Proof/Sneak Preview · 2:11pm Sep 28th, 2017
I've had a lot of difficulties with this chapter. I still do. And I regret having to make anyone who is still reading and waiting to have to wait so long just for the next part. But I want to thank whoever is still tracking this story and being so patient for me to finish. I seriously doubt I would be writing today if not for you and the comments that you post. There isn't much I can give, but I hope this section in Sparkyll and Hyde's next chapter will suffice as a thank you gift. Enjoy.
In three minutes, he had his things packed and the Wonderbolts trademark saddlebag slung over his good shoulder, the one Nightfall hadn't sliced weeks ago.
The one that Twilight had fixed...
The bandage at his ribcage burned in a way that he couldn't ignore it. Swearing under his breath, he tore it off and went to get a new one from his stash under the bed. The lunchbox that contained these was rusted on the hinges and made unpleasant squeals when opened, but it was the only thing he had as a container to avoid raising certain questions from his coworkers.
As for putting the bandage on, the task was clumsy, and he spent two minutes fiddling with the adhesive strips before he managed to adjust them in a way that mimicked the precision of a unicorn. It still hung off so that a breeze moving at the right angle could tear it away, but it would have to do.
When Princess Cadence had come to him, he had thought for certain she was intending to arrest him. That he would be convicted of conspiracy was the reason he suddenly feared one who otherwise stood as the icon of comfort and peace, and why he'd hidden the bandage stash at all; too many questions could easily become one's downfall.
But her asking of his interactions with Nightfall Hyde stoked a spark in him. He had hardly thought his answer out when he'd told Cadence exactly what he thought of the Canterlot Murderer and her mindset of resorting to self-indulgence. Giving up simply wasn't an option for him anymore, for it was his old life - his performance rates had fallen because of his self-indulgence with the lovely mares of the nightlife, and he'd first indulged because he was slipping down the ranks like the failure he thought himself. What he said was true in absolution.
The realization that Nightfall was wrong had come to him earlier that day, right after she had given him that wound across his ribs just for questioning her. As he'd laid on his bed, patting the cut with his sheets, he was helpless to watch bandages become wasted again and again. The smell of copper became familiar to him, and red was his accenting color - he had woken himself up to what Nightfall, and himself by extension, really were.
He knew, without any doubt holding him back, that what he now wanted no longer had room for Nightfall's mindset, or for Nightfall herself.
So are you comin back or you just los interest in mlp
Sorry for bad inglish