A Message and a Drink

The filly scrambled through the thick layers of ponies, ducking in and around to get through. Luckily, she was small, so it was decently easy for her. Still, every so often a not-so-sober pony would back up or swing out a hoof abruptly, taking her instincts for a spin on whether or not she was quick enough to move out of they way before she got hit. She was supposed to deliver a message to somepony.

She was getting paid to do it. She didn't usually take these kinda of jobs, but it was good, clean money, and she owed somepony a favor. It wasn't ridiculously late in the night yet, but there were some that were starting their own personal party earlier, stumbling about and laughing at the oddest situations. She didn't understand pony's infatuation with beer. Maybe old ale or fine wine, since they were expensive and rich ponies like rich things, but all it seemed to be is trouble.

Misfit finally found the pony. It was an older-looking stallion, not so much to be a grandpa, but more like an aged uncle. The pony was a yellow-green, with gray hair spotted with white. He had scruffy whiskers and blank eyes, gulping down a drink in one gulp. The filly politely tapped on his shoulder. "Uhm, sir, I have a message..."

To get the stallion to actually listen to her, she had to take the seat next to him and nudge away his drink. After telling him the message, she smiled uncomfortably and got up to leave. However, the stallion pushed her back into her seat, guffawing loudly. "Eh, what's wrong? Why leave so soon? Surely ya don't have to go yet!" He barked. "U-uh, sir, I really have to g-go..." She tried to explain, but to no use. She was weak, and her horn hidden under her hat did nothing but shower sparks, which wouldn't help this situation. "Aw, c'mon lass, ya don't need to! What are ye, 13, 14? You haven't had yer first drink yet, have ya? Well, time to change that!" Gripping her arm, he called the bartender for a drink. She could feel his hot breath on her face.

Oh, if she could only she could get away.

Rosella grimaced as she entered the bar. She was wrapped in a deep purple cloak with her mane tied up behind her head in a knot and a long pink scarf wrapped around her neck and chest. The layers of attire served multiple purposes: One, it was cold outside, and being made of rock didn't help matters. Two, she was made out of rock ("It's MINERAL!" her friend Calla would protest, but mineral seemed too... "Vitamins and minerals" for her liking), and very reflective rock at that. Three... there were things on her body she'd rather go unseen.

The pretty crystal inventor had only ever been to a bar a few times in her relatively short life. Most of them were rather painful memories, and she didn't like to dwell on them for long, but the Thing had happened in this very tavern. She didn't know why she was back. Maybe to tie up loose ends. Maybe because she hadn't had the barest drop of wine for almost a year. Maybe her instincts were telling her that something fishy was going on inside.

No matter the reason, there was no excuse to back out now. She slipped up to a barstool, strands of crystalline hair falling out of its messy bun and throwing off blinding specks of light. She grimaced and moved away from the candles.

No sooner had she asked for a small, fruity something-or-other that she noticed a filly three seats down. Well... filly wasn't the right word. Young mare probably fit her better. She looked a little bedraggled to the quiet mare, and it was slightly bothersome. Never mind the patches on what have once been a lovely hat... she was all skin and bones. Rose felt a pang of guilt in her chest when she remembered how depressing she had once looked, like a few sheets of crystal draped over a diamond skeleton.

She couldn't tear her eyes off of the young mare. She was certainly too young to be in a tavern by herself, but she was glancing around like she was afraid of getting whacked in the muzzle with a stray hoof. As she did, she was also speaking to an older stallion in a hushed voice, looking like all she wanted to do was get out of the tavern and do her very best to avoid returning. With a loud, annoying laugh, the older stallion restrained her and pulled her closer to the bar, calling for a drink. She shied away from him, looking like she would do anything to get his hooves off of her, and Rose felt a sudden flash of anger go through her body.

She purposely clicked her hooves against the ground so it would be heard by the duo. The heavy sound of falling rocks on wood erupted from her hooves as she made her way to the seat next to the filly.

"Sir," she said, her voice strained, "this filly is underage. You're clearly making her feel uncomfortable, and I think it would be best if you left her alone."

The filly hadn't even noticed the mare sit down only a few seats away. She was too busy with the stallion. Misfit continued trying to get away, telling the him earnestly how she had to leave. However, he was hearing none of it, shoving down more drinks as he tightened his grip, up until her shoulder was was nearly touching his. Luckily, the random drink he had ordered for her was taking a long while. Perhaps the bartender knew what was going on and was stalling. Perhaps the drink just took awhile and he didn't care at all. Either way, she was still thankful.

Nopony was doing anything about the situation. Many of them probably couldn't even see what was going on.  And the ones that did see, probably just didn't care. It was quite obvious that she was from the streets, and it seemed almost normal to ponies to treat her like she was invisible. They just looked straight through her, as if she wasn't even there, as if they wouldn't believe a filly could be homeless in their beloved town. It soiled their carefree views. She didn't really know why, but that's how it was.

Suddenly, she heard loud hoof-steps. They were much too heavy and sharp to be a normal pony's, and for a moment, she thought it was a guard, with their metal armor and noisy horseshoes. But as she whirled her head around, she realized it was, in fact, a mare. Not just that, but an incredibly beautiful mare. Her fur, which was mostly hidden under a cloak, shimmered like a refined jewel. She had never seen a pony like this. She had only heard of them from old storybooks.

Misfit's eyes widened at her words. Oh Faust, she was actually helping her. The filly's view on this mare was growing greater by the second. She just hoped the stallion would actually listen to her. "Oh, really?" The stallion garbled, wrapping his arm firmly around Misfit. She squirmed, now pressed up against the sweaty pony. "Who are you to say what makes this little lass uncomfortable? And who says she's underage, huh? Do ya got a birth certificate of hers to prove it? I'm just buyin' her a drink, no harm in that, huh? In fact, she'll owe me! I'mma introducing her to something grand! So why don't you bug off, ya-"

He stopped in mid-sentence, squinting up at the mare. At first he seemed shocked to find how obviously pretty this pony was, but soon a wide smile spread on his face. "Well well well, nevermind then." He shoved Misfit off of him, and she fell to the wooden ground. "Sure, I'll leave her alone. Playin' around with foals ain't no fun anyway. I ain't no babysitter. You, on the otherhoof, I'd love to spend some quality time with, eh, beautiful?" He hiccuped, putting a hoof on the mare's shoulder.

Misfit's fire-colored eyes were blazing. She glared darkly at the green stallion, picking herself off of the hard floor. She was fair game for torment. She was a street-urchin, an alley-rat. It was almost understandable. But to disrespect such an elegant, lady-like pony like her, who came to her rescue... it was disgraceful. Unforgivable. If the mare didn't do something about the way the stallion was treating her, she sure the heck would.

(Oh my gosh, I am so sorry for the length. It's just, I was waiting for the reply and got really excited and I've been bored all day, so I kinda got carried away. Sorry about that. Don't think you have to make a post nearly as long, of course. This is just me being bored.)

Rose was slowly starting to mix the stallion's voice with the din of the crowd as he kept talking. Excuses, excuses... she was sober, he was drunk, and there's a heck of a lot of pain when it comes to a slap or two from any crystal pony. She was certain that annoyance was showing on her face, though that never really seemed to throw off anypony. He looked up, faltered, and suddenly switched subjects as he shoved the young mare to the floor.

"Well well well, nevermind then. "Sure, I'll leave her alone. Playin' around with foals ain't no fun anyway. I ain't no babysitter. You, on the otherhoof, I'd love to spend some quality time with, eh, beautiful?"

And then he touched her.

There was a drunken hoof on her scarf.

She watched in horror as his hoof forced the scarf off of her neck, where it fluttered to the floor and came to rest in a puddle of something she'd rather not think about. The scarf itself wasn't that big of a loss, and it didn't bother her nearly as much as revealing what was underneath.

With a flash of scintillating light and a wicked sharp hoof, she sent him sprawling to the floor. The tavern went silent as she glared down with burning gold eyes at his still figure. The blow to his jaw had knocked the pony out like a light, but she felt no remorse. Almost angrily, she dropped a few bits on the counter and wrapped her cloak further around her body, to hide what was underneath. She extended a hoof to the filly.

"Come on," she beckoned, her eyes softening. "Let's go."

Misfit watched as the stallion's hoof forced the mare's scarf to slip to the ground. With the scarf off, she saw the nearly blinding shine of the ponies skin before the pony quickly wrapped her cloak around the exposed spot. She really was one, then. A crystal pony.

A loud crack echoed through the tavern as the mare struck the drunken oaf. Now, Misfit was not a filly for violence, but honestly, he deserved it. He had acted terrible, and the mare was only acting in self-defense. Misfit watched as the stallion fell to the floor. She glowered heavily at him, though it was slightly dimmed compared to before. She despised him and his actions, but somepony had laid down the punishment, and that was enough for her. She just hoped the buffoon would remember the lesson.

Even though he was a rather repulsing pony, he was still someone. She propped him against the bar-stool, rapidly checked to make sure his head wasn't bleeding and he was breathing correctly(well, as correct as you can be, being extremely drunk). After figuring that he was alright, she took her hooves away from him as hastily as possible. She wiped off her hooves on a nearby towel. Misfit didn't want to touch him any more than needed. Ugh, he really stunk. His body emitted such a heavy stench of warm liquor, she wouldn't be surprised to find alcohol in his veins.

When the filly looked back up, a hoof was being offered to her. It was the mare's, with a more delicate look in her eyes. "Come on. Let's go."

Misfit nodded, taking her hoof gratefully. However, she didn't let the kind mare lead her. She knew the streets. She knew how this worked. "N-not out the front door." She whispered. "Ponies heard the hit. Guards will c-come. Unless you want to stay answering qu-questions for hours, come with me." She paused. "...Trust me, please. You h-helped me. Let me help you."

Rose looked carefully at the filly as the decision churned in her head. The first thought might be to just leave through the front door and ignore ponies. Last time she was in this tavern, she dumped a drink on somepony and slapped him. Then again, she was an emotional wreck, and she had a feeling that many of the ponies had turned a blind eye to her our of sympathy. This time, she had knocked somepony else.

She also had connections within the guard, but she shuddered to think of using that link. She'd rather not have to deal with said link, as she was completely terrifying and, er, violent, so that probably wasn't a good idea.

Only one thing was really enough to make her agree to the filly's suggestion. If she went out the front, she might have to run, and running would either blind somepony with the strange lighting in the tavern, or someone might see the scar on her chest. She hated showing anybody that scar, willingly or not. It was a reminder that she was never sure that she would stay herself, and though she had gotten better at controlling her other personality... it was best not to risk it.

"Very well," she conceded. "If you think it's... best."

Misfit watched as the mare made up her mind. When she finally answered, the filly nodded, and wasted no time. She led the pony through the crowd, whom was getting over the shock of the hit and getting back to enjoying themselves. No doubt they'd break down in front of the guards afterwards. She brought her through a forked hallway in the back. Picking the right, the opposite way of the bathrooms, they galloped seemingly deeper into the tavern. However, soon they came to a crooked door, in which she opened swiftly, ushering the mare outside.

The cool night air hit them, and she couldn't help but breath it in. Finally she could have a breath that wasn't stifled with alcohol and sweat. Sometimes those environments can be exhilarating and maybe even fun, but to her, tonight, it had just made her anxious. She leaned on the back wall to catch her breath. They were in a small alley, the space between the tavern and the shop next door. Alleys always seemed to be the place she'd be by the end of the day. After brushing herself off, she looked to the mare. "Thank you so much, by the w-way."

"That stallion could've... w-well, I'm honestly not sure what could have h-happened. Bad things, anyway." The filly stared at the ground, then back up, looking almost happy. "But then you came along! You r-really saved my flank. You were, well, rather amazing back there."

Misfit held out a hoof, grinning shyly, yet brightly. "I'm Misfit!" She stated. However, she quickly brought her arm back down, realizing that the mare may not want to touch her. She's not good at this 'socializing' thing.

Rose followed the filly out the door, taking a deep breath of fresh, crisp air. She had made up her mind. Next time, she was going to visit a nice restaurant in Canterlot and get her alcohol fix there. It would be a lot better than sweaty bars full of drunken, shady ponies.

"Of course," she told her warmly. "I wouldn't have let him go any further. Ponies like that disgust me." She shuddered, but blushed as more compliments came in. "Thank you. It was nothing, really."

Rose watched Misfit stick out her hoof, then bring it back down very quickly. Rose felt a pang of guilt. She supposed she had come off as not-so-friendly, but that was more due to the abnormality of the situation and her short fuse. She offered an easy hoof.

"Rosella," she said. "My name is Rosella Petals, but ponies call me lots of things. The most common are usually 'Rosie' and 'Rose.'"

Her tone got even softer as she observed the filly. It occurred to her that the filly seemed used to escapes and alleys, and mixed with the disheveled state of her hair and attire... it became clear to her that Misfit was homeless.

"Would you like to come home with me and get some hot chocolate?" she asked, her breath rising into the air in white clouds. "It's cold outside, and it might be nice to get the smell of stale alcohol and sweaty pony off."

The filly's eyes widened a little as the mare herself offered her hoof, and she broke into a silly grin. She gingerly shook the hoof, which felt stone-like, but lighter then she expected. "Rosella? That's... t-that's a beautiful name! I hope you don't mind if I call you Miss Rose." She responded. She had a tendency to call nearly all ponies 'sir' or 'miss', and the only time she wouldn't is if they were her age, they were quite close, or the pony insisted otherwise.

There was a few seconds of silence as the two stood in the chill of the night. It seemed like Rose was analyzing her, which made Misfit feel a bit shy. She shivered, hugging her torn-up scarf closer. It sure was cold tonight. She'd probably need to make a little newspaper nest before she went to sleep...

"Would you like to come home with me and get some hot chocolate? It's cold outside, and it might be nice to get the smell of stale alcohol and sweaty pony off."

This mare never ceased to amaze her. Misfit stuttered, unsure what to say. "O-oh! Uhm, well, I wouldn't want to be a nuisance, y-you see. You've been kind enough, you don't have to, well, c-continue being so nice if you don't want t-to... I'd hate to take up your night..." She gazed down at her hooves, yet still continued. "Though... if you're r-really alright with it... I'd love to, actually."

But she couldn't just leave her things here. Before she had went in, she had left her essentials on the side of the tavern, left in a small cardboard box. Leaving it alone for an hour or two would be fine, but an entire night? Other street-walkers or guards would find it for sure. The filly was left with the awkward decision on whether or not she should tell Rose. "But, b-before we go, do you think I could maybe get my, er, stuff? Like, I have a few things that I travel with, and, I kinda don't want to lose them. I-it isn't much, of course. It's just on this corner wall, h-here. Is that alright?" She felt terrible, since she knew she was probably imposing a little on Miss Rosella's thoughtful invitation. But if she lost her lute, or her picture of her parents, or Lamby, she wasn't sure what'd she do.

"You can call me anything, really," Rose assured, looking up at the stars. "Miss Rose is fine."

She watched as her breath continued to rise in clouds, reaching high up into the sky before they dissipated into nothingness. It might have been peaceful, standing in that alley, were it not for the shivers going through herself and her new companion.

She made her offer, giving an almost hopeful expression to Misfit. She had been living alone for a while, and the thought of having another pony for company was warming. Sure, she had started to get friendly with that stallion in the Apothecary, and (though she wouldn't admit it yet) she rather liked him, loneliness was all that she had cloaked herself in since the Thing, and she was secretly hoping that she wouldn't have to spend the night in an empty house again. She could probably go visit Cloud Dancer or Calla Lily, but Calla was busy with the growing Nikki, and, last she had heard, Cloud Dancer had found herself a new special-somepony. It was unlikely they'd have the time or room to admit her.

"O-oh! Uhm, well, I wouldn't want to be a nuisance, y-you see. You've been kind enough, you don't have to, well, c-continue being so nice if you don't want t-to... I'd hate to take up your night... Though... if you're r-really alright with it... I'd love to, actually."

Rose smiled again. "Of course you wouldn't be a nuisance. Why do you think I offered? I certainly wouldn't want to go off on my own on a night like tonight, with the frost biting."

"But, b-before we go, do you think I could maybe get my, er, stuff? Like, I have a few things that I travel with, and, I kinda don't want to lose them. I-it isn't much, of course. It's just on this corner wall, h-here. Is that alright?"

Rose gave a little chuckle. "Of course," she repeated. Thinking for a moment, her expression soured briefly before flickering back to normal. "If you wouldn't mind, could you please get my scarf? You know... clean up the evidence, and such..."

The real reason why she wanted it back was because, she remembered, it was the first scarf she had been given, a present from a fillyhood friend. It wasn't so much that she wanted to remember the filly than she wanted to forget her first defense against stares and pointing hooves, of embarrassment and humiliation. Now that she thought about it, it was probably a bad idea to wear it in the first place. She would have to wash it a few times and lock it away in a trunk somewhere.

Misfit nodded. "Oh, yes, of course!" She replied quickly. "I heard unicorns h-have new magic to read hoof-prints, you know... If you'll excuse me for a moment..." Now she didn't feel quite as bad, having to go back and get her things. She went around the building first, hauling her luggage to their spot. Her living essentials were made up of simply a loos suitcase, a small pot with a few ingredients inside, and a large, old lute. After setting them down, the filly snuck back into the tavern to get the scarf.

Luckily that back door they had come out from wasn't locked. It was decently simple to get through the crowds. Most of the ponies had steered clear of the scarf and the knocked out drunkard, so she was able to access them easily. Before taking another step, she glanced around for guards. They should've been here by then. In fact, that was them at the door wasn't? Ah, yes, with their big steel helmets bobbing next to the other pony's heads like corks. They seemed to be questioning a group of mares right now.

The filly approached the scarf. Covering her hoof with the length of her scarf, she picked it up. It only had a few 'unpleasant' stains on the ends, so should be salvageable. Just as she was making her way back into the crowd, the unconscious stallion let out a loud groan.

She booked it. Diving flexibly through the group of ponies, she tried to get to the exit as soon as possible. She had no idea if anypony had seen her. Right as she went around the last corner and thought she was in the clear, she felt something throw her against a nearby wall.

A colt was right in her face. He was an older teenager, only three or four more years older than her. "Hello there, little filly!" He grinned widely. "You lost? I can help you out, if you want. I mean, anything for a pretty little pony like you..." Oh, Faust, was the annual creep convention being held here tonight? Where were all these inappropriate ponies coming from. Misfit pushed away against his leaning forearms. It wasn't until the alarming sound of armored hooves coming down the hallway that finally made her go into action. She headbutted the colt with the side of her head. As he stood there, the wind knocked out of him, she ran.

Her head was aching because of the headbutt, and she felt nearly dizzy, but she had to keep galloping. Throwing open the door, she raced towards Rose. "There's a creepy colt and probably some guards coming." She frantically whispered. She tied the scarf around her lute's straps, not caring about the stains touching her at the moment, and hoisted the instrument onto her back. She gathered all the rest of her things as well. "Come on, Miss Rose! I have your scarf! Let's go!" She pleaded, hoping she didn't seem rude. She just didn't have the time to be polite at the moment.

Misfit dashed down the alley. She knew the streets of Ponyville. Not as well as Manehattan or Las Pegasus, but she still knew them.

Rose stared after Misfit for a moment as the filly dashed out of the alley and into the darkened streets of Ponyville. She followed, albeit a bit slower, and came to a stop as the filly continued to book it for who-knew-where. Then she grinned a little, but suppressed it, lest the filly think she was making fun of her.

"Misfit, dear," she said calmly. "My house is that way."

She pointed in the other direction with her hoof. With a sigh, she pulled her cloak a little closer around herself and grimaced at the thought of the young mare getting bombarded by creeps... in a bar, no less. It had clearly been a night that Misfit would probably want to forget for future memory sorting. Unless, of course, that nagging voice in her head was right, and only Rosella did that. The mare attempted to suppress the other half of her, the personality of whom she was not supposed to be medically aware, and managed to ignore her for the time being.

Hoping the filly would follow, Rose took off, trotting towards the west end of town. The houses there were a little more spaced out, nearing the lake that separated the town from the large peak that supported Canterlot. They were a little bigger, but not by much, though size had not been a factor when the mare was house shopping. It was the isolation that was key, and key it was, for in the distance was a house on top of a hill that had to be at least a hundred yards from the next.

"Thank you for getting it," she said, frowning a little at the filly's paranoid attitude. Where had she been that she would need that kind of demeanor? Rose hoped she would find out, and find a way to remedy it. Ponyville was relatively crimeless, despite the fullness of the Tavern on weeknights, and, compared to Manehatten, Ponyville was a bubble. Made out of plexiglass. Covered in steel. With a locked and bolted door and a lost key.

Misfit stopped abruptly, digging her hooves into the ground. She turned to Rose, who was now pointing in the opposite direction. "O-oh.... yes, of course. S-sorry about that." She said, blushing. She wasn't used to having a, 'safe house', persay. All she knew was to run until whatever the problem was either couldn't catch up and got tired or just didn't care anymore. It had proven to be very effective over the years.

The filly followed the mare. She was still a bit on edge, but tried to 'flatten her bristles' before Rose noticed it. It seemed like the crystal pony was wrapped up in her own thoughts for a while as they walked. She could only wonder what might be going through her mind. Miss Rose seemed like such a graceful pony, and in-tune with her own head. But rarely no one ever actually was. Usually, to see somepony seeming so even-minded, there was an inner problem going on, and they were just covering it up with a mask. Misfit hoped that wasn't how Rose was. She was such a kind mare. She didn't deserve to have mental strife. Nopony did. Not her, not her friends, not her enemies, not even that drunken stallion at the bar. She knew how painful it could be. If you cover up with a mask for too long, the edges begin digging into your skin, and before you know it, that's who you are. And it's too late to change back.

They were in a new neighborhood, one with more spacing and larger houses. Before her incident, she had lived in a large house. Yes, her, the little street-walking rascal. It had been about the same size as these ones, perhaps even a little bigger. It was getting harder and harder to remember those days. Sometimes she just thought she should try to forget it altogether. But... then she'd forget-

"Thank you for getting it,"

Misfit snapped to attention, flinching slightly. She really had to get a handle on these nerves. The filly looked up at Rose, nodding. "It was no problem! I-I mean, I can understand the importance of a scarf. They can hold a lot of memories." She replied, tugging at her own red scarf. She fumbled with her hooves. "S-sooo.... is that house up there yours?" She asked, pointing to the one on top of the hill. They were getting closer and closer to it. Soon, if they kept up their pace, they would practically be at its doorstep.

Rose followed Misfit's hoof to the house on the hilltop, and she smiled a little.

"It is," she said. "Well... sort of. I share it with another mare, and we switch off time in Ponyville. I tend to travel a lot, but this is one of my more permanent residences. The other one is back home in the Crystal Empire, but it's a little apartment, and I don't really plan on going back anytime soon."

She reached forward when they reached the steps and took the key from inside of one of the crystalline flowerpots next to the door, hidden behind a rather large topaz flower and stuck into the soil. She wondered if the filly had seen, and rather hoped she had, in case there was another frigid night like this one. She opened the door and let Misfit inside, shutting the door behind her and locking it again. Old habit dominated her, especially the haunting memories of a time she didn't even want to think about, and though Ponyville was a flower in the wild world of thorns, she just didn't want to risk theft or worse by leaving her door unlocked.

"Would you like a bath or something to eat first?" she asked, pulling down the hood but not taking off the cloak itself. She was still hiding that thing on her chest.

(Sorry for my lateness and the short reply, I was procrastinating XD)

(Aw, it's completely fine! I've been procrastinating a lot too, so no worries. Besides, your reply is NOT short. Mine are just ridiculously long.)

Misfit nodded. So that settles it. Rose was a true crystal pony, with a home in the Empire and all. She was curious on if she was there when King Sombra took over, but she held her tongue. She would probably not want to talk about it. And the filly could understand why. King Sombra was a tyrannical ruler, more of a shadow than a pony. His heart was said to be blacker than ink, and his rule reigned centuries of woe. Now, she only heard these things from a couple wandering storytellers, so they could be just as true as they could be lies. Either way, it wasn't a good conversation topic.

The filly saw the key be unhidden from the flower pot. The first thought that lept to mind was that she could perhaps use this house at some point for a safe base when Rose was gone, but she quickly waved the idea away. That would technically be breaking into her house. She couldn't do that, especially to a kind mare like Miss Rose. Perhaps if was only a last resort...

As the mare locked the door behind them, Misfit took her time gazing around the room. The warmth of a shelter hit her skin, and she breathed in the smell of the house. Ah. It smelled just like Rose: Light and sweet, yet strong. Her head swiveled about, analyzing each crevice, corner, and coop she could see. Yes, a very good house indeed.

Her wandering eyes halted at Rose. She had pulled down her hood, uncovering her head and mane. Her hair flowed as crystal-like as the rest of her, like threads of diamond. Crystal ponies were truly remarkable, and the beauty and kindness of Rose just made it all the more. Misfit almost questioned why the mare had kept her cloak on, but decided against it, not to mention that she was speaking.

The filly fumbled with both her hooves and words. "Oh, well, I'm okay. I mean, I-I don't need anything. Whatever you wanna do. I'm good, re-" Her stomach groaning loudly answered otherwise. She blushed. "W-well... maybe something to eat would be nice. As long a-as you're alright with that. And if you eat too."

Rose chuckled a little at the sound of Misfit's stomach rumbling. She patted the filly's shoulder and gestured vaguely at nothing.

"Go make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back, and then you can help me with dinner."

She let go and turned to trot up the stairs, soiled scarf in hoof. With a sigh, she looked a little closer at it before dropping it in a waste bin. There was no saving it. Instead, she dropped her cloak on the floor and stepped towards her closet, opening a drawer and extracting a new red scarf, this time only made of red wool. She wrapped it around her neck, standing in front of her mirror to adjust it over the heart-shaped scar on her chest. Satisfied that it had done its job, she felt muscles relax that she hadn't known were stiff and trotted back downstairs.

"What are you in the mood for? I have salad, ingredients to make daisy sandwiches, mac and cheese, pasta... whatever," she said. "You pick. I used to be selective, but I think that's done for me!"

(Argh, no inspiration. Inspire me, Moony!)

(Inspiration..? Well... after this dinner, which will probably take a couple posts, Rose's scarf could... slip. Or perhaps Misfit would ask about the scarf, though she'd probably immediately regret doing so. Then they could go through a kind of 'I show you mine, you show me yours.' Meaning, Rose has that big scar, right? And a traumatizing story with it? Well... there's a reason Misfit wheres her hoof-sleeve-thingies. She's got scars too. We could probably have a nice fun breakdown party! We just have to get through dinner. ...Was that inspirational?)

Misfit nodded. "Alright!"

The filly took more time taking in her surroundings. It truly was a terrific home. It was quaint, but not so much to be stuffy, and elegant, but not so much to be intimidating. ...Okay, maybe a little intimidating. But it was tough for a house not to be intimidating to her, really. She thought about sitting down, but didn't know where she should, or where she was allowed to. Misfit knew Rose was kind, but she wouldn't probably take a liking to a dirty street-urchin sitting on one of her pristine chairs. Instead, she rummaged through her scarf, readjusting it, and taking out a small wooden frame that had hidden beneath its folds. Misfit breathed in relief to see that the picture hadn't been damaged. It had already been cracked months ago, and she didn't want it getting any worse. She then put it back, being careful to conceal it.

The filly rocked back and forth on her hooves. She may be polite, but she still had the curiosity and impatience of a foal. When Rose got back, she was still standing, forgetting about the 'make yourself comfortable' part of the mare's statement.

Misfit felt a little embarrassed by Rose's preposition. She wasn't used to being even noticed, much less asked to choose something. "O-oh... well, pasta sounds great! I-I mean, if you're in the mood for it." She was a little curious by the mare's last sentence. Not only that, but was also wondering about her scarf. It was rather odd to wear clothing inside, even if it was cold... Bah, look who's talking. If Rose was overdressed, then she was clothed like an Eskimo in comparison.

(Quite inspirational, dear Moony.)

"Great," Rose said, smiling. "Come into the kitchen. You can help me get stuff ready. Do you like tomato sauce? I can get a pot of that going for the top."

She led the way into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a container of freshly made pasta she had bought from a restaurant in town, just in case she wasn't able to put it all together herself... as such was the case. Being used to having to do everything by herself, she was still wary of boxed spaghetti, and, as such, there was nothing of the sort in her house.

Her head was still buzzing a tiny bit, but the amount of alcohol she had actually consumed was very little. Confident that it wouldn't hinder her in the least, she filled a pot of water and plopped it on the stove, setting the container of pasta aside.

"Would you mind watching the water?" she asked the filly. "I'll be right back."

It was still rather cold in the house, which she was acutely aware of and minded very much. She put together a fire, striking a match on the rocks around the fireplace in the living room and lighting the tinder with a puff of air. Once the fire was blazing merrily, she returned to the kitchen to check on Misfit and the water.

(Bleh, this was a boring post. Forgive me for posting such an atrocity!)

Misfit followed Rose, taking a last glimpse of the room before she entered the kitchen. "Tomato sauce? Well, h-haven't had it in awhile, but I'm sure it'll be delicious. I-I'm not too picky." She watched as the mare took out the pasta. Pasta. Oh, she loved pasta so much. Now, she loved nearly any nutritious, homey, warm food, but that was besides the point. She still loved pasta. She wondered if they'd put cheese on the top too, but that would probably be expecting room much. A filly can dream, though, right?

"Would you mind watching the water? I'll be right back."

Misfit nodded. It seems like she's been doing that a lot lately. "Oh, yeah, of course!" She stared at the water for a moment, as if daring it to act out. She leaned in to the stove, letting it warm her, but she knew not to get her face too close to the boiling water. At least... Usually. Still, she didn't have to worry as much as other ponies would... It was practically an instinct for her to get nearer to any heat source. That's what you were taught, traveling and sleeping in he cold so often.

The filly leaned in closer. Aah. So warm. It felt so nice on her fur, and the heat of it on her face spread to her poor numbed ears. Then suddenly, a water bubble, the size of a large cherry, popped. She jumped back, letting out a small squeak. And that's why you don't go putting your face up to boiling pots of water, idiot!

Before she could further scold herself, Miss Rose rejoined her in the kitchen. It was only now did she recognize the familiar sound of the crackling of a fire from one of the rooms nearby. "S-so, all done with the fire? I'm glad you came back when you did, c-cause the water is all boiling and ready." She stated, gesturing to the pot.

(Bah, no worries! Mines pretty boring too.)

(OKAY I've forced myself to stop being so lazy, and here I am)

Rose smiled, satisfied that nothing had blown up without reason (that'd happened too many times in the past). She picked up her container of raw pasta and unceremoniously dumped it into the pot. Immediately, the bubble disappeared, and she turned on the vent to keep the steam from blocking out the windows.

"Thank you very much, Misfit," she told the filly. "You're very helpful."

At that, a very tiny something settled on the top of Misfit's hat. Rose looked up to see Bella, her Breezie friend, finding a nice place to nap on Misfit's head. She laughed a little at the sight of it, gesturing up with a glistening hoof at the sleeping fairy pony.

"Don't move too quickly. My friend Bella Aura is sleeping on your head."

She turned back to the pasta and started stirring it, making sure nothing clumped together and turned the spaghetti into a giant ball of goo.

(Go ahead and control Bella, if you'd like, since she's an NPC)

Misfit blushed faintly. Helpful? ....Well, okay... Though it was almost ironic, seeing how she had almost burned her face about five minutes ago.

Suddenly, she felt a small creature land on her hat. It nestled into the fabric, sighing lightly as it found a comfy spot. Birds don't sigh. Nor do they mumble in a mostly unintelligible language.

She had been through too much to be alarmed by stuff like this. Still, it'd be nice to know whether or not the odd little creature was going to eat her brain or something.

"Don't move too quickly. My friend Bella Aura is sleeping on your head."

Ah, so it was supposed to be in the house! That was comforting to know. It must be a pet. Or... maybe not? The way Rose spoke of the creature, it made it seem like she was talking about another pony, not a fluffy dog or a beloved goldfish. It had a really pony-like name, too. Bella Aura. Celestia, even Miss Rose's companions had pretty names. Was she the only one with a boring, short name? Though she really shouldn't complain, seeing how she's the one who chose her name.

Still ...Something that flies... that speaks in a foreign language.... that is probably at least close to pony sentience.... Oh! Could it be...?

Misfit grinned. "Is.... is Bella a Breezie?" The filly whispered, not wanting to wake her(she could only assume it was a girl from her name) up.

She answered herself. Still peering up wondrously at the tip of her hat, Misfit felt the little critter move about, until it's head was sticking over the edge. Oh my gosh. She was bucking adorable. There was a Breezie. On her head. A Breezie. On her head. She almost had to stop herself from squealing. The tiny fairy pony blinked sleepily at her, and she smiled back.

"H...hello." She whispered quietly, not wanting to scare her. Bella nodded, then slumped back into her hat. It was only a few seconds before she heard soft snoring. She raised her voice's volume to speak to Rose, but just barely, not wanting to wake up the snoozing fairy. "Wherever did you find her? I-I thought all the Breezies were supposed to go back to their native land by now..."

"Well, it was a few years back," Rose started, setting her wooden spoon down. "Back when I lived in the Crystal Empire, just after the time lapse ended and we were readjusting to regular pony life. I was watering the flowers on my balcony when I noticed this little thing sitting on my railing. She was just staring at me, completely fascinated. Mind you, I'd never seen a Breezie before, so it was rather a shocker to see a little fairy, right in front of me.

"I was even more shocked when she started talking to me. It was pretty heavily accented, but the fact that she knew Equestrian at all completely blew me away. I was... going through a tough time at the moment, and she just seemed sad. We talked for hours. Finally, the sun had started to set, and it was time for me to head inside and check on my mixtures. I bid her goodbye, and she started waving, but... then she noticed something, and she was suddenly in hysterics, buzzing around in a frenzy and screaming in this really tiny voice. I finally got her to calm down enough, and she explained to me that she had been abandoned by her swarm. There was no way she would be able to get back home without her companions. Then she started on a rant about how they never liked her and it was just the final straw, and even though she didn't like them at all, it hurt that they would abandon her without warning. So, obviously, I felt horrible for her, so I invited her to stay with me until the next harvest season rolled around."

She chuckled a little at the memory of the ecstatic little Breezie, buzzing around in a completely different way.

"Well, next season came and went, but she's never shown any desire to leave. I think she rather likes it here. It's a little dangerous for such a small creature, here in Equestria, but she prefers to spend a lot of time in that-" she pointed at a crystal dollhouse, sitting on a pedestal in the corner of the living room, "-so it's safe enough for her. She's a rather plucky thing, though. Don't be surprised if you get pinched at some point in the night."

Rose resumed her cooking. Satisfied that the noodles were fully heated and cooked, she turned off the stove and drained the pasta, tossing a little olive oil into it before dividing it into two servings.

"I have a little cheese and basil, if you would like some," she suggested.

Misfit was completely engrossed into Rose's story. How terrible it must have been, to be abandoned by your own kind! She attempted to gaze up at the sleeping fairy, feeling a throb of empathy in her heart. She was so small and little and fragile-looking, it was almost amazing that she could just survive. She must have been so horribly alone, must have felt as if the whole world was out to get her. It must have been so cold and dark. It must have shook her to the core, to suddenly have everything and ponies that love you, and then suddenly nothing. ...Yeah, Misfit could definitely relate.

However, a certain line in the story caught her attention.  I was... going through a tough time at the moment. Miss Rose? Going through a tough time? Well, she supposed even pretty crystal ponies had their problems. Again and again Misfit had this feeling that there was something this mare was trying to cover up, but little clues and tidbits kept seeping through the cracks. The scarf she so fretfully needed to be retrieved, just to throw it away. The way she scrambled to cover herself with her cloak. Just the way she moved and talked. She knew she was hiding something. But it wasn't her place to ask.

She's a rather plucky thing, though. Don't be surprised if you get pinched at some point in the night."

"I'll be careful!" Misfit promised, grinning.

The filly had hardly even noticed the tasty smell that had filled the room. Noodles didn't make that much of a scent when cooked, but to a ravenous and sharp-nosed pony such as herself, it was enough to make her stomach growl.

"I have a little cheese and basil, if you would like some."

She nodded her head. "O-oh, yes, please!" Bella glared at her for the increased volume, and she only smiled at the tiny pony sheepishly.

As the mare worked on the meal, Misfit talked. "Wow... so, you live with a B-breezie... That's so cool! I-I mean, stuff like that doesn't just happen to normal ponies! Then again, you're not a normal pony..." Her eyes grew wide, quickly correcting herself. "I-I mean, in only the best way, a-a good way! I don't m-mean it like you're weird or something."

The filly sighed. After a few seconds of quiet, she broke the silence. "...You know, there was a little story in m-my family, my mom's side. It was said that there was Breezie blood in our veins. The fact that everypony on that s-side of the family is light and long-legged and thin and a lot smaller than normal ponies makes it even more believable. But it's only just a s-silly rumor that's been passed down, of course. It's kinda nice to pretend, though."

"Is there any stories in your family? Anything t-that's passed down?" She asked Rose, hoping that the question wasn't too personal.

Rose grated some cheese over the pasta and sprinkled a little fresh basil over the top, grabbing forks and leading Misfit out to the table. She was musing over her answers to Misfit's questions as she set the dishes down, and didn't notice her scarf get caught where the tabletop met the legs. Stepping back to grab a small salad for Bella, she squeaked in an uncharacteristically high sound, the suddenly taut fabric causing her to trip. She wasn't so much embarrassed that she had just fallen, or anything like that. The scarf, free of her, fluttered to the floor, and she scrambled to pick it up, throwing it back around her neck, but not nearly fast enough, she knew, to keep Misfit from seeing it.

"Well," she said quickly, in an attempt to distract Misfit, "You're quite right. I'm abnormal for a crystal pony. Breezie blood? Who would have thought? I mean, they're such delicate creatures, but I could definitely see that, in the way you hold yourself and your body shape... Erm, family. Well, it's a little hard to remember anything. Sombra's reign was definitely one to block out everything. He was quite an ass, pardon my language, but my mom once told me that we had royal blood or something like that. How a crystal alicorn turned into me, well, I don't know. I'm not even sure there was such thing as a crystal alicorn. My mother's dead, though, I really couldn't ask her. She was a useless mom, anyways."

She hadn't realized that she'd taken hardly a breath throughout her entire spiel, but her blood was pounding and she could feel the heat in her head that came with anxiety. Questions were inevitable. She didn't know how to stop it.

Misfit followed the kind mare to the table, ready to pull out a chair for Rose to sit on. The least she could do was be polite. However, she wasn't done with setting the table, it seemed, and went back for a small plate.

She had seen it coming. She saw the scarf's fabric catch on the table, straining tight as Rose attempted to walk away. And before Misfit could attempt to help her in some way, she tripped. She made a rather odd, high noise, like steam coming out of a teakettle. "Miss Rose!" She shouted, scrambling to help the mare up. "Rose, are you okay? Are you hurt?" It didn't seem like it would be a damaging fall, but Rose was a crystal pony. She didn't know how their body worked. She could be hard as a rock and just as easily be fragile as glass, for all the filly knew.

But then something else caught her attention. The scarf fluttered to the floor, and for the first time, Rose's neck and chest were exposed. And there was a reason. A scar. Oh, god, how would a pony like her get a scar like that? Her eyes lingered on it for a moment, just a moment, just a tiny minuscule sliver of time, before she gazed back into the mare's eyes, acting as if she had seen nothing. A scar. That explained a lot. But it didn't look that bad. The only reason Rose would go to such great lengths to hide it would be due to extremely personal choices.

The mare frantically covered herself back up, talking so quickly and suddenly Misfit could barely understand her. The filly looked in only two place: At the table, and at the eyes of Rose. She didn't dare let her gaze even dwindle on any place below the chin. But she knew that she had seen it. It was no use pretending.

Silence spread between the two. Misfit took a seat quietly at the table. After staring at her hooves for a few seconds, she finally was able to come up with something to say. "...M-miss Rose?" She had to be careful. It was blatantly clear that this was a touchy subject. "I... I didn't see anything. I-I mean, i-if you don't, didn't, want me to. We c-can just go on with d-dinner."

She talked gingerly, as if she was afraid any word could make the mare snap. She understood the feeling. More than Rose could probably even imagine. She wasn't good with stuff like this. She always said the wrong thing, or in the wrong way. "I won't s-say anything unless you want me t-to. But, w-well, there's no n-need to feel anxious or anything. M-miss Rose, everypony has scars."

Everypony. Including her.