//------------------------------// // Love is Fleeting // Story: We are our Habits // by Agarwaen //------------------------------// In the dark of the night, nopony could have seen a blue streak collide with the top of a large thunderhead forming over the Everfree Forest, but everypony within miles heard it. A massive bolt of lightning surged forth from the celestial anvil, arcing and splitting into hundreds of smaller tendrils of electricity. Its thunderclap would shake the windows of all Ponyville and wake most of her citizens from their peaceful slumber. Two such ponies barely even noticed; sleep was the last thing on their minds as the events of the last day were replayed in vivid detail. Atop her ominous perch, Fleetfoot dropped to her knees with a whimper. At this altitude, the wind whipped her mane around violently. She buried her face into the cool, wispy surface of the cloud in attempt to soothe the stinging in her exhausted eyes. The tears that dripped from her muzzle would be the first drops of a torrential autumn downpour. A bright flash and powerful crack of thunder overwhelmed her senses and sent her reeling backwards. When her senses returned, the cyan mare found herself in the familiar setting of her foalhood home. It all felt like a dream as her body moved of its own accord. Her hooves took her to the simple, cloud-door. With a hoof, she opened the structure, revealing a young Pegasus stallion with an uneasy smile. “Hey, Echo,” he said as he nervously brushed a forehoof through his dark blue mane. “Hello, Nighthawk,” she responded, wondering why her classmate had dropped by unannounced. “I overheard you talking to Flitter and Cloudchaser at lunch today. You said you didn’t have a date for the Pegasus Prom.” The cyan filly’s pulse began racing at the mention of the upcoming dance, a bead of sweat tickled her forehead as it began to make its way down through her coat. Wingbury Academy was a wingball school. As such, they had tons of pep-rallies. More than once, Fleetfoot had found herself staring at the blue stallion as his coach hopelessly tried to psyche up the students about some upcoming match. Once, she had been broken out of a daydream by Flitter only to see the same stallion she was dreaming about looking back at her, a soft smile on his face. Ever since that moment, the twins constantly pushed her to do ridiculous things like ‘talk to him’ or ‘sit next to him at lunch.’ They probably put him up to this as a prank. The suspicious cyan mare quickly glanced around, looking for the conspiring sisters, without any luck. “You don’t have a date, do you?” the stallion continued, made a bit more nervous by the strange look the filly was giving him. Oh my gosh, he’s not here to do what I think he is, is he? “Yeah! I mean NO! I don’t,” she responds, mentally facehoofing. “Echo… Would you like to go to the Annual Wingbury Pegasus Prom with me?” Try as she might, Fleetfoot couldn’t even bring herself to form a word as simple as ‘yes.’ So, she nodded furiously in response. Moments passed where the two Pegasi gazed at each other, and Nighthawk smiled softly at her. That same cute smile as the pep-rally. Realising he was staring, the blue stallion quickly looked down at his hooves and spoke again, “So, I’ll pick you up Saturday at six?” “Ok,” she agreed. “Ok,” he repeated, turning and taking off into the air at what appeared to be full tilt. A bright flash filled the room as Fleetfoot closed the door, forcing her eyes to reflexively close. The cold wind blowing through her statically charged coat sent a shiver down her spine. Opening her eyes, she found herself back on top of the violent cumulonimbus that she had crashed into. That night was such a laugh. We went to a dance, and neither of us had any clue how to dance. A sigh escaped her lips as she rested her head on her forehooves. If we weren’t stepping on each other’s hooves, we were stepping on my dress, or falling flat on our faces. The thoughtful mare let out a quick laugh, picturing herself and her date in a tangle of hooves and clothes. Her parents had never forgiven her for ruining that Hoity Toity dress . A powerful gust of wind sent the Pegasus pony tumbling along the cloud top. She ended up buried headfirst into a large outcrop of the dense water vapour; the forceful impact sent her head spinning. Upon recovery, she fought her way out of her cloudy tomb. The bright light of Celestia’s sun as it reflected off of a cloud field was truly blinding, but the warmth it brought was worth it. At least, until the blinded Pegasus tripped over a stray bit of nimbus and ended up rolling completely head-over-hooves onto her back. The clouds below her gave a little as a blue Pegasus stallion landed right next to the mare with a very worried look on his face. “Echo! Please, tell me you’re ok.” Wow, I can’t believe he’s that worried about a Wingball tackle. He didn’t even really tackle me, just knocked me into the cloud base. “I’m fine Night. Just lost my balance there.” Wait, why are his eyes that red? “Thank Goddess,” he said, sighing and sitting on his haunches. Gazing down into the mare’s emerald eyes, he continued, “I have something I need to get off my chest, Echo.” Fleetfoot placed a supportive hoof against his, looking up at him with concern edging its way into her mien. “I really regret getting you into Wingball. Every time I watch you get tackled, I worry that you’ll get hurt.” The stallion takes a pained breath. “And then when you asked me to help you practice, I was reluctant, but I wanted to help you with something that I know you love. So, I gave it a try." The stallion sighed, fearing what he would say next. "But when I hit you, – even if it was just a glancing blow – I completely lost it. I nearly flew into the stands head first because I couldn’t see through the tears. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” “We don’t have to practice, Night. I didn’t know it bothered you that much,” the cyan mare replied, pulling herself to a sitting position next to her coltfriend. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, and the cyan mare pressed her hoof to his chest. Letting her eyes slide closed, Fleetfoot savoured the sensation of his lips against hers, the taste of his tongue in her mouth, and his pulse racing under her hoof. As the kiss broke, Fleetfoot ventured to open her eyes and look upon the one she loved, but she was met with the sight of Luna’s moon in a vast sea of stars. As she let out a sigh, the warmth in the mare’s heart ebbed and was replaced by the cold, darkness of the night. With the cold overtaking every inch of her body, the mare began to feel unnaturally tired. She softly fell to a laying position, futilely fighting her heavy eyelids. I can’t sleep here… not now… I’ve got to… “Rest, my little pony.” A soothing mare’s voice cooed. I must be… crazy… sounded like that came from… the moon. “Sleep, child.” And sleep, she did. *** Fleetfoot awoke feeling more rested than she ever had. A contented sight escaped her lips as she took in the sensation of her lover pressed against her back. For a time, she would simply lie there, letting the sunlight filter through her eyelids and the rhythmic breathing of her mate ruffle her mane. She gently brought her forehooves to meet his, where they wrapped around her body, and pulled them in tighter. Letting her eyes slide open, the bleak white walls of their Canterlot apartment came into clarity. On the bedside table was a photo from their first date. In the picture, a young blue stallion is wearing a black suit accentuated by white and gold; he is bashfully nuzzling a cyan filly in a deep green gown, its white stitching accents her flowing mane and draws attention up to her beaming white smile and joyfully teary emerald eyes. A smile is brought to her face from the memory of that crazy night. A restrained yawn from her love pulls her thoughts back into the present. “Good morning, Birdy” she cooed. He responded by kissing her neck and introducing her to his morning breath. “Ughh, you need a breath mint. It smells like you spent all night eating some strange type of pie.” He laid his head back down and whispered in her ear, “I did.” They both laughed a little at his joke, the cyan mare blushing slightly. With a tired groan, Nighthawk extricated his forehooves from his lover’s grasp and unceremoniously rolled onto his back. “What did we have planned today, again?” His lover gave a small laugh, always amused at his forgetfulness. “We both took the day off work to go to the Wonderbolts’ show. I can’t believe you forgot about that.” “Heh, guess I just had other things on my mind, babe.” He began to roll out of bed, placing a firm slap on the cyan mare’s flank. Before she could roll over to glare at him, Nighthawk had already made his way into the bathroom. With a final sigh, Fleetfoot got up to join him. *** “That was completely awesome. Right?” Fleetfoot asked, trying to strike up a conversation with her strangely quiet coltfriend. He didn’t respond; he just idly picked at the alfalfa salad that she had made for dinner. After many more moments of silence, the mare picked up her plate, and placed the half-eaten salad into the nearby sink with a jarring clank. Nighthawk didn’t even flinch and continued not eating his dinner. Sitting next to him, she used a hoof to wrench his face away from the plate and force him to look at her. She could see uncertainty and fear in his golden eyes; even after three years, that look still scared her more than anything. “Please, Birdy, tell me what’s wrong. You’re scaring me.” He immediately reacted, wrapping his forelegs around the quailing mare and cradling her head. “It’s nothing, hun. Just thinking,” he lied, obviously. Last year, you fought a stallion twice your size without an ounce of fear, yet here you are hiding behind a salad. “This isn’t nothing. Ever since we came back from that air show you haven’t said a word to me.” She wrapped her own forehooves around him. “Just tell me what you’re thinking.” He took an uneasy breath before pulling back and looking deeply into his marefriend’s emerald eyes. “I have been thinking a lot about it recently, and being able to talk to the Wonderbolts after the show just cemented it.” Taking another deep breath, Nighthawk steeled himself for the inevitably bad response. “Echo, I want to join the REA.” There was a long silence before either could bring themselves to speak again; in the end, it was Fleetfoot that was able to form a complete thought. “Night, Do you remember last year when I asked you to help me practice wingball?” “Yeah.” “You told me that day that it was torture for you to watch my matches. You were afraid I’d get hurt. I’d have to deal with that pain every minute of every day you were gone. I’d worry if you made it back from each mission.” The mare starts to visibly tremble and is quickly pulled back into her lover’s forelegs. “There may not be any wars going on, but every once and a while guards turn up missing while patrolling the Everfree. Some are found petrified or in a hydra’s swamp, others aren’t.” “Echo, I’ll be ok.” “But I won’t be ok, Birdy. I won’t,” she said, weakly. “I would crawl from Tartarus’ gates to get back to you safe. Nothing could stop me from coming home. Nothing.” As if sharing the thought, both ponies turn their head to the side slightly and meet in a loving kiss. Breaking the kiss, the stallion pressed his forehead against hers and spoke softly, “Echo, I have and will always love you, but this is something I have to do. Please, trust me.” “I do trust you.” *** "You'll be seeing Rain Booms! Ooo-ooo-oooh! Equestrian Girls, we're kinda magical! Boots on hooves, bikinis on top!" UHhhhh… Sapphire Shores… Why have I not thrown that damnable alarm clock out the window? Fleetfoot reached up and flailed around with a forehoof to destroy her blasted alarm clock. All she could reach was another pillow are more bed, though. Realising that she was facing the wrong direction, the mare rolled over and immediately regretted it. It felt like her stomach was trying to escape her body through her mouth and it was doing it NOW. She ran as fast as possible, in her upper Canterlot cloud-house, towards the bathroom. She barely made it to the shower before the remaining bits of last night’s eggplants thermidor was spewed uncontrollably from her mouth; any better option was obviously out of the question. After a few minutes, the acrid tasting purple and brown bile was completely expelled from her aching stomach. She sat there for what seemed like ages, with tears of pain welling in her eyes as the painful dry heaving continued. When it stopped, the crying mare didn’t even have the will to rinse wretched bile out of the shower. She slowly hauled herself back to the bed, dropping unceremoniously back onto it. Why did I have the alarm set again? Right, doctor at 9:30, and its… 9:15 Ugghhhhhh… Sliding back off the bed, the unhappy mare made her way through the well-furnished cloud-house and out into the warmth of the sun. She paused for a second, basking in its warmth, before taking flight to her appointment. Her pace was sluggish compared to what she is capable, a testament to how tired her body felt, even after a full night sleep. Upon arrival at the doctor’s office, she was promptly shown to her examination room. The room was a warmly designed; bright floral wallpaper lined the walls and the most of the furniture was made of tastefully stained wood. The one exception was the same piece of furniture that every doctor’s office had, a strange vinyl bed with a paper sheet over its length. The room would be comfortable to wait in, except the fact that they seemed to set the thermostat on Windigo. Sometime before Fleetfoot died of hypothermia, the doctor arrived. He was a periwinkle unicorn with a wavy blue and white mane; oddly, his cutie mark was an hourglass “Hello, I’m doctor Heart Beat. But you can call me ‘The Doctor’.” He raised his hoof and it was met for a firm hoofshake. “What’s brought you in today Ms. Fleetfoot?” “Well, my coltfriend mostly. Most mornings I wake up tired after a full night sleep, and I often vomit or dry heave as well. I keep telling him it’s nothing, probably just stress from our job.” “Ahh, yes. Being a Wonderbolt must be a very high stress environment.” The Doctor let out a quick chuckle at the shocked expression the cyan mare displayed. “How did you know? Are you a spy?” she questioned, through squinted eyes. After another light-hearted laugh, The Doctor pointed a hoof at a manila folder, responding, “The chart doesn’t lie, miss… Well, that and Mr. Nighthawk told us everything when he made the appointment last week.” Using his magic, The Doctor retrieved a small clear-plastic cup from a cupboard on the far wall, floating it over to his patient. “I would like to do one test before I chalk this up to nerves, miss. I need you to fill up this cup, please. You can use the restroom through that door, and I’ll send a nurse in to retrieve the sample.” The Doctor noded goodbye as he left the room. With a sigh, Fleetfoot took the cup and made her way into the bathroom. A resounding click spread through the examination room as she locked the door behind her. This is going to be awkward enough without somepony accidentally walking in on me. I mean, it’s like they make these specifically for unicorn stallions… How do they expect anypony else to use these things without… that… happening… When the cotton candy coloured nurse entered the examination room, she swore she heard some un-marelike words coming from the restroom over the rushing water of the sink. A few minutes later, a quite annoyed looking, and soapy smelling, Pegasus fluttered out of the restroom carrying the small plastic cup of bright yellow liquid clutched between her forehooves. “I’ll take that, dear,” the nurse said, wrapping her powder aura around the cup and placing it on a small tray. “It’ll take us about 10-15 minutes to analyse this. Hopefully, The Doctor will be back in a little bit with wonderful news for you and your special somepony!” The bubbly nurse chimed as she took the tray in her aura and left the room. “Wait, what?” the stunned mare responded after the door had completely closed. She didn’t mean what I think… Right? After many minutes of nervous pacing, groaning, and staring at the clock, The Doctor returned to the room with a smile on his face. “Well Ms. Fleetfoot, I just got the test results back, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that it isn’t just nerves causing your morning sickness.” “No?” the mare responded, timidly. The Doctor shook his head in confirmation and continued, “I believe congratulations are in order, miss! By the looks of things, you’re about three months pregnant!” He announced, beaming. As Fleetfoot buried her face in her hooves, the dream faded into the darkness of a deep, peaceful slumber.