>you walk through the streets of the mulp district, just as you do most nights
>most of the time you're just window-shopping but sometimes you find one or two places you park yourself in for a while
>this place used to be lively, exciting, full of wonders, and it's not like anyone still trodding these streets won't let you forget about it
>it still retains some of that vigor now, some of that old charm, you can still feel it coursing through the place
>and yet it's been ebbing for as long as you can remember
>you pass by building after building, some with rambunctious shouting and others with only dim lights
>many are in such a state of disrepair, it's hard to believe anyone actually frequented them back then
>there are some lots where it looks like whatever used to be there was completely leveled
>sometimes there are small mementos in those places
>one of the bigger venues that holds the yearly events was still lively as ever, with a big "Waifu Dinner Thread 2020" neon sign flashing on-and-off above the entryway
>you peered in for a bit and saw some of the most heartwarming smiles and actual joy you've seen lately
>not quite your scene but you respect them all the same
>you turn and walk by after you've had your fill, meaning to check by there tomorrow
>it gets quiet quickly though
>alone, shivering, you only hear your footsteps on the sidewalk for a while
>but then.. is that... singing?
>intrigued, you follow the foreign noise where it leads you
>it's somber, crooning even, as her.. yes it's a she from what you can tell.. as her voice carries on through the wind to your ears
>but it stops
>you can tell you're on the right street it's on and you believe it's that one towards the end
>it's very dark out here, the building you eye out one of the few that still has lights on
>you eye a flickering sign on the side of it
>'The Thread'
>huh
>most venues have something before it
>one by one, the lights coming from the windows start to go out
>startled, you quicken your pace, curiosity and fear biting at your heels
>you hope you don't miss your chance to find out just who was there
>what they were singing about
>who they were singing to
>...
>the sign and final light illuminating the doorway go out at once as you close in
>no!
>you can't let that happen!
>you semi-sprint to the double-swing doors and.. timidly open one, still unlocked
>with a small internal sigh of relief and a much greater rush of anxiety pounding in your skull, you walk in
>it's very dark (yeah no shit)
>your eyes have somewhat adjusted the night already, but you can only make out some.. form of something standing in the room
>well.. here goes nothing...
"H-Hello?"
>you pause, trying to come up with.. oh! at least something to say!
"I heard someone in here singing just a bit ago.. and was wondering if they're still here? It's just so unusual and rare to hear something like that around here.. you might know what I mean.."
>you see the figure fidget, as if it was trying to figure out what to say
>it turns its head to the right and you can just barely make out the distinct form of a female snout
>a slim streak of hope fills you as you hang on her response
>she turns back to you and her voice is flat
>"No, they aren't here."
>you deflate, the wind leaving your sails
>you open your mouth to say something, but before you're able to, she continues
>"She hasn't been here for a very long time."
>capitalizing on you being struck by that statement, she slowly trods forward to make her way past you
>it's not that far to the door
>and after that who knows if you would ever interact with her again
>you don't even know what she looks like
>...wait a minute
>you reach out your arm just in time to stop her
>you weren't slow
>you knew what she meant by that
>despite being impeded, she makes no effort to move your arm with a hoof or dig in to power through your clothesline
>she doesn't even turn to look at you, instead dropping her head a bit and, unbeknownst to you, closing her eyes
>in spite of this, you get the itching sensation that she could bolt at any second if even slightly provoked
>don't be too harsh, but get your point across
"I have a strong suspicion you might not be telling the whole truth."
>against your arm, you can feel a neck muscle contract to create what you can only guess to be a wince on her face
>no movement otherwise though
>good job.. you guess?
>you can't afford to let an opportunity like this pass you by
>there's only so much around these parts anymore
>after what feels like an achingly long pause, but was more likely about five seconds, she lets out a soft sigh
>"I don't want to talk about it."
>this only furthers your resolve
"Why not?"
>you feel her wince again, but this time she doesn't pause as long
>"Let me go."
>this reply confuses you a bit
>you aren't holding her foreleg or mane or something
>she could just as easily reverse and go around your arm if she so pleased
>and even slim ponies are strong enough to push through your barricade
>"Let me go!" she repeats, a bit more forceful this time but still not moving
>..and did you detect a small quiver in her voice?
>uh oh
"H-Hey, slow down there. I'm not going to hurt to you."
>another contraction
"..are you okay?"
>your eyes have adjusted now to discern a bit more about here
>no wings, no horn
>pretty small frame, even for an earth pony
>gray coat with a two-tone mane and tail, one half jet black and the other half a slightly shimmering gray, your rods not allowing you to perceive color, if there was any
>slightly lighter gray cutie mark, although what it was was still uncertain
>her mane drooped over her face, her right eye mostly covered, but you could see something shimmering at the edges of the other
>the mascara made it stand out quite well
>oh please don't tell me..
>the grimace across her muzzle confirmed your fears
>..fuck
>you retract your arm and she immediately falls into a laying position, as if makeshift barricade was the only thing keeping her standing on four hooves
>she lets out a surprisingly loud sob that causes you to kneel down to her
>but after that she is mostly silent as she weeps, streaks of black running down her cheeks
>you made out similar, faded streaks earlier when observing her face, but you figured that was just the way she liked to wear it
>you gingerly reach a hand to her mane to.. pet it? run your hand through it? you guess??
>you're not exactly accustomed to comforting ponies in their time of need
>but you continue the action nonetheless, deciding to run it through her mane, which you figure is more appropriate than a simple pat on the head
>she's shaking, you can feel it
>but.. she doesn't fend you off or jerk away
>and you internally sigh with relief
>so you do it again
>and again
>and again..
>...
>a solid two minutes pass before you feel her shaking subside
>but you don't stop your stroking for another half minute or so
>if she's letting you do this, it must be helping at least somewhat
>finally though, you pull back
>her head remains drooped, her eyes still shut
>she sniffles softly
>all cried out for now you guess, but you could tell she still needed comfort
>one more try..
"Are you sure you don't want to talk?"
>her eyes open, staring at the ground
>you steel yourself in case she says yes
>but you really hope she says no
>there appears to be a lot to unpack, way more than what you thought you were getting into
>all you wanted to do was find out who was singing down here
>maybe follow her page on some social media or at least find out when her next appearance might be
>not all this
>but.. perhaps it was better this way
>for one thing, you were definitely much more invested now
>no way now you could do something like see her next event posted on whatever it was, ponder it for a moment, and then pass it up for something stupid and short-sighted
>damn you attention span
>and for most other things, you feel like she needed help in some way
>something had happened
>you don't know what, you don't know when, you don't know why
>but it's something very important to her
>and it seems as though she still might not have dealt with it fully yet
>it was going to be a long night wasn't it?
>suddenly, the earth pony wrests you from your thoughts by standing up
>you mimic her, rising from your kneeling position, and watch as she turns around and saunters towards the back of the building
>she disappears briefly before a single hanging light with a broken glass shade flips on with a pop
>fuck that's a bright 30 watt
>it illuminates a single table, dirty and severely etched up, and the wall next to it, absolutely covered in art of the same pony
>you walk over to it slowly in a kind of awe, mostly ignoring the cracks in the walls between the paintings
>some were very well done and some may have been a little lacking, but you could tell all had a lot of passion put into them
>some perhaps a different kind of passion than others
>or.. maybe not
>the swatches of pink in her mane stand out clearly against the collection of grays, and simultaneously bringing out the color of her eyes
>very pretty eyes in fact, the dark mascara only enhancing their depth and beauty
>sure, you had a bit of thing for goth/emo/scene girls, but you think anyone could objectively see the beauty in this pony
>you smile for the first time since you left the waifu venue, ages ago
>this is exactly why you come to this part of town
>seeing strangers who have never met each other before come together for a single purpose: to celebrate that something special or somepony special they love so deeply and so dearly
>you can't think of many things more important than the bonds these people and ponies share
>and displayed right here, the varying ways they express it
>it should be more like this
>it can be more like this
>the sound of hoofsteps reaching your ears cause you to drop your smile and quickly turn your head
>the mare makes her way towards you from the back room
>one look at her hot pink mane and the lightbulb goes off in your stupid, idiot head
>pangs of way too many emotions attack you like daggers
>in contrast to your current state though, it seems the pony's regained her composure from earlier
>probably why it took her so long to get back here
>she unceremoniously grabs a knocked over seat from the floor, stands it upright, and plants herself in it at the table
>she props her head up with one hoof and glares at you from bleary half-lidded eyes
>the black streaks underneath her eyes were still wet and glistening in the light
>you've never thought this about anyone before, but it really looks like she could use a smoke right now
>before you realize you're staring a bit too long, she speaks
>"You wanted to talk, right? Well, let's talk."