Cold

by McDronePone

Chapter 5: Confrontations

Chapter 5: Confrontations

The snow poured out of the clouded skies that still hung over Manehatten. The temperature would inevitably lower again, bringing even more cold to the already chilled city. It was going to continue as such for a few more weeks, much to the disappointment of the populace. It would be an act of luck if the temperature got a degree warmer.

Frill Spike kept the cold off his mind as he stared into the window of the studio. It was still untouched and ripe for the taking. Right there behind a centimeter of glass. His ultimate goal stared back at him, just a few inches out of reach. It was so close that he could almost feel the room temperature past the frost that held itself to the window. He was almost there.

He stood up from his crouched position and stepped back. The brief chill that blew through the winds was enough to bring him back to reality, a reminder that he still had a ways to go. That trophy of a home was just about to be his. He just needed to keep up the work to afford it.

That was at least one reason he had to visit this place. Today would be his second run on this new route, another obstacle for him to surmount. Although he felt embarrassed for doing so, he thought visiting the apartment would raise his spirits more. Reminding himself of what he was working toward should be more than enough for him to continue with this work. He felt that the quicker he can get the studio, the better it will be for him.

For now, he had work to do, and he was wasting some good time by taking this brief detour.

Another gust of wind blew through city, shivering the spines of any and all. The persistent current of filled the air with harsh gusts that would be more than able to send most anything aloft off course. Most individuals would think it insane to try and fly in the weather’s current state. Most would think it problematic.

Frill Spike felt it was perfect. Less air traffic meant more room for him to maneuver. The only aspect he could think problematic at a time like this was time, and while he still had good amount, he still felt like he wasted too much.

Without further delay, the changeling readied his wings and took back into the wind-swept skies.

The Noble district looked the same as it had been since Frill Spike first visited. He silently deadpanned about how that did not seem to be a surprise. With how these noble ponies stuck to their old ways, he would be surprised if they knew the Moon Princess was back. They held themselves with such high perceptions about themselves that anything below them would not make so much as a whimper in their minds. Their dominant hoof falls echoed on the surface of the side walk. Their demeanor carried a prodigious amount of self-affection. They prided themselves with such high class privileges like communal cleanliness, elegant cuisine, and expensive possessions. In the social class food chain, they were at the very top.

Frill Spike hated it. Just looking at these rich bigwigs flaunt about their status filled him with this sudden disgust. How they could be able go about their lives without a thought or care about those below them escaped his reasoning. It was also a mystery as how they could live in a country that exhibited such a welcoming atmosphere. Whatever their reasons for acting the way they did, Frill did not care for. There could not be any reason good enough to convince him of their views. Besides, it was doubtful that they would even try to explain themselves to him.

Their egotism will only fall on deaf ears, and their hate toward him would not even register in his mind as something that existed. He pushed them out of his mind, focusing only on his flight and stops. If anything, their insulting emotions would only push him to get out their manes as quickly as possible. That would be better for both parties.

The temperature had begun to drop further as Frill made it to another one of the bronze mail units. He took mail out of his bag was about to place them in the boxes when he bumped into something. His stance almost faltered, but he quickly corrected himself as he looked at the stallion he had bumped into. The earthpony was inspecting his self after the unexpected contact, straightening out his intricately designed jacket and scarf.

The stallion let out an annoyed sigh. “Well, I suppose I should have expected to be so ‘lucky’ to bump into our new guest sooner or later.”

The comment oozed sarcasm, but Frill ignored it. He was more concerned with retrieving the mail he dropped. His magic quickly wrapped around each envelope and held them in a straightened out pile. He was lucky to pick them up quick enough before the any winds blew them away. As he was placing the mail into its appropriate boxes, the stallion looking on with a seeping air of annoyance. To this, Frill ignored and continued with his business. It was until the stallion gave an apparent groan that he decided to confront him about it.

“Look, I’m sorry if you’re waiting for me finish here, but believe me: I’m working as fast as I can.”

“Oh, I assure you,” the stallion began, “The prospect of you wrapping up your business here would be music to the senses.”

Frill rolled his eyes, still ignoring the bitter attitude. The sudden impatient tapping of the stallion’s hoof served to only to agitate him further. Once he slipped the final envelope into the slot, he entertained the idea of making a sarcastic, mocked regal bow to the stallion, but he brushed the idea off. He was happier with the idea of getting away from the annoyingly smug noble than making fun of him.

“Good,” the stallion instigated longer, “now maybe my day can go on with some peace away you.”

Every fiber of Frill Spike’s being told him how stupid of an idea it was to linger with the conversation further, but his patience had already lowered because of the stallion’s callous manner and it had now just about ran out.

He turned towards the noble as he was getting his mail. “Why are you being mean to me?” He knew how pointless the question was, but he wanted to challenge him.

“What,” the stallion responded in a flat tone.

“I asked why you’re being such a jerk when I haven’t done anything.”

“Is there some rule stating that I have to explain my actions to you?” The flat tone had not left the stallion’s voice.

“No, but ponies don’t usually go around being complete jerks to other just out of nowhere,” Frill countered.

This elicited a laugh from the stallion. “So what is it that I should be doing? Am I supposed to just give all unwavering respect to any random pony I see?”

“I’m not saying that you have to be nice to them, but you really didn’t have any reason to be so rude to me a while ago.” Frill knew this conversation was not going nowhere but he could care less. At that point, he wanted this argument to pan out. He wanted to find some chink in the armor of asperity that this pony held so he could point out just how narrow minded he was.

“I don’t require a reason to act however I want to you,” the stallion returned sharply. “Now if you’ll excuse me, you’ve wasted enough of my time.”

The stallion was beginning to trot away, but Frill was not finished. His mind was screaming for him to drop the situation, but his feelings got a hold of him. “It’s because I’m changeling, isn’t it?”

The stallion stopped in his tracks. His scarf blew in the now present winds, making the area much colder. It was beginning to make Frill uncomfortable but he stood firm against it.

The stallion turned, still wearing the same flat expression and tone on his face, despite the freezing weather. “So what if it is?”

Frill glared at him, a bubble of rage beginning to build in his gut. He was about to say something else, something spiteful towards the arrogant, stuck-up, bigot of a ‘noble’ he saw in front of him. He wanted proclaim how blindly stuck up he was to the entire world, to yell and slander this stallion. This was the part of the conversation he was hoping to reach so that he could finally counter this pony’s scorn for him with his own. It was the part where he wanted to make his dramatic finish and fly off, leaving him there with skewed outlook of his original perfect society.

But try as he might he could not. His voice refused to utter a word, his mind betrayed itself at finding some colorful vocabulary to project. Seconds passed and he could not find any way to continue the confrontation.

They both stood there staring at each other, the wind continuing to pick up. Almost half a minute has gone by and still nothing.

“Are you done,” the stallion questioned.

The changeling remained silent.

“Good.” With that, he walked off to continue his own business.

Frill Spike stood where he was, looking down to the blank snow that built up around his hole-ridden hooves. He wanted to stomp on the ground, but he had done that too many times already, and the results proved to be unsatisfactory. Whatever meaningless point he was trying to make, he missed his chance at making it. All he could do now was continue with his job as he should have been doing instead of stopping to get into an useless strife.

So much for not caring.

“Marsh, I’m going out to buy some things. I’ll be back as soon as possible. Okay?”

“Okay dad.”

Marsh Olive confirmed that he heard his father through the bedroom door. The colt listened as his father’s hoof steps faded off into the living room, followed by the sound of the front door opening and then closing again.

Another moment of solitude had come to him.

Marsh sat on the floor, surrounded by a small but scattered assortment of toys. It included a myriad of wooden blocks carved into shapes of all kinds of things. Some were carved into simple geometric shapes used for building whatever the imagination could come up with. Others were more intricately molded to take the shape of ponies of different races. The collection was nothing to be astonished over, but it was his, and that was more than enough for him.

Besides all of them being wooden, the one motif that ran throughout the assortment was figures of pegasi. Some stood on their own while two of them were each tied to a short stick by string. This was so that foals could wave the small figures to and fro as if the figure were actually flying.

Marsh had no aspirations of flying, nor did he long to be a pegasus. He just simply enjoyed them. The prospect of having them fly about through the small obstacles that he made from the building blocks was just an activity he found enjoyment from. There were no limits to where he could make them go because it made sense that they could just move thought the air at will. This idea is what made him like the figures in particular.

He had set up another little obstacle course consisting several parallel pillars and mock buildings for one of the stringed figurines to fly through. Both hooves grasped around the stick and he swung the little figure back forth for practice. A smile crossed his face as he got into position.

The pegasus shot off, racing for the first set of pillars. He sped past them, then the next, and the next after that. The skills with which he went through each pair pillars were earned through good practice. Once he had cleared the pillars, it was time to move onto the small erected buildings. He dove and weaved pass the structures as if he was flying through simple air. It was as if physical matter bowed to him as he touched not even the slightest corner of a structure. He went by in such a speed that he went through the city twice and now he was on his way to make a third round.

Then the string snapped.

Marsh watched with surprised eyes as the figurine slipped from its place and flew off. It landed just under the bedroom window. Marsh quickly rose to his hooves and made his way to where the figure lay. His ears pined back as he picked up the small figurine, part of the string still attached to it. He looked back to the stick that still held the other half of the string. Placing the figure on the window sill, he went to the stick and grasped it in his mouth. He trotted back to the figure that still lay, placing the stick on the sill as well. He brought both pieces of string close to each other and attempted to tie them together. Unfortunately, the string was too small for his hooves to handle. No matter how many times he tried, he could not get the two ends into a loop to tie them. After more attempts at it he eventually gave up on the procedure. A sigh escaped his lips as he looked out the foggy window.

There was something heading for his complex. It looked to be black and flying through the wind-swept air. This object soon began to grow in size as it drew near before descending onto the ground. Marsh rubbed his hoof against the glass to clear up the fog from the window and peered through the clear area he had made.

Approaching his building was a changeling wearing a postal uniform and carrying two bags.

Marsh pushed his face against the window just to be sure he was not being tricked by his mind. Despite the snowfall outside, he could clearly see the changeling heading in his direction. There was no doubt in Marsh’s mind that this was the same changeling from before. That must mean he was heading for the lobby to drop off mail.

And he was locked in his room.

Marsh left the window and looked about the room for his winter wear. After putting on his clothes, he went back to the window and opened it. The wind that came in blew the pegasus figure off the sill, but Marsh was too focused on his plan to notice. He looked to the branch that was just a hop away from the sill. The fall below was still a high as ever and it was still apparent in his mind. But there was a desire in him that proved to overshadow any fear that he a may have conceived. The small colt positioned himself just right so that he could help propel himself off the sill and onto the branch in one leap. His breath held and his nerves steeled.

And then he took the leap.

Many things occurred in that brief moment in air. All thoughts that ran through his mind stopped and all conscious awareness left him. The winter air that surrounded him seemed only to be a distant whisper that barely made a significant presence. Any sound that could be heard fell dead silent upon his ears. Even his pounding heart and stifled breath did not register in his mind as the only factor that remained in his thoughts was the motion of grabbing onto that branch.

Every aspect of life made itself mute in that one instant.

Then he finally made contact with the branch, his fore legs automatically wrapping around it. It was then that it all came back to him. His breath suddenly found itself as it rasped in a panic. The sound of the wind came back and that cold that accompanied it grasped him in a chilly embrace. His eyes were wide as he looked about frantically. He looked back to his window but something did not feel right. It looked as if it was further away from the branch than anticipated. Not only that, the distance to the ground seemed longer too. His stomach churned, his head spun, and even breathing became an effort in his new position. Everything looked and felt wrong from up there.

He wanted to climb down, or jump back, or just do anything to leave the branch behind and find some purchase where he would feel safe. But the more he tried to find a way down or back, the more the world seemed to blur. He had completely forgotten why he made this jump in this first place as the horror of the situation encompassed him further.

With no other conceivable option, he opted to close his eyes shut and hang on for dear life.

Frill Spike dropped off the last of the mail with the front desk clerk with weary motion. The recent conversation he had with the Noble district resident proved to sour his mood and left him with a bitter approach to his surroundings. If events like that continued, he would have to end his shift earlier than usual just to have the energy to get up in the morning. It was starting to increasingly annoy him at how verbal abuse and insults were starting to make him physically exhausted. Maybe it was because he could actually sense the bitterness that carried itself with those cruel words that made him so drained. Negative emotions tended to be the changeling equivalent of spoiled food. But that was only if a changeling fed on it, and Frill Spike did not. Yet the very idea of the negativity that the Nobles directed towards him made him want to bury his head under a pile of sheets and pretend the world did not exist. He wanted to throw another insult as his own stupidity, but he figured that if it had not worked the several times he had done so, it would not be much of improvement to try it again.

He almost entertained the idea of just changing into pony form and delivering the mail as such. It certainly would make the job easier and it was not as if he had forgotten his inborn ability. A quick duck into an alley, a flash of green flame, and before he knew it, he would come out looking like any other pony. Anybody--whether they were a changeling or not--would find that the most practical thing to do.

Frill thought it the coward's way out. They could came after him with pitch forks and torches and still he would not conceal who he was to those idiots, even if it made the job easier. He was too proud to hide from their disgust. Whatever they may throw at him, he told himself that he would not stoop that low to just run away from the threat. If anything, not changing would be a silent protest that showed how much he could care less about their words.

Of course, he would have to actually start not caring about them.

He gave a heavy sigh and exited to the cold rush of winter. It was time for him to head back to the office, and maybe tell Parcel that he was not feeling well enough to do anymore deliveries today.

He was about to take off when he gave a sudden flinch. The changeling kept from groaning as he recognized the emotion of fear being emitted. But something about it was different. The feeling was intense, as if somepony threw a complete cluster of terror at his direction. It was not directed towards him, however, but it still managed to gripe at his sense just by its sheer power. He looked about for the source in order to find out just what in the world was causing this sudden emotion of distress.

It did not take him long as it was actually just above him. His mouth became agape at what he saw. He could make out the shape of foal hugging to a branch with what looked to be all his might.

Whatever feelings of fatigue Frill Spike had were instantly swept away, replace by heightened urgency. The changeling dropped both if his bags and immediately took flight towards the branch. In less than a few seconds he found himself at level with the cowering olive-colored foal. The sense of fear kept biting at him but he pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. His first option was to grab the foal right there and bring him back down to safety, but such a quick action might have frightened him further. He decided to handle this gently.

He approached carefully and spoke. “Hey,” he spoke softly as if to assure the colt that he would be alright.

Marsh Olive was so wrapped up in his terror that he could scarcely register the sound of a voice in front of him. Building up enough courage to do so, he looked up to the source.

Hovering in front of him was the changeling he saw before. Noticing that he gained Marsh’s attention, the changeling continued to speak. “Are you alright?”

Frill Spike thought himself a moron for the obvious question. Of course this foal wasn’t alright. The frail colt was completely gripped with fear. Despite his own objection to the inquiry, the colt gave quick shake of the head, indicating that he was not doing so well.

Marsh's spirit was already a small spark that barely illuminated the frightening darkness, but he managed to squeak out his response. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Frill acknowledged the colt’s feelings. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you down from here.” He then took notice of the open window behind him. “Is that the window behind you to your room?”

Marsh had returned to keeping his eyes shut and his head hugged against the branch, but he managed to nod in confirmation.

Frill felt sympathy for the colt. The poor thing was too scared to even look at him, let alone lift his head from the branch. He devised what to say next carefully. “Okay,” he began, “I know you’re really scared right now, but you need to trust me and do what I say.” He felt a little afraid that the instruction sounded too demanding. “Okay?”

At that moment, Marsh could care less what the changeling was saying as long as he was promising to get him down from that branch. He nodded.

Frill began. “I’m going to need you to let go of the branch and grab a hold of me so I can get you back to your room.”

Marsh tensed up. The idea of letting go that branch seemed all too terrifying for him to even comply with an order that would ensure his safety.

Frill felt the sudden spike in fear and he knew why. He slowly placed his hoof on the colts back in reassuring manner.

Marsh gave another flinch at the sudden feeling of a hardened, holey hoof on his back. He was beginning to shiver uncontrollably, but the hoof did not leave his back. After awhile, it began to feel actually comforting. It was a simple reassurance that there was someone else there with him during this dark moment. He opened his eyes again and met the gaze of the changeling’s pupil-less blue eyes gazing back at him.

Frill hoped that he was able to convey comfort with his featureless eyes. “It’s going to be fine,” he said to drive the point home. It seemed to work as the colt slowed his shivering and gave another, more affirmative nod. “Okay,” he began as he neared closer to the colt, positioning his body parallel to his. “Now just grab hold of me. Don’t worry, I’ll be holding onto you.”

Marsh felt the changelings hoof hold firmly against his side. Feeling a bit more secure now, he moved his leg from the branch and wrapped it around the changeling’s neck.

“Alright,” Frill continued, “Now I’m going to hover up a little bit so you can get your other hoof off the branch and grab onto my free one. Okay?”

Marsh nodded, hoping for this to end already. He felt himself be lifted a bit and held on tighter to the changeling.

“Okay,” Frill said, “Now grab my hoof and I’ll pull you towards me so you can hang on.”

Marsh took a deep breath and quickly grabbed hold of the changelings hoof. He felt a pull as he was brought closer to the changeling and he quickly wrapped his hoof around him as he felt the branch disappear.

They were both hanging onto each other now, hovering in the air. Marsh kept a firm grip and dug his muzzle into the smooth, solid neck of the changeling. Frill thanked whatever created him for giving him a carapace because the colt was certainly holding on with such a might that could choke any pony. Now that he had him secure, he hovered towards the window and into the room. Once inside, he looked to the bed and thought it best to set him down there. He hovered over to it, the colt still hanging on.

Marsh eyes were still closed shut, dreading the worse. He still heard the buzzing of the changeling’s wings and he was sure that meant that they were still in the air. “Okay,” the changeling chimed in. “We’re in your room now. I’m gonna set you down on your bed.” He opened his eyes slowly but soon made out the familiar surroundings of his room. Now feeling safe, Marsh loosened his grip on the changeling as he was set on the bed.

Frill let go of the frightened colt and sat down on the carpet floor.

The colt was safe now.

And now they stood there, staring at each other in the tanned room.

Marsh felt his legs suddenly shake and give out under him as the adrenaline from the fright subsided. He slumped down, eyes dropping and head wavering.

Frill grew worried. “What’s wrong, lil’ guy?”

Marsh looked up to the changeling who expressed the concern for him. This was the colt’s golden opportunity. In front of him was the very changeling that sparked his curiosity for his kind. Not only that, he just practically saved him from falling to his death. There were so many questions to ask and so many answers he wanted to hear. Whatever it was he could think of, he wanted to ask it.

Instead, all he found himself doing was burying his face into his bed and suddenly bursting into a fit of sobs.

Frill was caught off guard by this sudden mood change. “Hey, don’t cry,” he tried to insist, albeit weakly. “You’re safe. Everything’s alright.”

But Marsh kept weeping. The whole impact of the situation was finally bearing down on him and it was leaving him in shock.

Frill felt awkward at that moment. He tried to read the colt’s emotions in some hope of finding a basis to mend this problem, but his feelings were all over the place. Fear, disbelief, and confusion all mashed up into an amorphous blob of muddled emotion that he could comprehend. It was actually beginning to make him a little sad too. But he shook it off, trying to find some way to make the colt feel better. It took some time, but he found an idea that might work.

“You were brave back there, you know?”

Marsh lifted his head from his covers, sniffling and having tears running down his cheeks. However, he was now intent to hear what the changeling had to say.

“I mean, the way you let go of that branch, even though it was really scary for to do,” Frill continued, “That’s really brave thing of you to do.”

Marsh’s sniffling eventually stopped and he began sit up.

Frill smiled, seeing that his pep talk seemed to be working. “You really did handle yourself pretty well, um…” He stopped, realizing that he had no idea what the colt’s name was. “Sorry, what was your name?” He then quickly added, realizing that he was still just a random stranger to the colt. “I mean, you don’t have to say your name if you don’t feel comfortable about it.”

The colt sniffed once more before answering. “Marsh Olive.”

“Marsh Olive,” the changeling repeated the name. “I’m Frill Spike.”

Marsh Olive nodded to Frill Spike who returned the nod.

"Are you going to be alright from here on," he asked. Marsh gave him a nod to which Frill was relieved to see. "I don't know what you were doing up in that branch, but just try not to climb any more trees, okay." He finished the statement with a nervous chuckle. . “Well,” Frill continued, “it was good to meet you, Marsh Olive."

He began to climb out the window when Marsh called out. “Wait!”

Frill stopped, looking to the colt, wondering what he had to say. Marsh Olive looked conflicted and he could certainly sense it. His curiosity seemed to be at conflict with his sudden fatigue. It took a bit for Marsh to come up with something.

“Thank you,” was all he managed to squeak out.

Frill nodded. “No problem. And stay safe.” With that, he took flight and descended back to the ground floor.

Marsh wearily went over to the window to close it. He then took off his winter gear and lethargically went back to his bed. The fear from hanging onto the branch and the sobbing that occurred after served to leave the young colt drained of energy. All he could think of now was taking a rest. Marsh rested his head against his pillow and began to let his heavy eyes close, all the while remembering the name of that curious changeling.

Frill Spike.

Frill Spike found his bags and strapped the both of them back on. He still felt exhausted, but it was different this time. It was the kind of weariness he felt when he had done a hard day’s work. It was something he enjoyed having. He would have to reconsider his previous thought of ending the day early.

There was something that gnawed at the back if his mind though. That frightened colt seemed all too familiar. He could not quite place his hoof on it but he swore he had seen him somewhere before. It did not matter now though, as he had to get back to the office. Besides, he had seen enough faces on his job for him to mix them up in his head.

Still, he’ll have to remember that face when he finally remembers who that colt is. Until then, all he had was his name.

Marsh Olive.