The Visitation

Inside the office, Ironshoe slipped out of his jacket as if he had just come home from a long day. He lifted it over his wings as he pulled it off his back, and casually passed it to Dash, saying, "Would you take my coat?"

Oh great, he's old school. Dash took it before she had time to think twice. "Why am I doing this?" she thought. "You know, you may be a big shot, but I'm not your secretary."

What she had just seen registered as she turned and hung it on the coat rack, and she blinked in disbelief. The room brightened with a warm, flickering light that emanated from behind her. She froze, her mind skipping a track. She knew something was up, something big, and she would have to deal with it when she turned around.

She turned around anyway.

He was huge. Everything about him glowed. His brown fur had turned golden. His outstretched wings filled the space before her. His mane and tail were streams of ethereal white fire, with flames gently flowing out from the source, on and on, without end. He was expansive, he was the horizon. His eyes—she couldn't look him in the eye.

Everything around them seemed dark by comparison, faint, like mere shadows. She felt that she could fall through the floor, like she was floating in space, like nothing was real but her, and him. Her skin crawled, to think that there was nowhere she could go that he couldn't see her. She felt see-through. Far beneath, the sickly earth was stained red. And high above – a sword.

He pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. Dash staggered, as if drunk, as the trance passed and everything faded back to normal. She steadied herself. Catching her breath, all she could say was, "Holy shit."

She blinked at him; once again he seemed like a flesh and blood pony, and not some unearthly force. But he was indeed a golden alicorn, with a fiery white mane. He allowed her to stare for a moment. Then, in a voice that was deeper but not louder, he bade, "Have a seat."

Her mouth was like cotton. It seemed to take forever. He was actually going through the records quite quickly—she should have been offended at how quickly he glanced over it. And yet it seemed so long. Dash felt like a filly in flight school waiting for the teacher to grade her tests. Her heart was pounding, her hooves were sweaty.

Why would Celestia send—THAT—and what did it mean? It would make sense for her to send some regular lackey, some inspector, to maintain her distance from the facility. The whole thing was a black operation, everyone knew that—but why send this secret alicorn? The only reason Dash could think of for this escalation, was that this being was here to get rid of them or replace them. And no one retires from the Rainbow Factory.

That wouldn't do. Panic would be useless. If she assumed that she was done for, she would probably make it true.

With a little defiance, she would be more like herself. If he was a bigger deal than Celestia and Luna, she would have heard of him. That meant the royal appearance must be showing off, like he was compensating for something. She gathered a smirk.

She glanced at him again and the smirk immediately vanished. Was that embarrassment? Not about her work, but about the factory, about everything. It was always painful to bring in a new pony. This was different, worse. She felt almost like—no, she felt exactly like she would if her dad found out what she really did for a living.

He looked at her over his glasses. She immediately looked away. She forced herself to make eye contact again.

"Good accounting," he concluded. "These reports are all well done. Paperwork is one of the few things you were ever afraid of, but this is all thorough. I know that once you believe you're doing the right thing, there's no stopping you."

"I'm flattered," she said dryly. He must have read her personal files, she thought, or Celestia told him about her. She didn't like that he knew more about her than she did about him.

This strange being claimed, "You know who I am, but it's been awhile."

She doubted that very much. "I really don't remember ever seeing you before. Then again, what did you look like?"

"You're wondering, which is the illusion? This form is for your eyes only, for now. I'm showing you so we can talk a bit more honestly, and hiding it from the rest so we can walk around without any disruption."

"You wanna talk?" she asked warily. "Let's start with, who are you exactly, and what do you want?"

He finally introduced himself, "My name is Yeshua, and I was sent here by my father, not Celestia."

Why haven't I ever heard of you? And what kind of a name is that? Most ponies have a descriptive name, words that mean something about who they are or what they do. She couldn't even tell what language this was from.

"I'll tell you everything right now if you'll give me an honest answer to one question." He paused deliberately to give weight to what he was about to say. "Are you okay?"

"Am I…" she was taken aback. A part of her wanted to scream the answer. Are you kidding? Look around you, no one here is "okay". She choked it down successfully. She corrected her brief distraught expression into a cynical squint. This sudden "let's be honest" stuff seems like a trap.

Manager Dash straightened up. "I'm doing great. I'm doing something important here, and I don't want you to get in the way. Obviously you've read my psych file, so you know I had problems earlier, but you also know I'm stable now."

He was obviously disappointed, which was irritating. "Then we'll have that conversation later. We'll work our way up to it."

Did he just assume that I'm lying? "Listen, you don't get to decide what I think. Whoever sent you, I just want you to be honest when you're writing your report and tell them that I'm doing a good job here." That felt good to say, like she might actually get back in control of the encounter.

He nodded. "If you're sure about that, then let's go. Show me."

"Alright then. Follow me." He did follow her to the door. He took his jacket off the rack, and as he put it on, he seemed to shrink. The golden luster of his fur faded to a more normal hue, and with a brush of his hoof, his mane settled once again as normal hair. Despite the sunlight from the window, the room was instantly darker and colder without his glow.

She would play it cool, like she usually did. He was supposed to be here to investigate and ensure that things were being run properly, so she would strut her stuff and prove how well she had done. But she would be watching him, and figure out what was really going on.