Equine behaviour · 5:59pm Jul 24th, 2018
Copperquick awoke to a punch in the snoot followed by a demanding, “Foosh.” This sort of awakening fell well outside of the boundaries of normal, and because of this, it took his sleepy brain some time to process and determine exactly what had just happened. He never reached his conclusion though, because there was another punch, a harder one this time, and then came the command again, only angry: “Foosh!”
“Ow!” Nothing woke one up like a good punch to the snot locker. Eyes watering, Copperquick came to an unintended conclusion: his daughter had some strength in those stubby little legs of hers. When he lifted his head to address her, she got him a third time and this one, this one hurt.
“What’s going on?” asked Buttermilk while she half turned over to find out what the commotion was.
Just as Buttermilk was about to say something else, Copperquick, his nose throbbing with its own heartbeat, heard a meaty thump and then the pegasus in the bed beside him shouted, “Ow! Oi! What in the name of cheese was that for?”
“Foosh! Fooshy-foosh!”
Copperquick looked at Buttermilk with teary eyes, Buttermilk looked at Copperquick, and there was a filly between them, sitting up and looking quite distressed. When she raised her hoof once more, it was Buttermilk who reacted; with lightning speed, the pegasus departed the bed, wings buzzing, with Esmeralda held in her forelegs.
Mighty Midge snatched Esmeralda away from an unsuspecting Buttermilk and then flew away, buzzing through the kitchen while cooing at his stolen prize. Copperquick, his nose still achining, was a little surprised to see Midge, because he was usually gone. Buttermilk’s father seemed quite taken with Esmeralda and was eager to spend his day off spoiling her. Her breakfast was already on the floor; Midge plopped her down so she could eat and then sat beside her, humming to himself.
This felt nice, this moment of family togetherness. The excitement and anticipation of the coming race only served to further heighten the moment, but Copperquick wasn’t quite awake enough to fully take it all in. Crossing the room, he sat down at the table, turned his head, and watched while his daughter buried her muzzle into her bowl of mush.
“One thousand gold bits, Copper,” Mighty Midge said, his voice far too chipper for this early, almost sunless hour. “All you have to do is go fast, and you can do that, right?”
“Oi, Midgy, it’s too early for that kind of talk.” Butter Fudge’s right ear rose from its relaxed position and her tail swished around behind her. “Not sure how I feel about this gambling. It’s for a good cause though, I suppose.”
“I don’t see it as gambling,” said Buttermilk to her mother.
“How so, Beezy?”
“Gambling has an element of chance, like rolling dice or getting just the ride cards. This is a matter of skill and the random factors are well-controlled, such as having different races for pegasus ponies, unicorns, and earth ponies. It comes down to the fastest, and the fastest gets the prize money.”
“Oi, still a gamble. No guarantee Copper’ll win. Though, if I were a betting mare, I’d drop a hefty portion of my considerable savings on Copper making the other ponies eat dust for lunch.” Butter Fudge’s right eyebrow rose to join her raised right ear and gave her daughter a pointed stare.
“Oh, you’re talking about the gambling that is going to happen on the race itself—Moomy, that’s different.” After a moment of concentration, Buttermilk’s eyes widened. “Moomy, what are you planning? You’re not about to do what I think you are, are you?”
“You keep saying I need to change, to be more flexible, to be more open-minded about stuff—”
“Moomy, if you and Daddums want to help Copper, giving him the bits directly is a better, safer method.”
“There’s my smart filly,” Midge remarked while Esmeralda rooted around in her mush. “Your mother and I discussed doing just that last night, Beezy. A bit of pillow talk just before bed. We’re confident—”
“Daddums, every gambler feels confident about winning! It’s a fool’s game, you said so yourself.” As she was prone to do when challenged, angry, or threatened, Buttermilk fluffed out and when she did, her father scowled, then he too, fluffed out. This in turn caused Buttermilk even more distress, and she gave her father a silent, challenging stare that was distinctly pegasus in nature.
“Oi, stop that, you two.” Butter Fudge, having shared her living space with two pegasus ponies for so long, knew exactly what was going on. “You both look like excited feather dusters and seeing you like this puts me in a mood to clean house.”
Mighty Midge’s ears stood up and he gave his mate his best, most offended stare.
“The way I see it, Copper’s going to work for it, and that satisfies my sense of what’s right. I’m paying him to win.” Butter Fudge ignored her husband’s bulging cheeks and the throaty, warbling noises of challenge that he made.
“This is not the home I grew up in,” said Buttermilk in a matter-of-fact way while her father waved his wings about in a threatening manner.
The problem with living with pegasus ponies, as Copperquick saw it, was that they were not earth ponies. Having observed Buttermilk’s reactions for quite some time now, and now witnessing her father’s response to being challenged, Copperquick realised that living with pegasus ponies was for the birds, but he was far too polite to say anything.
It was impossible to have a serious conversation with a challenged pegasus.
He's right, you know. You can't take them seriously when they do that.
*Floofs*
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4907013
Who can take that seriously?
Don't boop the snoot don't boop the snoot don't--
[boops the snoot]
"Oh crap."
It's why a non-Pegasi married to a Pegasi saves serious discussions for when they are showering, if they're soaking wet they can't really poof up.
4907077
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4907025
it doesn't get super serious until he starts hopping around with his wings behind his head, bobbing his head around. that is when they get REALLY serious. like 'you better be willing for death duels with fire swords' serious.