Second Chances Chapter 2 - Twilight

>When you come to, you find yourself in some kind of tribal hut. All kinds of goofy shit hangs off the walls, like a freaky voodoo Applebees. If your head wasn’t splitting before, it certainly is now as you smack it as you bolt up.
“OW, FUCK.”
>”I see you’re awake, my mysterious friend. I suppose it means you are on the mend.”
>You shake your head as you look around. That zebra you swore talked to you is attending some kind of bubbling cauldron.
>Perfectly sized to cook you.
>Shut up brain, I would think if it wanted to cook me, it would have done so.
>The zebra swishes her tail as she turns to you with a bowl of bubbling green liquid, giving you enough of a view to confirm that it is likely a she.
>”Drink this tonic from my cup, you will find it will perk you right up.”
>What’s with the rhymes?
“Yeah, like you can make me dri-“ You’re cut off as the zebra pokes you in the forehead, your mouth going slack like a lobotomized idiot. After dumping the concoction down your throat, she pokes that spot again and you regain your muscle control, coughing a little.
>Searching for drivers required to handle this…none found.
>Casting away all your fucks to give, you spin on the hard bed and plant your feet firmly on the ground. The metal clank you hear as you do so confirms that rusty sword you found is next to it, and this Zebra seems to have left your dong-curtain where it was.
>”I would imagine you have many questions in all, but first, tell me what it is you are called.”
“I….” What does it matter? You gave up your name when you gave up the life attached to it. “I don’t have one. I no longer need it.”
>The zebra cocked her head to one side, getting just close enough to you to rustle your jimmies, staring at you like she was reading your soul like a Denny’s menu. “If that is what you wish, I supposed I will just call you Anonymous.”
>Do what you gotta do, crazy talking afterlife horse.
“So…the afterlife is a creepy forest with a creepy talking horse? Man, have the Christians got shit wrong.” That’s right, bro. Stall with sarcastic humor while your mind defrags in hopes of finding enough space to store fucks to give.
>”I am afraid, my friend, I am very much alive. Believe me when I say that I am a pony who would not lie.” You try to filter this into your overworked cranium as the zebra backs away, picking up the rusty sword and dropping it in your lap. “You should keep this like a trusted friend, its true purpose will be revealed to you in the end.”
>In the end? What end? Wasn’t giving yourself a lead aspirin supposed to be the end? You open your mouth to speak, but the zebra interrupts.
>”I summoned a friend to help shed some light. She should be here soon, the ever-reliable-“
>Zebra-lady is cut off by the sound of her door opening. Looking over, you see a pastel-purple horse, a little smaller than the zebra. This one’s got a horn and some kind of tattoo on its’ ass.
>”Sorry Zecora, I came as soon as I got your messa-“ The newcomer’s jaw stops mid-word as she sees you, staring at you like you’re the freak here.
>I dunno, if this world is inhabited by talking horses, maybe you are the freak.
>Whatever brain, at least this one doesn’t speak in rhyme.
>While you bantered with that voice in your head, the purple one disappeared in a flash of light, reappearing in your face even closer than zebra-lady was. Inner monologue to jimmies, commence rustling. I repeat, commence rustling.
>”OHMIGOSHOHMIGOSHOHMIGOSH I’ve never seen anything LIKE you what’s your name can you talk where did you come from what’s with the sword are you a-“ She looks under your kilt. “-male what are you doing here what do you eat what’s your sign what’s with those things on your forehooves where’s you’re cutie ma-“
You interrupt this hyperactive…thing with a finger to her snout, pushing her back out of your personal space. “Look, talking horse lady, I’m sure I’m super-interesting and all, but if this is hell, then I must be on the seventh level, so if you would be so kind as to point me to a nice, fire-free corner, I’ll get on with my eternal damnation, thank you.”
>The purple one stamps her hooves and shakes her head with a snort, looking at you like you just used a racial slur. “First of all, I am not a –horse,- I am a PONY.” With that, she’s back up in your jimmies.
>Guess she doesn’t like being called a horse.
>Ya think?
>The hor- …pony continues. “Second, I have a name. It is Twilight Sparkle. Third, you are not in this ‘hell’ place, you’re in Equestria, and FINALLY… OHMIGOSH you can talk what’s your name where did you come…”
>OH GOD IT’S RANTING AGAIN.
>Next thing you know, you’re trudging along a dirt path with this Twilight p0ny. Eventually she silenced herself to tell her your name, but every nugget of information she’s given just elicits more questions. Even now, as you go with her to this ‘Ponyville’ place, all she has is more questions.
>”So, what brings you here.”
“Don’t know, I just woke up back in that forest.”
>”Where were you before this?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
>”What’s with the junky old sword?”
“Found it. Zebra lady told me to keep it.”
>”Zecora. What do you eat?”
“All kinds of things.”
>”Like what?”
”I don’t know. Meat, veggies, grains…you know, potatoes and stuff.”
>”An omnivore, interesting. I’ll have to include that in my letter to the Princess.”
“A princess?”
>”Yes, Princess Celestia. She rules over all of Equestria with her sister, and raises the sun and moon. She’s my teacher!” Twilight seems especially proud of this.
“Cool. What’s with that tramp stamp?”
>”Oh, you mean my cutie mark? All ponies get these, it denotes their special talent. Do you have one?”
“Not that I’m aware of…”
>You lose track of time by the time you reach the outskirts of the town. It’s still the dead of night, so the streets are pretty bare. For being a society of talking ponies, the architecture looks eerily similar to something you would see at a theme park, if only more cartoonish. Eventually, you come to your destination…a giant goddamn tree with windows and a goddamn door. A sign with a picture of a book suggests it’s a library.
>Great, your new pal lives with the Keebler elves.
>Those cookies kick ass.
>Shut up, stomach.
>Stomach is right though, you could stand to eat a bit. Twilight opens the door as the two of you enter. Beyond all rhyme and reason, a fire roars in a wooden fireplace in a home made completely of wood.
>Nothing bad happens.
>”Oh hey Twi, what did Zecora wan…” You turn to face what appears to be a miniature purple and green dragon. Judging by the voice, it’s a he.
>You’re pretty sure your jimmies are just as rustled as his is.
>Woah, Twilight, who’s this guy?”
>”Spike, this is Anonymous. He’s going to be staying with us awhile. Can you fix up the guest bed please?”
>Spike looks you over, fingering his chin like he thinks he’s studious. “Well, at least he has claws like I do, I guess that’s cool. Sure are ugly though.” The dragon turns and walks off to his task.
“Ugly? Why you little…”
>Twilight chuckles nervously. “Don’t mind him, he’s just a baby dragon. Sit down anon, I bet you’re hungry.”
>You sit on a nearby stool, your eyes as wide as the dinnerplates you hope will be loaded with food. You can practically taste it now…bacon, eggs, hash browns, nice buttery toast, a big heaping bowl of…
>…daisies?
>”Eat up!” Twilight beams.
>…shit.