> Entertainers > by Perfectly Insane > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > Pixie > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- She'd locked herself out of her dorm. It wasn’t the first time, because of course not; Why would Trixie learn from her mistakes? She'd left her key inside—all of her keys, in fact. Even though she'd attached a literal bell to her keychain, and made sure every single one was as brightly colored as she could, she still forgot her keys on her desk.  But she hadn't forgotten her phone, or her bottle of peach schnapps. So there was that.  Trixie slumped against the door and slid to the floor, unable to feel her back against the rough wall, just as oblivious to the paint flakes that pulled off the door and tangled in her hair. She splayed out her legs, resting the bottle comfortably in the spot between her things. She rest one free hand on the top, then placed her chin on that hand and used the tip of the bottle as a sort of balancer; tilting her head at an angle as she placed her phone on the floor and typed in her password.  Trixie caught a whiff of the alcohol as the scent slipped through her fingers, strong and putrid enough to make her nose wrinkle. It would have made her gag if her breath wasn’t just as vile.  Maybe it was how plastered she’d gotten, but she found herself tunnelvisioned on her phone, idly scrolling through her contacts until she found one that sparked interest in her fugue-like state.  “Cherry Rose, no. Twilight Sparkle, no; why do I even have her added? Sta—” Starlight Glimmer.  She was startingly good at picking locks, a hobby that had proven useful to Trixie more times than she'd have liked to admit. Breaking into a dorm would be childsplay for her. Most things were.  The question was, was Trixie really drunk enough to text her ex like in those awful late-night rom-coms?  Maybe she would have, if it weren’t for the name that was under that name.  “Pinkie Pie…” Trixie slurred, bringing the bottle to her mouth and taking a swig before sticking her tongue out and slamming it back on the ground. Was the sickening warmth in her chest really worth how disgusting it tasted?  Pinkie Pie was the residential assistant for her floor, which was the main reason she was even in her contacts. Even as inebriated as she was, the ironic nature that one of magical rainbooms of her highschool, who had been her savior more than a few times, was now an overseer of sorts. They didn’t talk very often. The RA’s had to do mental health checks with the residents every couple of weeks, but Trixie never went to those, of course.  Trixie’s mental health was as great and powerful as she once had been certain she was..  Pinkie did, however, have a master key that could unlock any dorm. No matter what Trixie’s thoughts on the ‘magnificently majestic main seven’, she knew that Pinkie and Fluttershy were selfless to an almost otherworldly degree. Fluttershy with animals, and Pinkie with people.  No wonder she’s regarded as the best RA on campus, she’s perfect for it.  “...Fine.” Trixie muttered to herself, tapping at the blurry shape of her phone until she heard a dial tone.  She grunted in frustration as she tapped again with the sharp poking of her fingernails until she hit the speaker button, left with the echoing of a phone call before that staisfyling click put the dull ringing to silence.  “Trixie! Hey, girlie, how you doing?” Pinkie’s chipper voice was amplified by the emptiness of the halls, Trixie could practically hear the smile on the other side of the phone.  “Trixie is…” she tried to hide her garbling under a cough, and was too drunk to tell if she did a good job or not. “Powerful, but not very great. She may have— blergh.The alcohol finally hit her stomach with a burp she could taste. “She locked herself out of her dorm. And left the keys to her, well, everything in there. Could you mayhaps—” “Use my master key to get your keys to their master?” Pinkie said it like it was some awful pun, chuckling to herself the way Trixie had always seen her do with others. “Sure! I’m in the building right now, actually! I was gonna go out this Thirsty Thursday, but I actually have an exam tomorrow that I just finished studying for. Give me five minutes!” With the opening of a door, Pinkie was in the hallway, scanning it like a security officer. “Or five seconds!, ” Pinkie’s baby blue eyes spotted Trixie's moment, waving at her with her free hand as she held the phone against her ear with the other one. "Hi, Trixie!" She was still in her blue onesie, balloon and cupcake patterns sprinkled in a spectrum of colors.  Trixie made a vague attempt at a wave back, only for her hand to fall to the cold ground.  Pinkie made her way over in hops and skips, finally landing right in front of Trixie enough pep for the both of them. “So, how’d you forget your ke—” Pinkie’s eyes, along with her smile, dropped to the half-empty bottle of schnapps in between her legs. “Oh. I see.” “Trixie has had a rough few weeks.”  “I’m sure. That’s what the mental check-ins are for. You know, the ones you never go to. Hmmm,” Pinkie unzipped her onesie to just above her chest, reaching in and pulling out two small sticks wrapped in paper. “Here.” “Did you,” Trixie pointed to Pinkie’s chest right as she was zipping her onesie back shut. “Retrieve those from your breasts?” “They're tiddy pixie sticks, yes.” She opened one of them and stuck it in her mouth, extending the other one to Trixie. “Want one? I’ve got a few tucked away for emergencies just like this!”  “Uhm,” While Trixie could tell there was only one in Pinkie’s hand, they were blurry enough to be three; the darkness in the hall didn’t help. She tried to keep her arm steady as she reached out for it, managing to grab one of the three and hoped it was the right one. “Sure.”  “Great!” Without a word, Pinkie adjusted Trixie’s grasp to the left and curled her fingers around the candy. Trixie guided it back toward her chest as Pinkie plopped down beside her and swiftly grabbed the bottle of schnapps.  “Hey, Trixie paid fifteen dollars for that bottle. She’s going to finish the whole bottle.” “Oh yeah? How are you going to do that—” Pinkie brought the bottle to her mouth, bringing the end of it to mouth as tried to chug it like water. Trixie wound up with her fist and unleashed it in the general direction of Pinkie's face, but missed and connected with the bottle instead. It flew out of Pinkies grip and bounced down the hall,leaving its contents on the floor as a mess for someone to clean up. “'when there’s no contents left,' was what I was going to say. I meant to drink that, but that works too!”  Pinkie reached over and lifted the bottle, propping it against the wall so it stopped spilling.  “What a waste.” Trixie murmured as she pressed her back against the wall again, slightly shifting from side to side as she couldn’t quite find a balance. "Why'd they even choose you to run those mental health checks, anyway?" “Oh, all the RA’s have to do them, silly!” Pinkie placed a hand on Trixie’s shoulder, more or less stabilizing her. “You know what you need more than alcohol? Pancakes!” “Pan—” Trixie tasted bile in the back of her throat, but swallowed it. “Pancakes?” “Pancakes!” Pinkie wrapped Trixie's arm around her shoulders and pulled herself to her feet, bringing Trixie with her and making sure she had someone to lean on. “There’s a Denny’s just down the block. I go there all the time when I’m drunk; it helps a lot.” “But it’s, like,” Trixie glanced at her wrist, looking for a watch that she didn’t own. “Really late. And Trixie doesn’t have her wallet.” “Do I look like I get drunk on a schedule? They're open 24 hours. In fact, I have a tab there! And don’t worry about paying. Consider it me paying you back for the half of the bottle I spilled. I’ll personally bring you back and make sure you get to your dorms safe and sound." “Well…” Trixie looked at her door, then back at Pinkie, whos hands were clasps to her chest. “Trixie supposes she’s been on worse dates?" "A date?" Pinkie tilted her head, pursing her lips into an 'o' shape. "Oh no. No offense, but our first date would probably be at a party instead of a Denny's. This is just me being a good friend." "Hmmmmm." Trixie droned to herself, briefly enjoying the sound of her own voice." Very well, but be warned: Trixie will feast like the royalty she is.  “Yes! Slay, queen!”  Trixie tried really hard not to throw up. ______________ The Denny’s really was just a block away, with Pinkie offering her shoulder the entire way. Once they got there, they were guided to a table where they sat across from each other. It was relatively empty, with only the people working there and one old guy enjoying a coffee at 3 AM.  Trixie had had a lot of drunk experiences, but nothing like this.  “So.” They had already ordered their pancakes, and now were in the awkward silence phase of eating. Usually, Trixie had no issue filling the air with her voice. The thing was, sober Trixie and drunk Trixie were two very different people. “Do you come to this Denny’s often?” “Only when I’m drunk. So like, uhhhh,” Pinkie tapped her fingers against the table like she was typing something, her eyes half-lidded in thought. “Once every two weeks? I saiiidddd I don’t schedule when I drink, but it tends to happen pretty consistently. You?”  Pinkie rested both of her elbows on the table, placing her chin on the cusp of her hands and looking at Trixie like a child waiting for their parents to tell them a story.  “Not often, Trixie found out the hard way that she cannot perform when hungover. That said, recently she’s found herself—” A flash of purple and green in her mind. That smile, that sparkle in her eyes, the way her hair curled. The thought used to bring Trixie the prettiest butterflies in her chest. Now it just summoned the sharpest needles. “In tough times. Perhaps the toughest of tribulations she has yet partaken of. And so she drinks, for the warmth of the alcohol erodes the cold loneliness... for a little while, at least.” Trixie raised her hand, her fingers curled around an imaginary glass as if to make a toast. “Trixie, you know alcohol doesn’t make your problems go away, right?” Pinkie’s animation personally fell, her voice becoming almost stern with its seriousness as her eyes wavered. “Drinking for fun or confidence is one thing, but when you drink to ignore your problems they’ll just get bigger when you see them again.”  “Trixie…is well-aware of that.” Her arm fell to the table with a clank, then was brought back to her face as rubbed her eyes. “I just need time, ok? Drinking gives me time, and that’s enough for Trixie right now.” Pinkie crossed her arms, leaned forward and stared straight into Trixie. Trixie never had any idea what was going on inside that cotton-candy head of hers. Not back at the concerts, not at parties when she seemingly knew everyone there, and especially not now. Sober or drunk, Trixie had no idea what Pinkie was thinking as she looked at her. It would have been terrifying if she wasn’t so wasted out of her gourd.  “Ok then, I getchu. Why don’t yo—oh, thank you!” Pinkie broke off as the waitress brought their drinks—coffee for Trixie and green tea for Pinkie. Pinkie had recommended against the coffee originally since alcohol was already dehydrating, but the list of adjectives that described Trixie very prominently included "stubborn". “Anyway, spill the tea, sis! Tell me what’s got you so down in the wagon?” For a very brief moment, Trixie considered reaching over the table and tipping the cup of steaming tea that Pinkie was carefully blowing on; she was drunk enough to play it off.  In the end, she decided against it. For now. “Trixie has been...” Once more, she had that opportunity to rant about her ex, to drown in the sorrow she had swallowed so feverishly. Even worse, Pinkie would listen to every word with a sympathetic intensity, like she always did for others' problems. Something about that would set her off.  So she’d talk about something else. “Burnt out on entertainment recently.” “Oh yeah?” Pinkie tilted her head, grabbing a straw from a container and tapping it against the table to peel the paper off. “I’ve had a bit of experience with that. Well, more than a bit, really.” A strange sense of graveness tainted her voice as she took a sip from her tea, briefly closing her eyes as placed the cup back on the table and ran a finger through her hair; fluffing her hair like one would a pillow. “Anywho, go on!” And just like that, it was gone.  “It’s…” Trixie fumbled over her words, whether or not because it was inebriated or because she was trying to figure out how to lie without lying was the hard part. “That spark. That childlike innocence, the fascination. It’s not—” she slammed her fist on the table, “—there anymore! It’s burned out without even embers to do anything.” “So, you’ve lost interest in being a performer?” “Not at all!” Trixie saw herself very in Pinkie’s eyes, just a moment of self-awareness in the window of someone elses soul.  It burned.  She dropped her gaze to the coffee, where her reflection was so blurred and black it was unrecognizable. Something about that was comforting.  “I try just as hard, care just as much, I love h—” Trixie bit her tongue, a lot harder than she intended to. The taste of copper poisoned the well of saliva in her mouth. “My job. But no one nowadays believes in magic anymore. They're all too skeptical for even an illusion. Everyone wants to find the trick, or figure out the secret! No wants to believe! They... they just want…” A smile.  That’s what she wanted to see in her ‘audience’. That sparkle in their eyes, the twinkle as their lips spread, that little gasp as she performed something and the sharp air filled their lungs. Sometimes, it started just when she talked and would be all flashy.  That was nice. Trixie didn’t realize how nice that really was until it stopped. Now, those smiles would be for someone else, no matter how much she wanted them to be for her.  Her smile would be for someone else.  “To figure it out, like a puzzle. There’s no emotion in it, and I hate it. It’s lonely. Is this my future? Putting my heart and soul into what I love only for it to never be reciprocated? Or for it to be given back at first, and then dwindle away, leaving me a sobbing mess? That’s torture!”  Trixie couldn’t bring herself to look up, to see what kind of expression Pinkie had on her face. A sympathetic, listening smile, an empathetic frown; or something completely unreadable. What she focused on instead was the cup of coffee in front of her that she hadn’t even touched yet.  It was hard to say why. Was she afraid she was so drunk she might burn herself on it? Something dripped down the sides of her face, she couldn’t quite feel it.  “I miss it. I miss that joy. I can’t, I won’t do that. I d-don’t…” What was that choking sound coming from her throat? Was that sobbing? She hadn’t cried since she was a kid. It was disgusting.  It made her feel ugly.  “I don’t want to be alone.” There was a numbing warmth in Trixie’s cheeks, so potent she couldn’t feel the tears rolling down them until she saw them drip onto the coffee. There was a sourness in the back of her throat behind the layer of alcohol that covered her tastebuds, and the heat in her face did little for the bizarre cold that perforated the rest of her senses.  She’d always hated the cold. A pink hand wrapped around her own, pleasant to the touch and with the gentleness of an angel. “I understand.” Trixie raised her head, and realized how much of a mess she’d become literally in Pinkie’s eyes. Her makeup in shambles, masquera running down her face like a spilled drink, it was ugly. She felt ugly. Maybe she was ugly. Maybe thats why the magic was.  “I—I need to go to the bathroom.” “Oh.” Pinkie’s hand pulled back, Trixie found herself missing that contact as fleeing as it was. “Ok. Lemme go with you. You never know what kinda weirdos might be in a denny’s bathroom at three am.” “You’—” Trixie bit her lip, trying not to let that intrusive though out of her lips. “Sure.” As soon as they stood up, Pinkie quickly grabbed Trixie by the wrist, just as softly as before. It was firm, but didn’t hurt at all.  It felt…safe. As soon as Trixie saw a sink, she yanked out of that small grasp of comfort, turning on the cold water and splashing it against her face. It was hard to tell over the sound of rushing water, but it sounded like Pinkie was standing right behind her. Unmoving and watching with a cautious gaze.  Once it was over, and the vague stickiness on her face was gone, she turned it off and she looked at herself in the mirror.  That was the worst mistake she’d made tonight.  Her silver hair, once radiant and curled to perfection, was a splayed mess. Splotches of her makeup were still there, the light had vanished from her eyes. Dark circles sat under them like she’d taken a sharpie and shaded her own skin, the blush was gone, the smile was gone. She wasn’t great.  She wasn’t powerful.  She was barely even— “Trixie?” Pinkie.  Trixie spun to her, and she was blinded.  Pinkie was as pure as she was, well, pink. Those blue eyes of her didn’t view her any differently, despite seeing her at her worst. There was a sparkle in her pupils she was so familiar with, that was so beautiful.  It reminded her of Starlight in the worst way.  “Are you ok—” Trixie kissed her.  She tasted like candy.