of Manehatten city hall, 'Moonlight Shadow' using a pass that she had 'somehow' gotten from one of the Princesses to let the two of you search them.
>Boring, tedious, eye-straining work that it was, it was still your best lead so far. And eventually, somewhere in that darkness between coffee number 6 and coffee number 7, between the two of you sharing some veggie tacos. Something that you had never tried in this life, and something Luna never had, the two of you found a name.
>Gleamshine. Aged about 77. Living somewhere in Fillydelphia.
>You ran a hand through your lengthening hair, aware you need to get it cut soon.
>If, you know, you live long enough for that.
“Fillydelphia. A shame to give up the hotel room so soon.”
>”Uh huh.”
>You glance towards Luna, who is barely able to stay conscious.
“Boredom or tiredness?”
>”That is no concern of yours.”
>Shaking your head, you place the file beneath your armpit and sit back down opposite the mare, the two of you lit by the cold white sterile glow of the lamp between you.
“Why don't you go? Back to Canterlot I mean.”
>Luna drags her head off the table and looks into you. You can see your reflection in her large teal eyes. The shape of you, brittle, but still whole for now.
>”We can't. Our sister made us swear to look after you.”
“What danger might I be in? We've spent two days searching through archives and books. Newspapers and Reports. Hardly dangerous work.”
>”It was not the external that our dear sister feared.”
>A sad smile stretches your lips ever so slightly, and a low sigh passes between them as you glance down to your hands for a moment before returning to the moonlight princess.
“I'm not going to...”
>You sigh, relenting slightly. You had told Celestia herself you weren't going to give in that easily.
>And yet here was her sister. Clearly Celestia was still afraid of that outcome. It would hardly affect her though. She must've watched you die half a dozen times already. And those had been you with far longer, more important lives. You, this time, had only been here for two months. You could go, and not even she would miss you. Not really. She might have said she would.
>But that was for your benefit. She must've seen millions of her subjects live and die for the past thousand years. You were just another in a long line. Even better, if you did go you'd be replaced by a happy version of yourself. It was a win-win for the Princess.
>So why was Luna here?
“Do you want to grab a drink or something? I don't know. I don't feel like we can keep working together if we just remind each other what the other has done?”
>”I am not Nightmare Moon.”
“And in that same sense I am not Nergúi, we've been over this. That doesn't matter.”
>You sigh and insist.
“I think we need to clear the air between us. A few drinks.”
>”Is that not what we had back in the Hotel two days ago?”
>You chuckle.
“That was just me trying to get drunk as quickly as possible. This will be having drinks with each other, not drinks next to each other.”
>”We are not well versed in modern drinking culture.”
“Oh, It can't be that different from a thousand years ago. I mean, how was it back then?”
>Luna coughs and sits up straight.

>She begins to speak in a low, serious voice.
>”There is a small island in the southern Sea called Mareeriki, upon which I owned a large manse. Every year after the first rain, the Newport Beach Wine Society (of which we were a member) gathered at our manse to watch the island's natives grovel in the mud as their pathetic straw dwellings are ripped apart by the rising waters. On this island, there is also a fish, called a Piranha Giganticus. Coinciding with the first rain, this fish swims into the flooded island and began to feed on the older and weaker natives of Mareeriki. Unable to defend themselves from the killer fish and utterly helpless, the natives made their way to our manse in makeshift canoes. At this point, the Newport Beach Wine Society opens a bottle of pre-Equestrian Prench Chardonnay, dated no later than 200 BLB, and places wagers on which native will be the first to reach the high ground of our sprawling lawn. Once the fish has fed and returned to the Sea, there are typically a handful of natives left on our lawn, at which point we activate the magical fence and release the crocodiles. Last time, during the crocodile feeding, a tiny speck of native flesh was flung from the lawn up to the balcony where the Newport Beach Wine Society was gathered and landed on our hoof. We retrieved the piece of flesh and placed it in our mouth, washing it down with a glass of Griffonstone Pino Griggio. That was the kind of drinking we were used to.”
>For a moment you are struck by the monstrosity of the pony before you, before noticing a slight wry grin growing on her lips.

>”That was a joke.”
>You are still struck into silence.
>A giggle escapes your throat, growing rapidly into a full gut-busting laugh.
“ Ahaha. Son of a...”
>You wipe a tear from your eye.
>”We must insist we have never...”
>Her cheeks begin to glow red, perhaps fearing you actually thought she was a cannibal.
>You're still unable to contain your laughter as you slap the table, worrying only briefly that you might drop the file.
>”We insist! We did not... Would not...”
>Her worried rushed tone finally stops you.
“I believe you, don't worry.”
>You smugness cannot be contained.
>Moving to stand, you make your way over to the small Princess of the Night and slap her on the back just between where her two wings should be.
“Come on. Let's grab a real drink. On...”
>You check your stipend you got from Celestia.
>Eh, you might not live long enough to spend it all.
“On me.”
>Luna watches your face for a few seconds, trying perhaps to work out the meaning behind your offer, before she shrugs and hops out of the chair, levitating her empty mug of coffee with her.
>”If you insist. Typically the mare pays.”
“This isn't those sort of drinks.”
>”You know, the Anonymous we knew never rejected free drinks.”
>You chuckle as you move out of the dusty basement towards the surface.
“First time for everything I suppose. Perhaps as I get older I become a cheap bastard.”
>Luna huffs.
>”We wish you would. The bill for any diplomatic meeting between yourself, my sister and the Griffon ambassador accounted for 4% of the treasury.”
>The two of you walk out of the Manehatten archives for citizenship or some other title you could not be bothered to remember and onto the evening Manehatten streets. It was here, in the night air, with the odd electric lights, some of the only of their kind, that you could close your eyes and try and remember home.
>You do so for a few moments, changing the sound of hoofbeats for footsteps, the crisp clean air for smog, the warm summer glow of night for the chill of home. Without opening your eyes you speak.
“Let's find somewhere cheap.”
>”Maybe you've just always been a cheap bastard Anonymous.”
>Smacking the pony in the back of the head, you make your way down the busy streets, hoping to find a dive to drink in.

~#~

>And what a dive you found. It didn't have a sign out front, which where you were from you vaguely remembered being the sign of a hipster joint. Indeed, when you initially passed the threshold and stepped inside you feared it was such a place.
>Tacky 'artsy' decorations, scarf wearing ponies writing on typewriters, comparing their never to be finished novels and screenplays.
>But to your surprise and delight, and Luna's surprise and dismay, you were instead struck by the sight of ponies already drunk by five in the evening, dark stains on the walls and ceilings, a bar that had a cannon behind it that looked like it had been fired recently. Perhaps to throw an unruly customer out.
>Perhaps to kill them.
>So, yeah, exactly your kind of place. Especially after two months of fine dining and eating in the kitchen with the other workers in the castle.
“Come on, there's two stools at the bar.”
>You say this despite knowing that that barstool comes up to your thighs and you'd be staring right into the beam above the bar. But a seat was a seat. A bar stool was at least close to the correct size of a normal chair for you.
>Luna doesn't look so sure, and the odd drunken looks the other patrons are shooting her and especially your way do little to assure her, but eventually, perhaps after a moment of soul searching, she complies.
>”What d'ya want?” Asks the surly barmare behind the bar.
>you smile, reaching into your pocket and drawing a few bits.
“A pint of...”
>You realise that here you knew of none of the brands of beer, nor anything like that.
>Awkwardly you turn to Luna, who's growing smug grin allows you to work out she has worked this out.
>You don't want to just order a pint of beer like a fucking noob, but...
>”He'll have a pint of Cowsburg. We'll...”
>You elbow the small princess pretending not to be one.
>”I'll have a glass of Griffonstone Pino Griggio.”
>The barmare huffs.
>”We don't serve that stuff here. Beer or liquor. No wine.”
>'Midnight shadow' huffs a little, sighs, and asks for.
>”A pint of cowsburg as well then.”
>Two pints are poured and placed in front of you, and the two of you wrestle with each other and your wallets to pay for the drink.
>Her horn nearly reopens the scar on your cheek in the fight, but height and hands gave you the advantage as you push her head against the bar-top and almost throw your money at the barmare.
>You ignore the interested and frightening looks of the other mares at the bar and take a victory sip of your beer.
>And almost immediately spit it out.
“Jesus! I wouldn't feed this to a horse!”
>You glance around, remembering where you were and apologise as you shoot Luna a dark look. After she removes her head from the bar she takes her own sip and winces.
>”We do not remember it being this bad.”
>The Barmare begins to shoot the two of you an evil look.
>”You two trying to say something?”
“No no no!” The two of you stress.
>Eventually she takes your pleas for a reprieve for an answer and moves on to serve someone else.
“Why the hell would you order this?”
>”Believe us, it was better a thousand years ago. You loved this stuff.”
>You shake your head, mostly out of an attempt to get the mouldy taste out of your mouth.
>”Are you going to ask for another one?”
“What am I? Fourteen and having my first drink? Don't start what you can't finish.”
>You take another swig and nearly puke from the taste alone.
>But you grin and bear it.

>Your next few pints were much nicer. You allowed Luna to order them because quite frankly you were more lost than she was. Turns out being a literal alien trumped a thousand years of exile when it came to culture clashes.
>Only barely, however. Luna might be able to actually pick beers, but her ordering was a show in and of itself. Switching from first to third person mid-sentence, from high Canterlot accent to an appalling attempt at what you might have charitably called a Brooklyn one.
>But, she was able to order them. The Barmare refused your attempts at ordering pints and kept trying to replace them with Appletinis.
>Still, sipping gently from your fifth pint and Luna's fourth, you could charitably say you were both tipsy at this point.
“So what was I like? You know, a thousand years ago.”
>”Hmm?” Asks Luna as she tries to focus her eyes on you.
“Nergúi. What was he like?”
>”You're saying it wrong. It's pronounced Nergüi.”
>You wave your hand to shut her up, only spilling a bit of your pint on yourself.
>”Well... He was stern. Liked his adoptive brothers, even if he didn't write them much. He was well liked amongst the other Diplomats. He got on really well with our sister.”
“Did I? He?”
>You're still not quite sure how to refer to your own past life.
>”Dutiful. He took his job seriously, even when it was essentially just a position to keep him from his brother's court once they started to worry about the succession.”
>Luna turns quiet and melancholic for a few seconds.
>”I wish I had a brother.”
>That came out of nowhere.
“Hmm?”
>She looks at you and blushes for a moment before continuing anyway.
>”I mean... Neither me or Celestia are the most marely of mares. But it would be nice to talk about coltish things with someone without being embarrassed about it.”
>You shake your head and chuckle.
“I wouldn't know. As far as I know, I have no brothers or sisters. Maybe.”
>You shrug. Typically this idea that you might not know yourself quietly terrified you, but you had enough to drink to dull yourself to the pain.
>”Have you really forgotten who...”
>You wave your hand, stopping her question in its tracks.
“We aren't here to discuss that 'Moonlight Shadow'. So... ever been to Manehatten before?”
>”Really? Is that the level of 'barely able to hold a conversation' that we are at?”
>You shrug.
“What would you suggest otherwise?”

~#~

>This strikes you as stupid.
>You take another swig of vodka.
>This strikes you as a brilliant laugh.
“S'allright. So I won't die if I land in the lake, despite what the laws of momentum tell us?”
>”No. Everyone knows you can survive a fall from any height if you land in water.”
>The two of you are currently flying high above central park. At least one and a half thousand feet above it in fact. Your grip against Luna's back is awfully light for how dangerous it was up here, how much the wind is smacking into your body and face.
“So. First one in the lake wins. Minus points for dying.”
>”Please, we're both immortal. How will that happen?”
“Hey! I ain't got that kinda immortality.”
>Luna has the audacity to shrug, which almost throws you off her immediately.
“I thought you were supposed to stop me from killing myself?”
>”Just aim for the water and neither of us will get in trouble.”
>Can't argue with that logic.
“All right. Wait, we should both be level. If I'm on your back I'll fall behind you.”
>Amazed by your peerless logic and nothing to do with the several more drinks you had in that dive bar, Luna tilts herself so she is flying sideways, and you now really have to grip on for dear life.
“That's better.” You say as you nearly fall to your death.
>”On three.”
“One.”
>”Two.”
>You let go.
>The wind rushes up to greet you, and in those moments where you feel utterly weightless as your body speeds up inextricably towards the ground, you see through the haze of drink and whispers you tried to ignore in your head and consider whether jumping without a parachute was a fantastic idea.
>You close your eyes, mostly because your being hit by bugs and rushing air, then realise that doing so might make you miss the lake, and you might sincerely die.
>So you open them. First you glance towards Luna, who weighing less than you should have a lower terminal velocity than you do. She is however able to get her body more streamlined, so she might catch up. You move to copy her, heading face first towards the lake in the heart of Central park.
>Perhaps you ought to question why you were so willing to do this. You had already won the walking in traffic thing with Luna and succeeded in not getting hit by some of the pony drawn carriages drawing other ponies.
>Fuck it. Born to die and all that. Too late to back out now.
>You hold your arms close to your chest and try and push against the wind, against the roaring air itself.
>The water rushes towards you, the inky blackness lit only by a few surrounding lanterns on the bank, the orange glow spreading like an oil slick across the surface.
>You think you shout, or something, as you get closer and closer to the surface, but you aren't quite sure.
>As you are now certain you will hit the water, you close your eyes and mutter something beneath your breath.
>And you smash into the water...

>You gasp for air as you surface, the frozen waters of the Arctic tearing through you like a manticore's talons.
“Son of a!” You shout.
>”Sir! We're throwing you a floatation ring!” An unfamiliar mare's voice shouts.
“Throw me a fucking hot drink and a rope before I fucking die of hypothermia!”
>The words spilling from your lips are not quite your own. You cannot help but notice you are most definitely not in the Central Park lake, but in what looks more like something from the Terror than Friends.
>Great, you remember TV shows. How useful.
>Sure enough, a rope is thrown towards you and you desperately grip onto it, your body already starting to go into shock from the freezing cold.
>You let yourself be pulled, back onto the deck of a large wooden ship, and not the banks of a lake.
>Shivering from the cold, sweating from your body beginning to shut down and go into shock, you are surrounded by a few mares, rushing to throw towels over you, to get you a hot drink or in the case of one of the unicorns aiming her horn at you.
>You shiver and moan as heat rushes through you, and you work out that it must've been her spell.
>You try and fight desperately for control of your mouth, to ask where you were. But the body wills out.
“God damn. Didn't expect a single 'burg to throw me that far.”
>You shiver some more, your breath turning to ice in front of you.
>A stern looking blue earth mare with a cute Tricorn hat moves forwards, the gathered crowd parting slightly to let her through. You body merely raises an eyebrow at her, challenging her even as you feel like you almost died there. She opens her mouth.
>”I warned you, captain, that to stand at the front of the ship like some ancient... What was the term you used?”
“Viking?”
>”Hmm. Like a Yak raider, will only bring harm to yourself. And what has befallen you?”
>You shake your head.
“I've spent twenty years on ships Commander. The waters are more my home than any patch of dirt beneath Celestia's sky. They will take me when the time comes, and not before.”
>She huffs, and a red tinge gathers on her cheeks.
>”And if your time had came this day? We would all be stuck without your presence.”
“Even you, Commander Longshore?”
>You stretch that final word to obscene lengths, and your wiggling eyebrows no doubt add to the effect.
>”Rank dictates that I shall be the senior most commanding officer aboard the HMS Farseer. I would bring her back to port and report to the Princess your tragic... Your loss.”
>You wave a hand to dismiss her barely hidden concern.
“You would do no such thing. I...”
>You glance towards the wheel at the rear castle of the ship.
“Who, pray tell, is navigating the ship through the icepack?”
>The mares' eyes widen in horror, and you shudder and nearly fall as another Iceberg slams into the ship.
>You leap into action even as your sodden freezing clothes still drip water onto the deck. A flurry of nautical terms you barely understand rush out of your mouth as you order each mare to their post, before returning once again to stand right at the front of the ship.
>The sight before you almost takes your breath away, but to the man in control, it's just another day. A field of sharp white ice jutting out of the water looking like broken glass.
>You can only watch in detached interest as you shoot up a bunch of hand signals and the ship expertly weaves through the Icefield. You can only think of the old adage about the true size of an iceberg as you seem to mime pulling the ship entire to the right to dodge one of them.
>The ship barely makes it, in one of the slowest near misses you've ever seen. You can hear wood splintering as you grind and scrape against the ice.
“Hard starboard!” You shout at the top of your lungs.
>The ship begins to slowly drift right, and you can hear yourself pray beneath your breath that it will be in time to dodge the next coming Iceberg.
>You can also hear the pitter patter of hooves moving up behind you.
>”Anon! Get away from the prow!”
>Your body turns to face Commander Longshore, her tricorn hat gone from her head, showing the blonde bun beneath.
“If I do so, we won't make it out of the Ice field. Commander.”
>The last word is almost said as an afterthought, and you watch briefly as the rage and tears grow on her face before turning back to the Ice.
>”Captain!”
“No. Get back. We've a big one coming up.”
>And sure enough, you did. A monstrosity taller than even the ship itself, casting a shadow even from a hundred metres away that loomed over the ship entire.
>The ship keeps trying to move to the right, but the Ice is moving closer and closer, the distance between it and the ship getting narrower and narrower.
>Within moments it is upon you, and crashes into the starboard side of the ship.
>You watch in detached horror as once again you are thrown from the ship as it tilts nearly 45 degrees towards the freezing sea.
>You smash into the freezing water, and for a few moments, you are beneath the surface.
>The darkness consumes you for a moment. Even with your eyes open and the midday arctic sun above you cannot see more than a few metres in front of you.
>Well, you hope so. You can barely make out shapes moving in that same darkness. Too large for a pony, or even a man.
>Feeling the ice once again bite and tear at your definitions, you rush towards the surface and gasp for air once more.

>You feel an unnatural warmth spreading through your body, a fire lit within you. You might know it to be false, but it is a false comfort you cling to, even as your teeth chatter against each other with a force you fear strong enough to break them.
>Another head breaks the surface and gasps for air, her blonde mane trailing behind her in the water, undone by that icy grip that has taken your heart and lungs.
>You try to swim towards her, to comfort her even as you hear the crashing of wood against ice and frozen waters. You dare not look back to the Farseer.
>She's barely able to stay on the surface, the sudden shock of the freezing waters and her already weak swimming ability threatening to pull her down into the frozen darkness.
>But you reach her just as her nostrils threaten to fall beneath into the abyss.
“Keep your head up. Paddle with all four legs.”
>You take her into a death grip, holding her up even as you feel the lier's warmth continue to spread across you. Even as your breath grows more and more difficult with every second.
>In that moment, you realise perhaps what you should have already. You were already dead. You would die of the cold faster than anything to safely bring your body temperature back up. Thoughts and memories consumed as fuel to keep your basic functions running.
“Stay awake.”
>You try to listen to your own advise as the mare in your hands' paddles for dear life, but the shadows lengthen at the edge of your vision.
>A shadow moves across you, and through your fading vision you can make out the side of the Farseer. Torn and scarred, but alive and moving.
>A rope is dropped into the water.
>The mare struggles out of your weakening grip and tries to tie it around you, to let the crew lift you onto the deck.
>But you know better. You through off her attempts with your last reserve of strength and take the rope from her hands, quickly tying it around her and pulling twice on the rope.

>And you are gone.
>Your last reserves of true warmth and strength are gone. Your legs are unable to keep you above the water. Worst, if they did your crew might have dragged your breathing corpse aboard, and wasted their time.
>So you let go.
>The Abyss takes you, and you watch as the light of the world weakens into a small corridor above you.
>You thought it'd be colder than this, but who knows how many of your nerves are already dead by now, or if your brain can even properly notice the pain you ought to be in.
>And slowly even the false warmth leaves you. Your lungs fill with that terrible black water, that icy chill.
>You once heard that drowning was one of the most painful ways to die, and for a moment you wonder which shall take you first. Your body shutting down from the cold?
>Or choking and asphyxiation?
>Except it isn't you. Not really. As that Anon fades into the dark you cling onto sapience and conscious just a little more.
>You can hear his last thoughts rush through his mind.
>A sunlight island. A blonde mane against his chest. Someone telling him they loved him.
>And an apology.
>And with that, the light fades.


>And you cough.
>And again, you heave, trying to expel the water from your lungs.
>With a glance, you can tell your on the bank of the lake, watched by a few passers-by.
“Son of a...”
>You throw up the last of the fresh water in your lungs and roll onto your back, staring up at the orange glow of the Manehatten sky.
>”Anonymous? Are you alright.”
>Luna's voice snaps you from your malaise.
“Fine...”
>Waving your hand to dismiss her for a moment, you cough up the last of the water in your lungs and collapse once again into the dirt.
>For a few seconds, neither of you say anything, as you run through another of your deaths.
>But the silence must be broken, and you open your mouth
“So who won?”

~#~

>Turns out you did, if that's any consolation.
>The two of you managed to limp in each other's arms... Hooves. Whatever, managed to limp back to The Colton Ritz. The receptionist seemed to give a nod to Luna as she watched her drag your near comatose ass through the doors and back to your two separate rooms.
“I dreamed I was old Egg.” You moan.
>”Of course you did.”
“Hey? You putting me to bed right?”
>Now it's her turn to moan.
>”Yes. Please shut up. We can smell your breath from here.”
“Don't forget I need my sleeping pills. I don't wanna dream. I don't like dreaming.”
>This admittance seems to perturb the Princess of the Night.
>”Why is that?”
“You ever dream about dying over and over and over and over...”
>”We get it.”
“Well imagine that. Every time you try to sleep. And you feel everything. And you now know that it actually happened to you.”
>”That sounds... Awful Anon.”
>You stroke the pretty horse.
“You ever been in a place you know you can't stay? But that you know you can't leave?”
>”Stop trying to be depressed. That was our problem...”
>She realises what she just said.
>”Nightmare Moon's problem.”
“Eyyyyy. You admitted....”
>”Go to sleep.”
>You realise now you are in front of your room in the hotel, and Luna opens it with her magic.
“Coooool.”
>She throws you off her back and onto the comfy bed, and you start to moan as you wrap yourself within its confines.
>”You just said you need pills.”
>You feel something smack you in the head. Unwrapping yourself from the covers you grab a small plastic bottle.
“Right.”
>You reach out towards the bedside table and grab a glass of water, take a single pill into your hand and swallow it.
>Should take a minute or two to work.
>”Do you really hate dreaming?”
>You turn to Luna who has broken the spell that hides her wings.
“I'm afraid of it. At least I know why I am doing it this time.”
>You desperately wish to change the subject as she looks at you strangely.
“So? We teleporting to Fillydelphia tomorrow?”
>She continues to look at you strangely for a few moments before slowly nodding her head.
>”Tomorrow. Tonight we should both sleep off our drunkenness and inevitable hangovers.”
“Inevitable.”
>She moves to leave but before the consuming shadow of drug-induced sleep consumes you once more you shout out to her.
>She turns.
>There's something you want to say. Something you want to tell her. Something you want to admit.
>And those words are
“Can we wake up at, like, ten or so? I'm fucking buzzed and tired at the same time.”
>Truly, you are a poet laureate. You can hear your ancestors clapping their approval at your hallowed and honest words. But like all geniuses, you aren't appreciated in your time, and the princess of the Night merely nods her head and tells you to go to sleep.
>Not that you need the incentive as the inky blackness of prescription medication takes you.

~#~

>Luna found you the next morning staring dead-eyed in the bar, a glass of water before you and your bags packed beneath you.
>She glances at a clock.
>”It's nine o'clock. We had expected you to either be throwing up or still asleep.”
“Woke up at five. I don't sleep anymore. I just...”
>”Enough of that. Some of us do sleep.”
“Fair enough. You able to eat solid food?”
>She shook her head.
“Yeah, me neither. I might manage a sandwich come sundown. How much did we drink last night?”
>Luna chuckles behind her hoof for a moment before answering.
>”Enough that we thought it was a good idea to dive into the Central Park lake.”
“Well, that sounds stupid, but...”
>”From fifteen hundred feet.”
>Taking a moment to blink, you check your body to make sure it's in one piece.
“How am I alive? Wait, that explains the whole Arctic thing.”
>”Arctic thing?”
“Long story. I had a vision of another life, me drowning. So that was fun.”
>”Anyone ever tell you you're quite depressing hungover?”
“I wouldn't remember.”
>”Lucky you.”
>A low chuckle rumbles in your throat
“Anyone ever tell you-you're a cunt hungover?”
>”Not in so few words, no. My Sister always had some choice words for me after mornings out.”
“Mornings out?”
>Luna rolls her eyes and shifts her hips to show off her disguised cutie mark, still looking like the moon.
>”We used to sleep during the day and work at night. And if we wanted to party or celebrate, we'd go out during the day.”
“Must've been hard to party and socialise when everyone is working.”
>”More than you know.”
>You realise, perhaps, the catalysts that created Nightmare Moon. The small stumbles before the great fall.
>Eager to change the conversation, you run a hand through your growing mess of hair, past your unshaven beard.
“Ever been to Fillydelphia?”
>”No. Not even the small village it was a thousand years ago. I rarely left the castle in those days."
>It all went back to a thousand years ago didn't it?
>Well, you could hardly blame her. For her, that might have felt like just a month or two ago.
>Or she was Nightmare Moon, as you know she was, and it actually felt like a thousand years and she was just suppressing that part of herself that knew that.
>Not that you were one to talk on suppressing uncomfortable truths.
>God, you were depressing when hungover. Or sober. Or drunk.
“You packed?”
>”No.”
“Cool.”
>Truly a master of the conversational arts.
>You desperately think of something else to talk about. Anything. The weather? How disrespectful kids were today? What was the deal with the whole reverse gender...
>Or maybe you really ought to ask her about Nightmare Moon. Honestly. Allow her to admit that she did those terrible things and that because she has admitted that she can seek honest forgiveness for her crimes. That she needn't feel a guilt she cannot admit. And she can be set free.
>But instead what falls from your lips is
“Better pack.”
>You hate yourself sometimes.
>Luna nods tiredly, wearily.
>”We suppose so.”
>You smile, a weak hollow thing pulling at the right side of your face.
>This wasn't Luna. Not truly. This small pony with a simple teal mane and dark blue Skin. From your past life, you knew she was supposed to every bit as majestic and ethereal as her sister. But here she was. Barely up to your waist. Only the wings and horn both might have given away what she was supposed to be, and her wings were hidden.
>You want to comfort her a little. You do feel guilty for things you had done you can barely remember.
>But you are quite sure that this gesture would not be accepted.
>So you drink your water, and clear your throat, like the coward you are.

~#~

>Steadying yourself with your enormous bag on your bag, you stand as close as you dare to the Mare, focusing all her might into her glowing, sparking horn. You can taste Ozone on the air, watch the magic spark off any metal nearby.
>And then all of a sudden, like one of her sister's brilliant sunrises you are struck by the light.
>For a moment, all you can perceive, all you are, is a white void.
>Form and time and meaning decay into that same void, folding and unfolding across perfectly straight lines of infinite curvature.
>And as soon as it began, the moment you try and reach out for something, anything to confirm your reality, colours, heart and smells rush towards you.
>And you stumble on your feet, planting your hands against a wall to steady yourself.
>Feeling the red brick beneath your fingers, and tasting the salt in the air, hearing the low moan of a city, you can confirm your reality.
>You cough, and turn to face Luna, watching you with a curious eye.
>”We tried to keep you upright and on the ground this time.”
>You chuckle once you can confirm your lungs are really there.
“I appreciate the effort.”
>You have decided that as useful as it is, you really do not like teleporting.
>Looking around, to your untrained eye it just looks like you're in yet another back alley in some city. For half a heartbeat you hope to yourself selfishly that it is one on earth, but looking towards the end you can see ponies walking by.
“Are we definitely in Fillydelphia?”
>Luna looks equally unsure.
>”We shall ask. You stay here and recover. You look as if you might empty your stomach.”
>Just as well you didn't eat anything.
>Turning your body you slide down the wall, you shirt scratching against the brick as you do so.
>You wait patiently for a few moments as 'Midnight Shadow' heads onto the main street and tries to politely ask for confirmation and directions.
>The next few minutes pass as Luna asks about directions politely and the mares and Stallions argue rudely in return.
>This was taking too long for your liking.
>Standing up you made your way towards her and tried desperately to remember what Shining Armor once told you of the sports teams of this world.
“Oi! You!”
>You shout as you arrive onto the Main street, immediately catching the glare of a passing Mare, both because you were a six foot something alien, but also because you were rudely pointing at her.
>The red Pegasus glares at you with the fury of a neutron star.
>”Fuck you!”
>Well that was sudden. Still...
“Fuck you! The Eagles suck!”
>”Fuck you say Stallion!?”
>She starts to try and get up in your face, which barely works for the 3ft something mare.
“Fuck you!”
>”Fuck you!”
>Well, Fillydelphia confirmed.
>You allow the mare to keep kicking and biting you as you turn back to Luna and shrug.
“Rude, Pissed off at me insulting the Eagles, trying to fight me. We're in Fillydelphia.”
>Luna cannot quite form words at this point. She glances towards the Mare still trying to fight you and pulls her off with her telekinesis.
>”Enough of that. You have been most helpful Ma'am.”
>The Pegasus tries once more to fight you, trying to dive-bomb you and smack you in the head, but Luna's horn glows and the Mare teleports away.
>... At least you hope that was a teleport. The chance it may have been Luna banishing her to the Moon or Sun or something wasn't quite out of the question.
“She'll be alright right?”
>Luna shrugs.
>God you hope you've not just been made an accessory to murder.
“She's okay right?”
>Luna shrugs again, a smug grin growing on her snout.
“Please at least tell me she's alive.”
>Finally Luna breaks her smug silence.
>”She's probably fine. I just teleported her.”
>Well, given your experiences with that, fine was relative.

~#~

>Finding a sadly much cheaper hotel quickly, rather than waste time drinking (especially while the two of you were still a bit hungover) you leapt into trying to find where exactly Gleamshine lived exactly.
>Without computers, this leads you to an ancient and lost tome that perhaps should have stayed buried. An eldritch thing of depth and design, inscribed with barely legible words and numbers that seemed to consume the light and warmth of whatever space the book was kept in.
>So foul were those pages that they had been stained a foul yellow as if dipped into some unearthly ichor.
>”It's just an address book.” Says Luna, breaking the silence.
>An address book.
>Well at least it wasn't a phone book.
>It was quite difficult to find Gleamshine. You figured at her age she probably wasn't living on her own, so while Luna teleported between Old Folk's homes in the City to perhaps try and find her there you had to try and trace her family tree, birth records and the like and see if she had family in the city she was staying with.
>While Luna's search had been fruitless and gotten her nothing but being forced to try and listen to a few old people pretending to be her for some human... Pony? Pony contact, yours had finally turned up something.
>A daughter, Mirror Sheen (a name somehow worse than Gleamshine of all things) had a house in the city. You would bet a hundred bits that if Gleamshine was anywhere, it was there.
>And you actually did. Luna took that bet. Hopefully, it'd be the easiest 100 bits you'd ever make.
>Time to find out.
>Stepping out of the hotel, your white shirt buttoned up, a cheap clip-on tie and a paper pad to complete the disguise, the two of you make your way through the Fillydelphia streets once more. You having refused outright anymore teleporting.
>Luna, or 'Midnight Shadow', had not bothered with any disguise more than her illusionary cutie mark and hiding her wings again.
“Why the wings?”
>”Hmm?”
>You nod towards her invisible or non-existent (you weren't quite sure which) wings.
>”Oh... Well, we figured being able to use telekinesis without getting strange looks was the smarter choice.”
“Aren't you getting strange looks anyway?”
>You motion towards the several pedestrians staring up at you in disgust and confusion.
>”Well, you are. We're merely an accessory to strange looks.”
“Smartass.” You grumble, walking ahead and flicking her in the snout as you pass her.
>At least for once you were the one in charge of the map.
>And you used this opportunity to stay well out of reach of any possible retaliation on her part.
>You dodged the telekinetic wedgies, the attempted smacks against your ass, even her straight up just trying to charge at you.
>At least until you finally arrived at the address, a two-story house on the outskirts of the city. The garden hadn't been mown in quite a while, long grass at least up to your knees proving that. Curtains were drawn on the upper floor, but not on the first. But it was a cosy place. The door was painted red, hearts etched into the woodwork.
>When you came to a stop Luna pulled your trousers down with her magic, to which you booped her and pulled them back up before knocking on the door.
>A middle-aged tan coated mare with enormous brown eyes and curly brown hair looks at your crotch and follows the rest of you to look in your eyes, stepping back once she realises how tall you are.
>You don't want to scare her, so you carefully smile so that you don't show your canines and speak in a low calming voice. Your best bureaucratic voice.
“Hello. I'm with the Royal government trying to tie up a few loose ends concerning one...”
>You pretend to flip through your empty notepad.
“Brightsmile. We believe that a good friend of his is staying here, and we want to sort out a small inheritance matter.”
>Once the mare gets over your no doubt strange appearance she sighs.
>”I haven't heard that name for a while. Father never liked mother talking about him. Even when she was not the primary mare in his herd, he never liked hearing he was second best in her eyes.”
>Well, that was a revelation. Past you probably banged Gleamshine. The thought... Is one you should save and figure out for another time.
“Is your mother in Mrs Sheen?”
>”Miss Sheen. Damn Stallion ran off with some floozy from Baltimare. Yeah, my Mother is in. So, what can we stand to get?”
>You cough as Luna looks towards you expectedly, willing to just allow you to lie your way in.
“That's what we need to discuss with her preferably. If you and she are willing I'd love to get an interview. We have to confirm identities you see.”
>Mirror Sheen glares into you for a few seconds, glances at Luna, sighs, and steps aside.
>You pass the threshold into the house.
>”Gleam's eyesight ain't too good anymore, so if you have pictures or anything to show run it by me.”
“That shouldn't be an issue.”
>Because you were lying out of your ass.
>She leads you up the stairs, the two of you chatting politely while Luna simply watches until you come across a room at the end of a darkened corridor.
>”I'll just see if she's awake.”
>As Mirror Sheen steps inside your hands begin to shake ever so slightly. Talking to someone who knew your past life intimately was... Strange. You knew lots of people in Canterlot who knew Brightsmile, but they knew the Butler. Gleamshine knew the man he used to be. And that worried you. Being younger, he was far closer to the man you are now.
>”Surprised we haven't run into any of your bastards yet.” Luna said sarcastically.
>You're too tense to respond, or even bring up the impossibility of that.
>The door opens, and Mirror Sheen's head pops out.
“She's awake. You can come in.”
>With a deep breath, you enter the darkened room.

>The first thing you notice is the decorations. What looks like a gramophone, but with a round tube on it instead of a flat disc sits on a bedside table. Newspapers hang from the room. And to your discomfort, at least two of the seven have you upon them.
>Not you as you are now, but you recognise now the Stallion that replaced your dead body on that balcony in Canterlot. Brightsmile.
>The curtains are pulled back by Mirror Sheen, and as they are you notice the old mare in the bed. Her eyes are nearly milky white, her cheeks gaunt, and she seems to look towards whatever made the last noise, but some part of you recognises the mare. You had seen her in your dreams. A younger version, but her none the less.
>You spot two chairs at the foot of the bed and one beside, opposite the table. You nod to Luna and she returns it, and the two of you sit in those chairs, uncomfortably for you.
>Mirror Sheen sits by her mother, places a hoof against her head and smiles before speaking in a soft voice.
>”Mother. There are people from the royal court here to talk to you.”
>”Royal... Royal court? And you let them see me like this.”
>Her voice is brittle and torn, scratched and wavering, but you recognise it. Not consciously, but certainly. This was the mare that helped you back on your feet when you arrived in Equestria. This is the Mare that helped you rip off the Mafia and then helped you escape them. This is the mare you fell in love with for two years before parting.
>You daren't speak for a moment, your voice taken from you, lost to memories.
>But Luna is glancing at you pointedly, as is Mirror Sheen.
>You cough to clear your throat and speak.
“Mrs Gleamshine. I'm from...”
>”Brightsmile? Is that you?”
>She tries to sit up in her bed. Tries so hard. But the years had been harsh on both of you. Father time has his way with us all. And while you can't remember, she can't forget. It's a shame she's remembering the wrong things.
>”No Mother. This isn't Brightsmile. He's... What did you say your name was?”
>You wipe something from your eye and turn to her daughter.
“Anonymous.”
>”Mr Anonymous.” Mirror Sheen repeats.
>”Oh. Of course. You told me that he was dead. But the two of you sound so similar.” Gleamshine mumbles.
>Her milk-white eyes fall upon you, but you remember the brown ones that looked so shocked at your appearance once.
“Mrs... Mrs Gleamshine. Were you friends with Brightsmile? Before he parted?”
>A soft, genuine nostalgic smile grows on the old mare's face.
>”I couldn't go to his party. Or his funeral. But yes, we were good friends.”
“How did you meet?”
>”He appeared in my apartment one morning. About sixty years ago. Just out of thin air. He was so confused.”
>Mirror Sheen shoots you an apologetic glance.
>”He just teleported in by accident and got knocked in the head...”
>”Brightsmile didn't teleport. Always hated it.”
>Gleamshine tried again to sit up, batting away her daughter's hoof to try and look at you in the eyes, for what good that did.
>”He came from another World. Another place, another time. I know because he was so... strange.”
>She seems confused on that last word, like she's trying to remember something despite all her mind and soul telling her not to. Like it hurts to remember that last fact.
>”She's confused. She's just...”
>You interrupt Mirror Sheen's excuse, writing furiously in your notepad as you stare into Gleamshine's empty eyes.
“What makes you say that? That he came from another world?”
>Gleamshine shakes her head slowly.
>”He had weird ideas about Stallions and Mares. He would always pay for our drinks and dinners. I miss that. He was such a gentlemare... It was strange.”
“Is that all? What about his height? Can you tell me what he looked like?”
>”What's going on here?”
>Mirror Sheen moves to shout at you, or maybe hit you, but Luna steps in.
>”Anonymous was just asking the standard questions. It's to help with memory recollection.”
>You smile apologetically at the daughter you could have had once before returning to Gleamshine.
“Do you remember if he went by any other name? Do you remember him talking about England? About his parents?”
>”I... Another Name.”
>The question makes Gleamshine pause. She seems to chew on it for a few moments before looking to the gramophone like device on her right.
>”You can hear it for yourself.”
>You turn as white as a sheet as you look to the device. It was one thing to read your words. To dream your lives and death. But she was implying...
>”I'll get the Phonograph going...”
>She smacks it with her hoof as hard as she can, and the thing spins to life.
>”So wait, you spent your earnings on this?”
>Your eyes widen, even Luna glances from the machine to you.
>As cracked and staticy as it is, that's your voice coming from the cylinder and speaker.
>”Why not? I'm recording right now.”
>That voice was unmistakably Gleamshine's. Gone was the aches and wounds of age, replaced by the vigour and sweetness of youth.
>”Right now? Huh. That is cool.”
>”I thought they had these things in your world?”
>Gleamshine and Mirror Sheen both have turned towards you, recognising your voice coming from that speaker, but your eyes are glued to the phonograph.
>”Sure. But I've never seen an old-timey version. Bet it sounds like shit.”
>”Probably. So what'd you spend your earnings on?”
>”Something sensible.”
>”Clothes?”
>”We can't all strut around naked all the time like you.”
>”You do it enough around here.”
>”Fair enough.”
>You can almost imagine the conversation taking place, almost remember the low glow of the oil lantern in that shitty apartment. Almost remember the exhilaration of cheating and winning your first poker game.
>Your hands begin to shake, your brow begins to sweat, but you keep listening.
>”So, we doing anything tonight?” The static voice of a younger Gleamshine asks.
>”I dunno. I'm feeling like staying in. Maybe ordering something Haytalian.”
>”Should we stop recording?”
>”Well, unless future you wants to listen to us chowing down on greasy pizza, probably.”
>”Pizza? Really? Are you sure...”
>There's a pregnant pause, and for a moment you fear that was the end of the recording. But then, the recording of Gleamshine says a final word.
>”Anon?”
>And then it stops. The needle moves down the cylinder, scratching at tearing slightly at it as it finishes its course.
>You and Gleamshine turn to each other, and even in her blind eyes, you see the recognition within. And it's as if a great veil has been lifted. Her older, tired voice repeats those same words her younger self just said, with even more trepidation, but with even more certainty.
>”Anon?”
>And you fall back.

>When you awaken back in that darkened room, you are alone.
>You cannot say why. You shouldn't be. You were surrounded by others when you fell unconscious.
>You stand up and turn, trying to find anyone. As you do so you feel the room stretch in all directions, the walls moving away from you.
“Where am I?”
>”Where we all go.”
>A tired but familiar voice breaks the silence. You peer into the dark, and an old man steps out of the shadows.
>You recognise his hair, his face, his piercing green eyes. For you see them in every reflection, every mirror.
“Are you...”
>”You would know me best as Brightsmile. It is how most of them remember me. I am luckier than most in that regard, however. I am remembered. Hundreds of us die too quickly or never meet her to get that opportunity.”
>Celestia. He's talking about her.
>”Come. Sit with me a while.”
>The scenery changes, and gone are the shadows and the wooden floor beneath you. You find yourself standing on a marble balcony, the setting sun casting its dying orange glow across a great landscape.
>You... Your older copy sits on a bench on the balcony, groaning to himself as he does so. You move to sit beside him.
>”I lived a long time. Longer than anyone else, if you can believe that. I was ready to go.”
>You let him talk.
>”I... I wasn't scared. A lot of us are. So terrified of where we'll end up. To think, the answer is nowhere at all.”
>He turns to you.
>”And right where we left off.”
“I... I'm trying to remember. All of them.”
>”You're the first. The Wanderer didn't want to risk forgetting mother and father. Their faces. The beast in the Long Grass had darker ideas of his place in the universe. And I...”
>He leans back, managing to find the most comfortable way to sit. For a moment he glances to the rising moon and smiles as he notices it unblemished, unscarred.
>”I had no idea. I thought it was simply the end. I had a long... Decent life. Not brilliant. But not bad.”
“Hundreds turned up for your funeral.”
>”Not mine. Brightsmile's. You are me Anonymous.”
>He turns back to you, staring into identical eyes.
>”And I am you. Remember that.”
“I'm trying to. I don't want to forget.”
>Your older self laughs.
>”Maybe after today things will be a little easier on that front. But there's no need to rush. Let's just enjoy the sunset.”
>You tap your fingers on the bench, a million and one questions rushing through your head. But you both sigh. Relax, and look towards the sun.

>For nearly an hour you watch its slow descent behind the mountains. Watch as the brilliant sky turns from orange to red, to purple, and finally to black.
>”That was nice. Wish I saw it with her.”
“Gleamshine?”
>Your older self shook his head.
>”She and I were only a short fling. We both knew that. I remembered her fondly, when I could. But we weren't meant for each other. I speak of...”
>The last words seem to die on his lips. He smiles as you turns back to you.
>”That's for you to find out. You'll remember soon enough.”
“Will I?”
>”I will be the first. But not, I think, the last. For your friend's sake, the next one you should seek out is Nergüi. She'll need him to get over her own problems.”
“Next one?”
>”Time has its way with most of us. Strips from us our definitions, our legacies and hopes. But perhaps not for you. You need only remember.”
>His wrinkled hand falls upon your knee.
>”And you will.”
>It stays there for a few moments as his breath grows weaker and weaker. More strained.
>You hold his hand, feel the warmth slowly leave it.
>”This is good.”
>And he lets go.

>A hoof on your chest is the first thing you feel as you return to the land of the living.
>Reaching up towards it and grabbing it weakly, you open your eyes.
>Luna is looking at you, concern and the slightest hint of fear etched on her face.
>”Anon? Are you alright?”
>There's chattering and some kind of argument going on behind her, but for a moment you ignore it, letting go of her hoof and pushing yourself up off the floor.
>You stand shakily on the floor, gripping the edge of the bed for support. Your head is ringing, a low roar in your ears.
>The argument stops as Gleamshine and Mirror Sheen both look to you.
>You close your eyes for a moment, and you feel a warmth, a true warmth, rush through your body.
>When you open your eyes once more you look to Gleamshine, into her milky white eyes. You imagine that she can see you. As you were.
“Gleamshine. I remember you.”

~#~

>It was strange. To remember all of a sudden the life you had lived.
>Before you remembered, you feared it would be like another part of your mind, separate from the you-you were before you awoke again.
>Or perhaps you feared, quietly, that the you-you were would be consumed by that man who died on that dusky balcony not a few weeks ago.
>But he was you. You were he.
>And fifty-seven years of memories, at least those he could hold onto in those last few years, returned as your own. For they were your own.
>You remembered Manehatten. Las Pegasus. Applewood and a few other cities. You remembered your years of service under Celestia. Starfall, Silvertouch, Gleamshine, Sunspot and a dozen or more names. You remembered...
>Letting go of all of it. The quiet contentment of being free. All the times you remembered death, you remembered the fear. You remembered the cold. The shivering. The Abyss. And yet here you were, remembering trying to smile one last time.
>You spent about an hour gushing with Gleamshine about old times, holding her weak hoof as the two of you reminisced about the card games, the fast... Carriages. The drinking and debauchery. But also the quiet nights in. Watching the stars from the roof of that shitty dockside apartment.
>You kept out the sex, mainly because her daughter and a princess were right there in the room.
>But she was growing tired. Her eyelids falling over those milk-white eyes. You told her and her daughter that you had indeed left some money for them in your will, that it should be sorted out by the executor of Brightsmile's estate soon enough.
>And as Gleamshine fell asleep with a soft smile on her lips, playing that recording of the two of you one more time to lull her into the dark, you and Luna made to leave.
>When that Red door closes behind you, you turn to her for a moment, a smile on your face.
>She opens her mouth to speak, but you stop her.
>You embrace her, wrapping your arms around her neck as she gasps.
“Thank you. Thank you.”
>”I...”
“Without you I'd... I don't know.”
>She gingerly pats your back with her hoof, looking away from you, before sighing and placing her head on your shoulder.
>”We simply teleported you here...”
“How great or small you think your role was, I remember. That's enough.”
>”What is it like?”
>An interesting question.
“It's just like remembering anything else. I feel like it's me in those memories, if that's the question. It's undoubtedly me. I don't always get that with my dreams.”
>Luna simply nods, and you finally break off the hug, patting her on the head to her annoyance. In return she whips your face with her tail, deliberately aiming perfectly for the scar already there.
“Son of a!”
>”Can't have the peasants getting too familiar with royalty.”
>You're about to argue, but you can see the smug grin on her face. So you simply laugh and rub the scar.
“You know, we're basically done here in Fillydelphia. If I am right about what I need to do to remember these past lives, we may need to swing by Canterlot again. So... Shall we just grab our bags from the hotel and see Celestia again?”
>You can't keep the hope and joy out of your voice, the want to see your old boss and tell her you remember working beneath her for fifty years.
>Luna glances towards the afternoon sun for a moment before nodding.
>”Why not? It shall be a more pleasant place to sleep than here.”
>The two of you begin the long trek back to the hotel. Sparing one last glance towards Gleamshine's house, and the daughter in the doorway you never really could have had. The moment passes, and you leave this place.

~#~

>You look out of the window of your hotel room towards the setting sun.
“Goddammit do I hate teleporting.” You grumble as you grab your bag and throw it over your shoulders.
>”If you can think of a more convenient way to travel we would love to hear it.”
>Being shot out of a cannon? Killing yourself and hoping you reincarnate somewhere near where you want to go? Walking?
>But instead of threatening to do any of those tedious things you simply sigh and prepare yourself.
“Let's get this over with.”
>But Luna is no longer listening to you, instead once again furiously focusing on her glowing and sparking horn.
>Just in case, you take a step closer to her. Being shocked by a bolt of magic was less terrifying than only half of you teleporting with her, or any number of things you feared that came with bending time and space to your apparent whims.
>The light of her horn intensifies to a blinding light, and you hold up your hand to shield your eyes...
>Until that same light fades.
>You check your surroundings. Yep. Definitely the same crappy hotel room.
“You know, I knew stallions that had similar problems as they got older. There are pills that can...”
>”Cease your attempts at humour. We have this.”
>Luna tries again, focusing no doubt on where she wanted the two of you to be. Sparks and lights flying across the room. Once again the light grows more and more intense, and you shield your eyes again. And then you feel it. The drop of your stomach.

>The void is a familiar yet unwelcome feeling now. You don't bother to move or comprehend its impossible angles and dimensions, instead just keeping your eyes shut. Oh sure, you're pretty sure you can hear time and space rushing past you, but you get used to it.
>Okay, sure. You didn't like the way that you felt your central nervous system had been removed from your body and temporarily stretched across several thousand miles, but that was a small complaint.

>The first clue you had noticed that you had left the void was the cool air against your face. At first, it was a pleasant feeling. But as you opened your eyes you couldn't help but notice that the air was getting faster, smacking against you.
>It was rather evident as well that you were high in the air. Like, stupidly high. You were rushing towards a cloud.
“Well that sucks,” you grumble while you had the chance to
>Both in the sense that as you accelerated you wouldn't be able to hear yourself, but also that you would probably die in a minute or two.
>Well, the more things change you suppose.
>First things first, you moved to throw your bag off your shoulder, hopefully lowering your terminal velocity. Next, look for Luna.
>That's less successful. Wherever she is, it isn't here.
>As you prepare to fall through the cloud rushing towards you, you hold out your arms and legs, anything to slow your descent.
>Water vapour smashes into you as you break through the top layer of the cloud. You can feel small droplets of the stuff, and tiny shards of ice impact against your body. If you weren't falling to your death you'd compare it to a nice cold shower, but it was rather hard to keep that fact from your mind.
>You scream, partly in raw adrenaline-fuelled excitement and partly in raw adrenaline-fuelled terror as you break through the cloud and look below.
>It was a beautiful sight. The fields of Equestria. The mountain that Canterlot perched upon, all lit in that same familiar amber hue that you once died lit by.
>You look towards Celestia's sun. Against the dark cloud above you and the mountains ahead, you had never seen anything so terrible yet so beautiful.
>There were worst ways to go you supposed.
>Your vision was drawn back towards the castle atop the mountain as you saw a white shape rushing out of it.
>You watch in quiet joy as you notice exactly what this shape was. You scream against the wind.
“Celestia! Good to see you!”
>”Anonymous! What are you doing!”
>She furiously flaps her wings, flying above you and gripping you in her hooves. She doesn't outright break your fall, because as whack as physics were, that should still kill you, instead slowing you down like a lovely fluffy sapient parachute.
“I'm guessing Luna fucked up the teleport somehow.”
>Celestia grunts as she pulls up slowly, and you feel yourself slowing down. Still rushing towards the castle, however.
“Told you we'd...”
>”Now is not the time for...”
>Castle getting dangerously close now. Alright. Remember, don't tense your body. Land on the balls of your feet if you can. Try and lean forward taking as much weight off your...
>Oh wait you're already here.
>You and Celestia crash into one of the many balconies of the Castle. The two of you roll, trying to dissipate as much energy away from your bones and muscles.
>For a moment the two of you lie there, catching your breaths.
>The two of you are nearly entwined, Celestia still having her hooves around your body.
>You rub one of her hooves around your chest before saying.
“As I was saying. Told you we'd meet again.”
>Celestia takes a deep breath to collect herself, then giggles.
>”I suppose you did.”
>The two of you stay like that for a minute, content merely to breathe and glad to be alive, before the door to the balcony opens.
>Both you and Celestia look towards it to see the smaller shape of Luna barges the door open.
>”Sister! We cannot find Anon... Oh.”
>You smile as Celestia blushes.
“Hey. Nice teleporting there.”

~#~

>Once you and Celestia untangled yourselves from one another, decorum took over as the Princess of the Sun rushed back to court so that she could apparently greet you properly. You weren't quite sure why, she hated the pomp and circumstance of rule. But maybe it was to do with trying not to look so flushed.
>The guards simply stepped aside this time, not bothering to argue with you yet again.
>Celestia tries to look dignified and stoic, but you notice the same infectious smile that plays upon your face grow on hers as well, as her violet eyes fill with joy.
>Still, you'll play it her way. You had fifty years of experience of at least giving lip service to decorum.
“Your majesty.” You say as you bow.
>Low, with your right arm against the small of your back and your left across your stomach, just as you had learnt all those years ago.
>As you glance up with a wry grin from your low bow, you notice her quivering lip as she seems to recognise that bow. Of course, when you didn't remember yourself you weren't one for bowing at all. You now knew better.
>”Anonymous...”
>How long should you wait to tell her?
>No fuck it, you wanted your friend back.
>You move to stand, placing both hands behind your back as you have always done in her divine service.
“I remember.”
>The words cause a strange set of reactions in her. First, a moment of confusion. Then her brilliant violet eyes widen in recognition of what exactly what you mean. Then no doubt a demure nod or...
>She flies towards you and embraces you.
>Well... You didn't expect that again.
>You run a hand through her mane as she looks up into your eyes, careful to keep her horn well away from your face.
>And in a quiet voice she asks
>”Anonymous?”
>You smile.
“Fifty years ago I became the head of your royal household. Your favourite cake is either a Celestial sponge cake or a simple sponge cake. I used to smuggle Ambrosia's doughnuts in for you during long days at court. We once spent 32 hours trapped in the Griffonstone embassy because you had a cold and couldn't use your magic and one of them lost the key to your room. Officially your favourite flowers are Sunflowers but really you prefer Bluebells. When I was younger I used to give you massages.”
>Tears begin to form at the edges of her eyes. Even your vision is getting a little blurry.
>”It is you... You are him.”
“And he is I.”
>Celestia nuzzles your chest for a bit, and for a while, the two of you are content to simply be in each others company again. You sit down on the marble floor and Celestia follows with you as you scratch behind her ears.
>But finally something other than both of you breathing breaks the silence.
>”How?”
>A simple question, but you are not quite sure you can answer it. But you owe it to her to try.
“An old friend of mine remembered me. The first Pony I ever remember meeting, at least in that life. She had an audio recording of a conversation with both of us on it, and unlike every picture, painting, written word or memory of me... She used my name. My real name.”
>Celestia's eyes widen.
>”So she remembered you??”
“Not at first. But with me there to remind her that it was weird Brightsmile was called Anon in this one recording it all seemed to click for her. And when she remembered... So did I.”
>Celestia breaks the embrace slowly, one last nuzzle into your chest before she stands as tall as ever. But the regal mask she usually wears is gone. Tears of joy streaming down her soft white face, a trembling smile on her lips.
“I meet with... Well, me. I don't remember the conversation from his side, but when I awoke I remembered everything he did at the end. A life entire. A life working for... Well, you know.”
>You stand up, looking her right in the eyes.
>”And... If you die... Will you still remember?”
>Your smile grows strained ever so slightly, and you weakly shrug.
“I don't know. Maybe? There'll be only one way to find out.”
>Celestia winces. You place your hand against her neck and rub it to console her.
“But I'm in no rush yet. I've got too much to live for now.”
>Celestia's smile, as small as it is, looks radiant. The brightest thing in the room by far
>”Good. I would not want to lose you again.”
>Her words are honest. Enough so that they seem to surprise her as well. Not you, however.
“Celestia... At the end of my last life... Did you know I was going to that balcony to die?”
>She looks away for a moment, then back into your eyes before nodding ever so slightly.
“Okay. And at the end... There was something we both thought it was too late to say to one another. We've got more time now, even if I will eventually forget. What was it?”
>Her cheeks glow red for a moment, and she shakes as if trying to steel herself. Her gaze turns fierce and resolute for a moment, and her gaze bores into your own.
>You wait.
>And wait.
>And she breaks. The tears appear again.
>”I...”
>Say it. You think you can guess. But she has to say it. Admit it to herself as much as to you.
>But she can't. Clenching her eyes shut, she wipes them with a hoof.
>”Will you keep going? To find out yourself?”
>You sigh, patting her once more on her neck before removing your hand.
“Yes. I suggested to myself to try and find Nergüi. For Luna's sake apparently.”
>”Luna... She's still...”
“Still her.”
>Celestia sighs again.
>”How might you hope to do that? It sounds like, if I were to guess, that you need to remind the first person you meet of yourself in order to remember. But everyone but I and Luna that knew you as him are long dead.”
>You smile, to assuage her fears and doubts.
“That was part of the reason I came back here. Mostly to see you again. To remind myself why I am doing this. But also...”
>You wince as you ask this.
>”There's a magical means to time travel? Isn't there?”

~#~

>For a moment you watch the embers float into the night's sky. Joining with the stars and the scarred moon above.
>Well, obviously not really, obviously it's just the heat leaving the specks of ash and becoming hard to see. But it was a nice bit of poetic licence.
>You feel a hoof against your leg, and you look down towards Zaerara.
>The small Zebra smiles at you. Trying to assuage your fears of what you are about to go through. You smile at her in return, running your hand through her thick mane.
>The Shaman stands up to speak.
>”A vision quest is not to be taken lightly. Those who partake can find their place in the universe change suddenly.”
>He turns to you, the Zebra's green eyes staring into your own.
>”Anonymous of no clan, no name, no past. Are you ready to take the quest, at long last?”
>You nod, smiling smugly.
“Free hallucinogenics? What's not to love?”
>Zaerara giggles as the Shaman simply glowers at you. You wave a hand, hoping to he took it as a joke.
>The Shaman sighs, and reaches for a small ceramic cup, and the strange swirling green liquid within. He holds it with both hooves.
>”Drink it all, and drink it well. And you shall be under its spell.”
>You gently take the cup with your left hand.
“Bottoms up.”
>You start to swig. It tastes of ash. Fire. Then Ice. A thousand tastes and textures run across your tongue. And the more you drink, the stranger they become. You taste your first kiss, and the time you broke your arm. You taste your fear of death and that song you can only half remember.
>”Prepare yourself Anonymous for the vision you will go on. One moment you are here, and the next...”
>You are gone.

“In eternity, where there is no time, nothing can grow, nothing can become. Nothing changes. So death created time, to grow the things that it will kill. And you are reborn. But into that same life that you have always been born into.”
>You shudder awake with those words running through your head.
>Wherever you are, it is not that camp-fire in the savannah. You're surrounded by a fog. You feel neither cold nor heat.
>You feel as if a moment has passed since you have awoken, and yet at the same time you can hardly remember a time before the fog. Before this place.
>Anonymous moves to stand, separate from your own will. You want to simply close your eyes and fall asleep, return to the bosom of reality. And yet, here you stand.
>You return to your body, and you feel snow falling on you. How you could say it was snow you do not know. You cannot see it. Cannot feel the cold it should have. But you feel a thousand touches on your skin, and for some reason you imagine snow.
>You hold out your closed hand, and when you open it there is a single snowflake in your palm.
“Wow. I must be tripping balls.”
>You close your fist again and look around. There is only the fog for as far as you can see, but that is hardly any great distance.
>No, if you were going to get more from this vision quest than snow and fog you'd have to move.
>Putting one foot in front of the other, you move through that grey smoke.
>You could not say how far you walked, for this place is without landmarks, without definition.
>Nor could you say for how long you made your way. For this place is without time, without perception.
>But eventually you found yourself with stone beneath your bare feet. A curiosity. There's a noise behind you, and as you look you see yourself.
>In the darkness and shade of the fog, you can only see a single spire jutting out of the ground. And there at its root, lies you
>There's a hole in your chest. Blood dripping from that great wound slowly. Your shaking. Whispering something to yourself. Your copy glances up, towards something you cannot see, and then... He disappears.
“Okay... That's weird.”
>You turn again, and this time there's another copy ahead of you. Beneath your feet is dirt. Warm and wet.
>You gasp.
>The copy ahead has his chest open. You can see his heart and lungs and all the things that kept him going. Kept him breathing. Your shaking again. A blank look in your eyes. There are no final words before he collapses again into the fog.
“All right...”
>You close your eyes shut, force the sight of this place away from your mind. But even as you close your eyes you only feel as if you have opened them again. You try again and again to force your eyes to close. To force yourself to see nought. But you cannot close your eyes.
>You hold your arm over your eyes, to block the sights you see. To hide your own corpse appearing again and again. And again.
>There's screaming in your skull. It hurts to look away. It hurts to hide. The pain eventually grows so great that you cannot keep hiding. When you remove the comfort of your arm blocking your vision you gasp.
>Not one, not two, but nearly forty of your corpses are ahead of you. You can see all manner of wounds, illnesses and tragedies that have befallen your copies over and over and over again.
>The ages of these copies vary wildly. Some are so old their hair has started to go grey. Some younger than even you.
>And then they all dissolve. From time and memory, they fade. You know somehow that they are forgotten.
>You turn on your feet, and your heart stops for a moment.
>An older you sits at the foot of a great tree. Half of his face and body is burnt beyond relief. His hair ablaze. He looks to you with his one good eye, and to your horror, he speaks, with your voice.
>”Here again are we?”
>You dare not return the strange greeting.
>He shrugs, and ash falls from his shoulders.
>”No matter. When you awaken you shall know what I know. Remember what I remember. And you will eventually come here again, just to say the same things.”
>Your copy waves his arms to where the dozens of copies of you once lay dying.
>”You are trapped. By this nightmare you keep waking up into. You shall not be remembered. You shall be forgotten. Even you will forget your time. Your friends and loved ones will remember a different face. A different name. And you shall be reborn. But into the same life.”
>You don't understand him.
>”Do not be just another one of them. Make sure they cannot hope to envision one of their own doing what you did. If you cannot be remembered as yourself, at least be something different from them.”
>He moves to stand.
>”Why should they get to remember? To be remembered? Why are you here, only to die over and over again? Did you deserve this?”
>In the back of your mind, you remember a mantra you used to tell yourself.... Something... Something about the world we create.
>And then you remember. You've been dying here over and over again. Everyone you loved, lost or died after you cannot even remember who you were. They attach your failings and accomplishments on a stranger. And you cannot escape. You cannot go back home.
>You've been here before. And you will again.
>”Make yourself unlike any other. Make them unwilling to attach yourself to one of their own. Be something fouler than them. And you shall be remembered.”
>For how long had you been visiting this place? For how much longer would you keep coming here again and again?
>What were you compared to the Anonymous' that came before. And the Anonymous' yet to come.
>What you be remembered as? Some Zebra that didn't even look like you? Some animal?
>You were better than that. You deserved to be remembered. You had to make them remember.
>And as the flames grow on your copy sitting in the roots of that tree, you watch the spear in his hand stay cold. Fight against the flames.
>It all comes to you. You would have your legacy. You would be infamous. You would make sure that those that came after you were gone wouldn't even wish to attach your accomplishments and trophies to any one of their own kind. Perhaps even any kind.
>Eternity stretches before you, as it always has, even without you knowing.
>And you are gone.