New Long and Short of It · 2:35am Jul 31st, 2023

>Meanwhile, across town...
>You are Astral Blade, and the anticipation is killing you.
>This will be your first time seeing Pike since last night, and your mind is alight with questions.
>That goes for most of the unit too, you’d reckon.
>Everypony is just awkwardly shuffling around, waiting for their Sergeant to step in and hoof out assignments.
>You imagine they have the same questions you do, although no pony is voicing them.
>You’re not a bunch of gossiping cocks after all; idle speculation won’t get you anywhere.
>However, there is one topic you’re more than happy to speculate on...
>”Hey, Astral, have you seen Cloak anywhere?”
>Speak of Tirek, there’s Night Sky, here to start the exact line of conversation you were hoping to.
>Lowering your voice so the other mares can't hear, you say, “No, and I’m starting to think she played hooky today.”
>Night rolls her eyes, “A Nightstalker? Playing hooky? Don’t be absurd.”
>You slyly elbow her.
“Well, if she’s not out cowering in fear of her impending court-martialing, where is she?”
>Night rolls her eyes AGAIN! This must be a new personal record for you.
>”We can’t /court-martial/ her for that! Inappropriate as it was, she didn’t break any laws.”
>You groan, but Night puts a hoof on your withers to stop you.
>"/However/, that hardly means we lack the means for official recourse. Regardless we should wait for Sergeant—"
>The sound of the doors being pushed open makes the room instantly fall silent.
>All eyes are on them as in trots Stable Sepulchre, sergeant of the day.
>With bated breath everypony waits for who should be following behind her...
>...only for nopony to be there at all, the doors falling shut behind Sepulchre.
>You and Night share a silent look, concern growing between the both of you.
>Sepulchre does nothing to address this, of course.
>"Troops!" she unnecessarily shouted over the room. "There's been a change of plans for today. Your updated assignments are posted on the door behind me. Any questions you have, report them /to me/. Understood?"
"Ma'am. Yes, ma'am!" You echo back with the room.
>"Excellent. Dismissed!"
>You take a step back in shock.
>New /postings/? Pike was supposed to run drills today!
>Did she change the schedule?
>No way, she hates it when ponies make changes at the last minute.
>But then again, who else would?
>Night, clearly eager for answers too, beelines towards Sepulchre.
>Her determined canter cuts through the crowd like butter, leaving you the perfect path to follow behind.
>As you move among the gathered mares, you can already hear some of them expressing quiet concern about this abnormal turn of events.
>You're right there with them.
>Before, you hadn't been particularly worried about Pike. Now however...
>Your mind flashes back to her panic stricken face from the night before.
>You'd never seen her like that, not even when the last Sergeant bucked up and left the two of you stranded in the middle of the Everfree Forest.
>Up until now you'd pegged it on her just being drunk off her flanks, but the sinking feeling in your gut says that may have just been wishful thinking.
>Sepulchre sees your approach. "Ah. Corporal, Specialist, just the two mares I'd wanted to speak to."
>The coat on the back of your neck stands straight up.
>You do NOT like this. Not one bit.
>Night speaks up before you’ve even thought up a reply, "Stable, what's going on here?"
>Having worked with Sepulchre for many years, you know she's not the kind of mare who looks away when delivering bad news.
>Instead, she has a very peculiar way of making intense eye contact.
>Eye contact she's now making with Night.
>"We should talk outside."

>You are Nocturnal Pike, and you’ve just done something you hated.
>Something you never thought you’d do.
>Something that ruins months upon months of perfect planning!
>You changed the guard schedule: the MORNING OF!
>You’d have KILLED Sepulchre, or even Blueblood, for doing that.
>Yet the blame for this blunder solely rests on you, and the fact you’re hiding in your office.
>”Like a coward,” Mom’s voice echoes inside your head.
>For the first time in a long time, you have no retort for the inner voice.
>She’s right: you /are/ a coward.
>You spent all morning dodging Anon’s questions only to start dodging your responsibilities the moment you set hoof in the castle.
>Is this going to be your life from now on?
>Running from place to place, never interacting with anypony lest you be forced to confront your issues?
>Of course not, you can’t live like that. Nopony can!
>The obvious and only real solution is staring you right in the face.
>It's time to come clean.
>If you, Nocturnal Pike, look back on every value you were raised on, every value you've tried to exemplify your /whole life/, you see there is only one conclusion.
>You are no mare.
>And just like that, a great weight falls upon you.
>A pathetic mewl escapes your lips as the implications of your admission hit you at mach speed.
>Luna defend you.
>If this is how an /internal/ admission feels, how will it feel to admit this to Anon? To Cut? To Astral? To /your mom/!?
>The thought of every new confrontation physically beats you down, bending your posture until your head rests in your hooves.
>But there's no other way to square it.
>Even now, at this very moment, your conclusion is being actively validated.
>Mares are meant to be stoic; unshakable.
>Yet here you are, fraught with anxiety and on the verge of tears.
>"You're pathetic," your mom's voice rings in your ears.
>What's worse is even your happy thoughts are turning against you.
>Trying to stave off despair, you desperately grab at any happier time you can get.
>But all your mind’s eye finds are images of Anon doting on you.
>Sitting in the tub as he treats you to a spa day.
>Blushing as hell tells you how cute you look in one of Silken's outfits...
>You can feel yourself desperately wanting to take comfort in these things.
>Remembering how they made you feel so warm, so loved.
>That just makes it all so much worse.
>Stars, what is WRONG with you?
>Dimly you realize you've long since started spiraling, and your training swiftly kicks in.
>Deep breaths, focus on your breathing and on /anything/ else.
>Your eyes dart around the office, looking for something to center yourself on.
>Some idea, some memory, /anything/.
>There was plenty to focus on; your office is filled with trinkets and awards from your time in the guard.
>Medals you'd won, framed commendations your unit had gotten, your diploma...
>Countless things to remind you of your storied and successful career.
>But even those memories aren't safe.
>After only a brief respite, your mother's voice booms in your head once more, "A career only possible thanks to what /I/ taught you!"
>"You led by embodying those principles! Your mares excelled because you passed those values onto them!"
>You want to shout, scream at her to shut up, but years of discipline win out and you keep the outburst down.
>Which ended up working in your favor, as a brief moment of clarity reminds you of something important.
>You're not /actually/ arguing with your mom right now.
>This is all in your head: some weird personification of your anxieties, not an actual pony.
>So what good would it do you to tell "her" to shut up? You're the one asking the questions here.
>And the question is: how can a brudder like you, practically a colt with teats, lead this unit?
>*Knock knock*
>It's only when you've tasted blood that you realize you've sunk your fangs into your bottom lip.
>Any relief you felt in the face of something concrete to focus on is washed away by a new wave of anxiety.
>"Nocturnal, are you still in there?"
>You’d figured out who would be on the other side of that door long before they spoke.
>It was Sepulchre, undoubtedly keen to find out why you'd uncharacteristically upended the day.
>It would be so easy just to pretend you were here or send her away...
>But taking the easy route is what's gotten you into this mess, isn't it?
>Alright Pike, poker face.
>You were NOT in the middle of having a crisis, no ma'am.
"Come in!"
>Only /just/ remembering the poke in your lip, you manage to wipe the blood away with a hoof right as the mare walks in.
>As usual her face is fairly impassive, although you catch that the very edges of her mouth are ever so slightly downturned.
>An expression of concern you suppose.
>Sepulchre’s usually one to get right down to business, so you elect to sit quietly and let her start.
>She takes longer than you’d have liked, spending a few silent moments sizing you up from the other side of the desk.
>The longer she waits, the more your anxieties threaten to flare up once more.
>Forcing you to dump ever more of your mental faculties into keeping your face straight.
>To not show a SINGLE sign of weakness.
>Which leaves you so hyper focused that you don't even notice the blood continuing to run from your lip until it reaches your chin.
>Too late to do anything about it now.
>Maybe if you just ignore it she won’t notice?
>Oh who are you kidding?
>The mare’s eyes are already tracing your face, widening slightly as they settle upon your self-inflicted puncture wound.
>Which is what finally motivates her to speak.
>”Nocturnal I—” she cuts herself off, clearing her throat and straightening her posture before continuing. “My subordinates have relayed to me some /troubling/ rumors.”
>Like the cork off a campaign bottle you feel your anxiety /explode/.
>Oh Luna, did word somehow get out already?
>Did somepony see the apron and spill the beans!?
>”And I must ask: is everything alright at home?”
>Just as the fear threatens to spill over, something lets you pump the brakes.
>Her question seemed to imply the problem was your relationship with Anon, not you.
“What do you mean?”
>For the first time you’ve ever seen, Stable Sepulchre looks nervous.
>”I’ll be blunt. Your coltfriend, Anonymous? Has he been... abusing you?”
>It appears that today’s emotional roller coaster is far from over.
>You really shouldn’t be surprised, considering the way he covered for you last night, but the sincerity of the question still catches you off guard.
>Maybe it's the absurdity of the idea, or maybe you were just overly desperate for some levity, but in either case, you find yourself laughing out loud.
>Which of course does nothing to soothe the visibly perturbed Sepulchre, but you really couldn’t care less right now.
>”Nocturnal, this is serious.”
>You make no attempt to even acknowledge her question, losing yourself to the deep belly laugh.
>The very idea of Anon abusing you has you crying with laughter.
>He doesn’t have an abusive bone in his body!
>He practically had a panic attack worrying about hurting your and Cut’s feelings, and HE’S the “abusive” one!
>What a riot!
>”Nocturnal!” Sepulchre comes with a hair’s breadth of shouting.
>Realizing you’re coming dangerously close to actually pissing the mare off, you finally try to get a hold of yourself.
“Ha! Ahhh, sorry Sepulchre it's just... Anon’s not the problem here.”
>She doesn’t look like she believes you, which you suppose would be a good thing if he /was/ abusing you.
>”Are you certain? I’ve heard some pretty dire things.”
>You let out a breath that it felt like you were holding for ages.
>That laugh really gave you a second wind, you feel like you can focus again.
>Focus on something that isn’t your own anxieties, anyway.
>“I’m sure, Stable. It’s on me, and my mom.”
>You look away from her, focusing instead on a framed picture of you and your mother.
>It was the day you graduated from officer's school.
>The photo was just of the two of you, you dressed in your shiny new armor...
>You were so excited you’d wanted to jump for joy, but you knew Mom wanted you to stay stoic.
>To not outwardly show your emotions, like a true mare.
>You wouldn’t know it from the photo, but she said she’d never been prouder of you that day.
“I just... need some time to figure things out is all.”
>When you turn back towards Sepulchre, you see her face has returned to its natural neutral position.
>”I see. I suppose if this is going to continue to impact the quality of your work, you intend to make use of your excess of your vacation days then?”
>Your breath catches in your throat.
“My what?”
>”You have the better part of two months after all,” she continues. “Especially after you covered for me when my filly was born.”
>You feel like such an absurdly massive moron.
>How did you forget about those!?
>Oh who are you trying to fool, you know exactly how you forgot about those.
>You’re such a workaholic you haven’t taken a non-crown-mandated holiday in YEARS!
>A half-formed idea shoots right to the surface of your mind, and you’re desperate enough that you act on it without a second thought.
“Yes!” you try not to sound like you’re pulling this out of your flank. “As a matter of fact I’d like to take off from now until after Hearthswarming. Now as in, right now.”
>Sepulchre looks genuinely taken aback.
>”Oh! Well, normally I’d insist we discuss coverages and run this by the staff sergeant first. But frankly, I foresee no issues with your schedules or your unit. I suppose you can head home and I’ll pass this on to Horseshoe.”
>She takes one more worried glance at your bloodied lip.
>”Personal emergency and all that.”
>Even now you can feel that malformed idea coming together into a “plan”, and that alone is enough to let you breathe a true sigh of relief.
>Some ponies might consider this running away from your problems here, but sometimes a tactical retreat is the best option.
“Thank you, Stable.”
>And with that, you take wing.

>You’re standing in front of the door to your apartment now, trying to think of what you’re going to say.
>It took awhile to get here, both literally and figuratively you suppose.
>Literally because you took the long way home.
>You undeniably needed it.
>While Thestrals normally don’t agree with the winter air, you found it did wonders to help you clear your head.
>And the raw distance itself gave you plenty of time to think.
>To chew on that half-formed idea of what to do without your sudden vacation until it became a real plan of attack.
>And therein lies the figurative aspect.
>Because no matter how you saw this going, you knew there was only one way you could start.
>You needed to actually open up and talk to Anon and Cut about this.
>By trying to work this out on your own, all you’ve been doing was depriving yourself of every support network you had.
>Which is what led to the waking nightmare you had in your office today.
>A mare may not be supposed to open up like this, but it's what needs to be done.
>So with a deep breath, you place your hoof on the knob and open the door.
>There’s nopony in the main room, but you immediately notice Anon’s discarded saddlebags lying by the couch.
>Which is very odd, he usually doesn’t just toss them in a corner like that.
>What’s even stranger is Anon rarely gets home before Cut, but you don’t see hide nor hair of her either.
>If they were in the /bedroom/ you’d at least hear something but—
>Hold on, you DO hear something.
>”Oh God. It’s so much worse than it was in Junior High. How is it worse?”
>It's the muffled sound of Anon’s voice, it sounds like it's coming from the bathroom.
>And it sounds like he’s in distress!
>You pick up the pace, tearing your way through your humble home until you round the corner into the bathroom.
>There you find quite possibly the most miserable looking stallion you’ve ever seen.
”Sweet Luna what happened!?”
>He’s seated in the tub, soaked from head to hoof in bathwater.
>Your assessment of his voice was clearly accurate.
>Even as the soothing sounds of brush on fur fill the room, he’s shivering with revulsion.
>Furthermore as he weakly looks toward you, you recognize the burdened expression of a pony who’s recently tossed their oats.
>Seeing you come in, his pallid face lights up just a little, and he weakly reaches toward you.
>”Pike... Pike come here...” his voice sounds as pathetic as he looks.
>As he stretches out, a familiar tan face peeks out from behind him.
>”Oh, hey Pike! Uh, welcome home?”
>Still hoping for some answers, and seeing as Anon was clearly a little out of it, you make for Cut’s side of the tub.
>In contrast to how lazy the motion seemed earlier, Anon’s hoof tracks you the whole way with laser accuracy.
>As you near Cut you make the mistake of coming within range, and that’s when he strikes!
>His sopping wet hoof goes right into your mane to start petting your head.
>You’re a little annoyed by having the bath brought to you, but you let him have his moment.
>It's not like it feels /bad/, mane full of bathwater notwithstanding.
>Having closed the distance, Cut leans down to whisper to you.
>”The medics didn’t give me many specifics, but apparently he had a BAD reaction to some bodyspray.”
>Her eyes shift between him and yourself.
>”He uh, doesn’t like talking about it. He threw up. A lot.”
>Ah, that explains it.
>It's like an inverse version of when you used your tuft to calm him down.
>Instead of leaving him smiley and giddy he’s been left pallid and queasy.
>And more importantly, in no condition to have the serious conversation you’d wanted.
>Normally you’d be over the moon at that, the universe giving you an excuse to put off things once more.
>This time though? It sucks.
>Moving his hoof off your head, you wipe the bathwater off your face.
Letting out a sigh, you reply, “Ah, I see. I’ll go get some tea going. I know we’ve got /something/ that should settle our little diva’s stomach.”
>You heard Cut chuckle as you turned away, before making for the door.
>You figured that’d be the end of it.
>Until you realized your hooves weren’t touching the ground.
>”Oh NO you don’t!”
>Anon, seemingly having found his second wind, magically lifts you into the air.
>Before you can even reflexively EEEE, he’s dragging you into the tub with him.
“ANON!” you shout.
>But it's too late, you’ve splashed down.
>If you were wet before, you’re soaked now.
>You can’t even properly thrash, because just as quickly you find yourself imprisoned by large fuzzy green bars that lock you in a bear hug.
>You blush more than a little as those bars press you against his underside with all his strength.
>Guess he doesn’t want you to go.
>When he speaks, his voice isn’t nearly as weak as it was before.
>Although, that could be because when you’re below him like this you can /feel/ his voice as much as you hear it.
>”You’re not going anywhere! Me and Cut let you off the hook this morning, but not this time! You’re going to tell us what’s been bothering you, or I’m keeping you here all night.”
>To emphasize his point, he squeezes you just a little bit.
>It's a symbolic gesture, you know you /could/ get out of his grip if you wanted.
>In fact, a part of you really wants to, in revenge for such blatant marehandling.
>But... even soaking wet you can’t deny how nice it feels.
>Huddled under him like this, you feel so safe.
>Paradoxically, despite being the source of your troubles you feel like all the world’s problems are a million miles away.
>Guess this is a sign Pike, it's now or never.
“Okay... okay.”

>So you told them everything.
>All the way from the very beginning, from that first night when he spooned you.
>Every fear, every second guess, you lay it all bare for the two of them.
>Much to your shame, you even started sobbing halfway through.
>Anon and Cut said there was nothing wrong with that of course, but you knew better.
>Sobbing like a filly into your coltfriend’s foreleg? Completely embarrassing, no matter what they say.
>Despite that, by the end you felt great.
>Like a massive weight had been lifted from your shoulders.
>It all feels so clear now, you should have done this ages ago.
>You’re all still in the tub of course, the water having turned lukewarm thirty minutes ago.
>But not once did anypony make a move to leave, Anon and Cut stayed with you the whole time.
>Cut even came around to the other side of you, to put you in a “hug sandwich” as she awkwardly called it.
>And that hug sandwich is where you’ve stayed.
>”God, Pike, I’m so sorry. How did I... why didn’t you tell us sooner?”
>You look up and give him what passes for a deadpan look with your swollen puffy eyes.
>”Uh, right. Dumb question, you went over that already.”
>The schadenfreude of watching him trip over his own thoughts puts a little smile on your face.
>Cut of course is fairing no better.
>”Thank you for telling us. I-I,” she wipes a small tear of her own out of her eye. “I don’t think I could have if I were you. I don’t think I’d be strong enough.”
>This? Strong?
>You’ll have to disagree with her there, but you appreciate the gesture.
>Before you can say anything though, Anon presses himself into you even harder.
>”I can’t believe I’ve been putting you through this the whole time and I didn’t know. God I’m so, so sorry.”
>Oh no, you know where this is going!
>That last thing you’re going to stand for right now is your coltfriend beating himself up over this, no ma’am!
“Anon don’t,” the finality in your voice cuts him off. “These months have been the best I’ve had in years. You made me /happy/.”
>Reaching up a hoof, you run it along his face.
“So don’t you DARE do that thing where you work yourself into a tizzy over my feelings. It's MY turn to be a little bastard this time, you hear me?”
>At first he doesn’t say anything, and you start to worry your little joke might have been too ill timed.
>But then a chuckle from him, and a snrrk from Cut is all it takes before the three of you break out into familiar laughter.
>With the mood finally lifted, Anon states the obvious.
>”Guess we should get out of the tub, huh?”
>They finally let you go, and while you’ll miss their embrace, they are right.
>Time to get your flank out of this water.
>”Yeeeeah,” says Cut.
>You let the two of them go first, not wanting to get lost in a tangle of limbs.
>Anon’s out first, and he of course starts shaking himself off like a dog.
>Cut herself is only halfway out when she turns back to you.
>”So what are we going to do about your unit? And... well...”
>”My sister,” is the part she can’t bring herself to say.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I’ve decided to step away from the unit for the time being, give myself some time to think.”
>”Step away?” Anon asks with a hint of concern. “How so?”
>You nervously rub the back of your head.
“I just took some vacation days! I only had... two months...”
>Anon and Cut guffaw at your embarrassed expression.
>”Yeah, I bet you do, you little workaholic,” he laughs. “What are you even going to do with yourself until Hearthswarming?”
>That is a very good question.
>One you really hadn’t given much thought to.
“I don’t know. Try all the things I’ve wanted to do since I was a filly I guess?”
>You dig through your brain to find an example.
“Paint maybe?”
>Anon snorts through his nose.
>”Sorry honey, but I don’t see you as the painting type.”
>”Hey! You don’t know that!” Cut fires back. “Maybe she’s got a hidden talent for it.”
>Finally feeling it was time to climb out of the tub yourself, you take wing.
>Heading right for Anon, you make several quick turns above his head.
>This, as you’ve found, dries you off very effectively!
>...and dumps all the water onto whoever’s below you.
>”Wha— hey!”
>Aha! Revenge at last for being marehandled and dragged into the tub.
>With a smile on your face, you land right next to the once again sopping wet Anon.
“And I call this masterpiece: Soaked Stallion!”
>Cut giggles into her hoof while the stallion grumbles, his previous queasiness all but forgotten.
>”Har har har,” he says. “Laugh while you can: tonight it's my turn to cook!”

And that's all for tonight! A different flavor than usual. One that needed doing and was a good exercise, but admittedly this is the heaviest I think the story will ever get. Sorry it took so long, this ended up feeling pretty far out of my wheelhouse. And as always r8 and h8, and FYI for pose people, bobbles caught the 'vid so the prose version of this is probably still a ways out.

Report SQA · 255 views · #rgre #the long and short of it

Comments ( 5 )