The Outsider

This is nice. It ain't often that Frost Tear is able to leave her house in the Whispering Woods, the world is a dangerous place after all and only His presence can keep her safe. With the Evergrowing by her side, nothing can bring her harm! Not even the dubiously cheap (yet large) hayburger she's currently munching on, it is definitely a very healthy meal for this Tuesday afternoon. As the cold autumn breeze rolls through the park, she wonders if her supernatural companion is capable of feeling it. Can it even taste the popsicle it is gnawing at? Although the Evergrowing may wear the skin of a unicorn, it is very.. Obvious that it is the skin; She can see the gaps left by old scrapes showing the woodened interior of the corpse. It really is just a big wooden doll the more she looks at it. Frost blinks and quickly looks away when she feels his lively blue eyes fall upon her, probably having noticed that  was staring. He's taught her long ago to see through the illusion spells that surround him, spells that obfuscate his very existence to the average pony's eyes, yet even now she finds new strange details of her guardian's true form. Like, how his legs aren't exactly moving and bending how they're supposed to. Kinda weird. She did not expect, however, that something weirder was about to take place. Quite, just as she was about to take the last bite from her hayburger, a stallion stepped out from behind a tree just a few meters away. And! It was another Evergrowing! Except instead of being a decrepit depiction of a corpse worn by a wooden mannequin, this one was actually a living and breathing stallion with dull blue eyes and white draping clothes.  With her mouth still agape, she watched as the Evergrowing, or, well, rowing walked towards their bench. He stopped, squinted his eyes at the undead version of himself, then continued on his merry way down the path to vanish behind another tree. Frost Tear, having witnessed this unprecedent level bullshittery, looked up at her companion and said,

 Zerathur can hear them downstairs. The clattering of kitchen utensils being washed by the automata; The chatter of daughter and mother as Spore and Astria idle by the fireplace; Erian hammering away at some new wacky invention down in the basement. An unchanging reality, a long awaited and well deserved dream come true. Everything he wished for, the return of all he once loved and the life that was robbed from his very grasp.  He reaches upwards with his mind, his consciousness slips through the veil and takes ahold of reality's string. He can feel its edges like a crack in a perfectly smooth wall, thin as a needle and as vast as the night sky. His nose bleeds as he pushes through, his right arm reaching up towards the ceiling. Zerathur would see to leave himself behind, for the husk of what he deeply desired deserved to live in its paradise.