Too much happens. You've crashed into the tree, taken out your terrible frustrations on the thing, and then from the sky an impish matron falls. If you hadn't overreacted enough, you do now. You whinny your useless protest as she falls down near you, landing in a collapse on the ground, making you wonder how she didn't break every bone on her way down from wherever it is you fell. You do not know the difference of whether she was in the trees of the skies. At this point, it doesn't matter much. She's here now. Skittering a few steps to the side, you eye her with massive disdain, your eyes still rolling for a moment, before you take a few deep breaths and settle yourself once again. Luckily the branches helped break my fall,” she adds later and you can't help but chuckle a little bit. For the most fleeting of moments, you wonder if you may actually come to like her in the future. Unlikely.

In all the excitement and hindered by the non-functional mass of neurons in your brain, you've all but missed introductions. Fine by you. You've never put much stock in names. Across from you, the miniscule roan puffs out his chest and tries to demonstrate his war dance. Were you not still rattled by the unexpected events, you'd have a few choice words for him, not the least of which would be that you're not frightened by his display. Are all the Unicorns here as pathetically dependent on mind-altering substances as this one? His words would strike you as funny, except it drags you exactly back to the days when you had lived in your fathers herd. More mocking, more jesting. You left for a reason, didn't you? You lash your tail about behind you in seething anger. You're lucky you're well equipped to handle the natural roller coaster of emotions that comes with uncontrollable rage and lack of inhibition. Otherwise you might be troubled by the strange roller coast you are on at this moment.

While you mull on your frustrations, the blue buffoon inserts her indignant feelings into a conversation that did not ask for them. That's just like the general public to go around spouting their mouth of when nobody asked for their input. At least you're not here on a lofty quest to guide the morals of others. A snort of disdain crosses your nares and shift your weight, pondering your options in this group that doesn't seem to want you here. “Horses were meant for ground,” you add in behind her, just to see how it incites her further. If you thought you were going to be friends, the thought as passed. If you're not wanted here, at least you can cause hell. There's no reason everyone else should be having a good day if you're not.

Around you, you notice the plants are beginning to crackle with electricity and you can't help but reach back to your bag protectively. You've never tried electrifying your drugs before. You don't think you'll start now. Around you, the others banter freely and you note with interest (though you can't say why) that the roan seems more enraged about the blue's words than you do. A gentle furrowing of your brow betrays your concern momentarily, before it fades away again. And then the gray, too, chides the blue. You're no knight in shining armor, but a mild feeling of regret wells up inside of you. Perhaps you should have done less to poke at her sore spots. Two on two is much more fun. And so it is that you add, “I say it's witless to believe the gods care enough about each of us individually to lay down paths for us before we are born.” Your words are slow; you find it difficult to form them through the hazy fog that clouds your brain. A sidelong glance is given to the blue then, curious for her reaction.

we all look for ways to make the pain go away