Talking Animal in Horseland v. 5, Imprisoned Abroad edition

>Your restraints were keeping you from holding Pinkie as you would have liked.
>Between the two of you, it had been decided that the more restrictive restraints had been removed in the interest of your welfare.
>Your strictly factual account may be worthless if they had means to compel ‘explanations’.
>These usually entailed complete fabrications in your experience, so if that were the case your guilt or innocence would be entirely a result of the whims of the judge.
>Honestly, that’d make a lot of your job easier.
>Anyways, excepting some bizarre observation already happening or a pre-existing agenda against Pinkie and/or Fluttershy, their conduct thus far was absolutely defensible.
>Rocksolid
>Airtight
>Above reproach
>Which is why you were particularly worried about what you two were about to do next.
>You brought your hands from her from her throat to her chin, daring your nails through her coat.
>She raised her chin higher, drawing the skin tighter, relishing the feel of you “claws” at her throat, extending the moment a little longer.
>You felt the low rumble of pleasure in her throat as you did so.
>Thumb and forefinger on her chin, you gently guided her unresisting head down.
>As you brought her down her skin shifted under your touch, her lips parting with a barely audible ‘pop’.
>Drawing her down further you see that her eyes are closed, the vision of unselfconscious sensuality in her enjoyment.
>Without  her eyes to get lost in your next point of focus in on her half-open lips, moist and inviting, with the barest hint of amusement.
>You tuck her chin further, drawing your face closoer to hers.
>Her lips safely out of reach, you rest your forehead against hers, conscious of a sudden pout of disappointment.
>You draw a deep breath, slightly ragged, in through your nose.
>Her scent!
>You hold that breath for a count of five before releasing it slowly through your mouth, jealous of having to give it up.
>Unexpectedly, Pinkie inhales deeply, breathing in your grudging exhalation.
>You felt your face flush at the thought, your palms suddenly much too warm.
>You exchange a few more heavy breaths, enjoying her scent a bit longer.
“Okay, Ponka,” you sigh, accepting the inevitable.
>”Aww…” she complained.
“Once more then,” you continue in spite of her protests.
>You feel her frustrated desire as you withdraw your hand.
 “What is our number one goal in the upcoming exchange?”
>She looks a bit sullen at that.
“Pinkie...” you say, warningly.
>”Survive”
“Survive with honor,” you clarify.
>She’s unhappy about the distinction.
>It sounded well enough to her ears at first.
>Until you clarified that she wasn’t aware of what notions of honor you had.
>You used the example of capture being viewed as shameful by some cultures, but a person could find self-termination equally repugnant for whatever reason.  A person like that had some ready available options to attempt to compel his captors to kill him, and the secondary effects of that attempt could get messy.
>When you asked if she would hold you in place for the Guards to spear your flesh as she had stopped you, however momentarily, for Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle to detain you as you were now, well…she didn’t take it well.
>You didn’t mean to upset her, but it’d be unfair to go about this business without illustrating the possibility that she may not understand what motivates you.
>And you weren’t about to share that with her.  But you weren’t above sharing a few things.
“As a prisoner it is my express charge to escape.  It’s important that anything I may plot, as it were, is only executed after I have been discharged from your custody to that of the Royal Guard.  To keep it from being, actionably, your fault.”
“However, I would also like for you to survive the exchange.  That MEANS,” voice raising, “that if the Guard refuses to sign for me, if they do not elect to identify themselves, you DO NOT fight them about it.  Document their refusal, sign statements from witness to the transfer, get notarized copies if possible.  Include copies for local government as part of your official complaint.”
>You lower your voice to take some of the sting from your previous words.
“Can you do that for me?”
>”O…Okay,” she reluctantly agrees.
>You had considered the value in including the head of local municipal government before thinking better of it.
>Mayors may have once been representatives of the Crown personally appointed by the Diarchy, the likes of which would make even Royal Guardsponies consider their actions twice just to be sure they were acting in the bounds of their authority.
>It could even still be the true, but that didn’t appear to be the case with one Mayor Mare.
>You tell her anyways, just to see if she can make all these moving parts in place soon enough.
>Twilight neglected to share with you what time the exchange would occur.
“Ideally you’d have the local civil authority present to witness it, just to give it an extra bit of legitimacy due to all the other irregularities here, but that may not be worth the time spent or ink of her signature.”
>”Why is that?”
“Because Mayor Mare looks like she’d fold at the first Royal Guard to give her a mean look,” you blandly answer.
>Pinkie giggles at that.
“I don’t mean to strain her loyalty unduly should she be pressed to affirm or deny the contents of the paperwork if at a later time she starts getting some hard questions thrown her way,” you clarify.
“Anyways,” you continue, “I believe Twilight will be our greatest asset here.”
>You take a moment to run your tongue over your teeth, thoughtful for moment.
>Touching the flats of your wisdom teeth on your right side, you run it across to the left, mindful that you may not have all you teeth in the coming days.
“Twilight may have no authority to tell the Guard what to do, but her desire to appropriately document everything will work for us.  And by ‘us’, I mean me, the anonymous creature of indeterminate origin and legal status.”
>You punctuate that statement by pressing your fingertips to her nose.
>BOOP!
>Her nose scrunches at that, and her eyebrows knit together at the gesture.
“If the ponies are smart, they’ll realize how ill-advised it is to get between the Captain of the Guard and his sister, the personal student to one of two Demiurges who rule Equestria.”
>”Oh come on!  She’s not that bad, is she?”
“You’re asking the wrong party, Penka.”
“But no, I’m afraid that the truth of the matter is irrelevant.  What matters is belief, hope, and doubt.  The guards may know that they’ve been detailed by the Captain of the Guard at the behest of the Diarchy, but these poor sops are ultimately subject to the same whims that I am, and just as likely to be crushed for basically no reason.”
>”That’s…not very nice.”
“This whole business isn’t very nice.  I just hope this is a matter that your princesses address personally rather than fobbing me off to some low- or mid-level judiciary proceedings.”
“I suppose that in one respect I should be thankful to your overzealous friend.  If I face destruction, maiming, or long-term imprisonment at least I have the opportunity to have it be at the behest of your ‘immortal God-Kings’ instead of some rural justice.”
>You bite the last word off with an extra bit of venom.
>”They’re the Princesses, not…what you said.  Not ‘Kings’ anyways.”  She puffs her cheeks, though this is more cute than threatening.
“It’s a translation of a gender neutral pronoun.  I meant no disrespect.”
>Her expression softens at that, but not before hardening in mock seriousness.
>You smile at her warmly.
>The light seeping through the cracks in the shed played upon her coat, getting your first glimpse of her namesake pink.
>Light?
>Pinkie sees the alarm cross your face before you suppress it.
>”What’s wrong?”
“It’s light enough that you can begin your paperwork.”
>You’d talked this through several times, but you wanted to run through it one more time for good measure.
“You won’t have any sort of pre-made forms, so your hand-written one will have to do.  Any details you omit that are germane to the Guards’ interest you can expect to be questioned about afterwards.  If they care, that is.”
“But moving on,” you continue, “the following should be considered the bare minimum: designator for myself in lieu of name, which I’m not sharing, to be used in all subsequent paperwork.  Party that is yielding custody, party’s signature, as well as date and time.  Receiving party designation, signature, date and time.  Witness signatures to that same effect.  Some space for a notary, though to be honest I’ve never been involved in that business.  They’ll know it well enough.”
>Now for something new, however.
“In addition to everything else, you need to submit alongside the transfer paperwork the medical assessment.”
>You see her moment of panic.
>”But—“
“Don’t worry about it,” you quickly interrupt.  “As a secondary effect of being detained as a “dangerous animal”, Fluttershy is more than qualified to prepare and submit that for your approval.”
>You hesitate a moment, considering how best to broach the next subject.
“Pinkie, you freely acknowledge that you are not qualified medically to assess my health, and are unaware of what factors constitute ‘healthy’ for me?”
>”Well…no, I don’t.”
>You raise your eyebrow at that.
>”I mean, yes, of course.”
“It’s important that you affirm that when you concur with the medical assessment being prepared by Fluttershy.  Please!”
>She looks troubled at that.
>”She’s not going to…lie, is she?”
“Well, I can’t speak for what you or she will submit in your respective paperwork.  It would be inappropriate for me to do so, “ you say lightly.
>You speak your following words slowly, with deliberate and considered care.
“Fluttershy will be making her assessment based on rough estimates extrapolated from her long-time association with a variety of creatures, both mundane and…otherwise, in addition to any baseline she may have been able to determine over the course of these past six months.”
>You take a deep breath, shrinking a bit as you exhale.
“And no, she won’t be lying.   It’s far more important that she tell the truth in the face of so many ready lies that will be prepared by the illustrious members of the Royal Guard.”
>”You really think the Guardsponies would do that?  Just go and tell lies?”
“To tell the truth…ahem!”
>You clear your throat.
“They’ll be as honest as they’re allowed to be.  The Guard may very well be both rational and reasonable, staffed by people, or rather, ponies who don’t abuse those in their care unless expressly charged to do so as part of their duties.  They could be honest and forthright to their own detriment.  And the consequences for myself would still be much the same.”
>Pinkie looks bemused at that.
>You watch her struggle with it, seeing the path of the elusive truth in her eyes.
>She looks for it on the ground, eyes darting left and right, before she considers the ceiling.
>Nope!  Not there either.
>”I don’t see how that works at all!” she complains.
>She’s a bit angry now.
“This is a fools business, Pinkie.  I’m trying to limit my foolishness to what I know, even if you don’t have the appropriate traditions or institutions to address or resolve my situation as I’d like.”
>You cup her chin sadly.
“It’s just a series of goal posts I’d like to hit on my way to judgment.”
>She pushes your hand away.  Her voice carries a bit of heat.
>”But what about all this?”
>She angrily gestured to some of her handwritten (hoofwritten?) drafts she’d started work on.
“A record.  In case the future ever needs to condemn some ‘pony’ for these practices.  Even if it’s just in the self-serving academic sense.”
“Maybe they’ll see what institutions are missing by looking for where everything fell apart.”

>She was decidedly less excited about things now.
>Well, at least you doused her ardor a bit.
>Regardless of what said, you really needed the Guard to be wrong.
>You needed them to be callous and brutal.
>Fluttershy and Pinkie’s reports would stand in contrast to whatever the Guard would put together.
>You lay back in the dirt, noting the growing light that peeked through the uneven slats.
>”How did you describe yourself earlier?  ‘something’ creature blah blah blah whatever?
“Anonymous creature of indeter—“
>”Yeah, I got space for ten characters here.  ‘Anonymous’ it is then.”
“You could’ve just used a ten-digit number.  Or hell, a much smaller number.  I could be Prisoner #0001”
>”Too bad, it’s already written in ink and I’m not drafting a new form, Anonymous.”