The rooms were, oddly, both too large, and too small, Damsel reflected as she looked around one last time.

Hiveward quarters always tended to be smaller than their Stableward equivalents, though not by much. The difference mostly came from the changeling tendency to create curved structures, giving the places they built a cozy, homey feeling that suited the insectoid equines quite nicely. Quite a difference from the sharper angles Stable construction used, allowing for more floorspace and room to move, something that was known to ease the minds of the fuzzier equine inhabitants during long periods of confinement... such as one or two decades underground.

Damsel mused over this as she finished packing... or tried to, as Merry May took charge and bustled about in that way only a broody pegasus really could, directing Ironside and recieving more than a few distracted "Yes, Dear"'s in response from the beleagured stallion.

It really was too small, the changeling decided, for a pony herd. A changeling pair would have been quite at home, even a small changeling family. Perhaps, at a stretch, a pony and changeling pairing. It may have lacked the traditional pony-style bed, or even the low platforms that some quarters had, but there was something to be said for curling up in one of the larger alcoves formed into the curving walls, and if the previous night had taught her anything, Damsel understood all too well the draw of sharing those cozy nooks with a warm, soft pony... or two.

But, for all the apparent smallness of the quarters, Damsel found herself looking at the two small boxes before her with an odd feeling welling up inside. Two small boxes, barely large enough to cover the "table" in the living room. Two small boxes that seemed to almost get lost inside the suddenly cavernous quarters. Two small boxes for almost a lifetime's worth of posessions.

Everything Damsel owned was packed into those two small boxes. Well-packed, she'd admit, by the proud and eager Merry May. But still... her whole life fit into such a small space. The odd feeling welled up again, a sense of disquiet that rolled around inside her, a kind of restlesness that made her hooves itch... even, she realised as she went to pack the last, and most important thing with her own hooves, her new hoof.

Carefully, appreciating the rubber sole that Maintenance had fashioned for her prosthetic leg, Damsel wrapped the small, resin figure in a cloth, before placing it with the rest of her posessions.

With a final look around, a final sweep with Ironside and Merry to be sure nothing was missed, Damsel departed from her former quarters for the last time. Now, she had a new home, one much larger, but somehow smaller, and thinking of her destination and her new herd shoved aside the odd feelings that had been welling up and replaced them all with a growing sense of warmth, bolstered by a flighty, bubbly happiness on one side and a steady, solid contenment on the other.

Lorikeet was confused. It was something he'd almost, but not quite, gotten used to, ever since returning from the outside world, and something he'd felt less and less as time went by.

But sometimes, something would jump out at the young flutterpony and make him hesitate for a moment or two as his mind tried to make sense of it.

This time, it was finding his copy of the Stable Regulations. It was clearly his, it had his bookmarks in it, and his notes still scrawled in the margins from when he was studying to join Security. It wasn't so much finding his book that had him feeling out-of-sorts, or even where he'd found it, half-buried under dirty barding on the nightstand.

What had left him bewildered was the room where he'd found it. The last time he'd seen it was before he'd even left the Hive, and it was safely tucked away in his quarters. Now, though... now it was on a nightstand. Under a mare's barding. In quarters that definitely weren't his, because they belonged to Holly.

Lorikeet wracked his brain, surely he'd seen the book the last time he'd been in his quarters... hadn't he? Moving almost on autopilot, he continued his cleaning, straightening things as he moved around the room.

The book had definitely been there, he remembered seeing it.

Dirty barding, some for a mare, some for a stallion, all with wing slits and Security markings, were shaken out and placed in a hamper.

It was right where he left it, with his other manuals beside his terminal.

The bed was made, the blankets tucked in neatly and the two-ponies-worth pile of pillows fluffed.

How long ago was that?

Long, warm winter socks brought a blush and averted eyes as they joined the barding in the hamper.

Definitely before he'd left with Damsel. But since? He tried to remember the last time he'd spent the night in his own quarters, or even visited them.

Stray feathers were swept up and deposited in a neat pile. Holly would decide what to do with them later. He half-hoped they'd go to making pillows... pegasus feathers made good bedding and Holly was quite soft to rest his head on, after all.

With a start and a snort, Lorikeet looked around as he came to a sudden realisation, asking himself a question that seemed both very important, and not important at all. "How long have I been living here?"

A few minutes later, the door hissed open, Holly's happy presence breaking him out of his muddled thoughts, the perky pegasus prancing in with a plate of fruit on her back, the produce clearly purloined from the kitchens. "Breakfast!" The cheery mare practically sang as she slid the plate down one wing and onto the table, before she turned to rummage in the icebox... the icebox that Lorikeet also recognised. Shaking his head with a smile, he left his cleaning behind, confusing thoughts and sudden revelations banished by his partner's presence, and replaced by a warm sense of belonging.

Far above both Stable and Hive, Honeycut and Hawkeye watched the town as it slowly came to life in the late morning light. All around them, ponies and changelings were slowly repopulating the surface, though many of them still called the undergound their home. For many of them, particuarly the generations born in the Stable or too young to remember the surface at all, the vast world above was strange and just a little unsettling. Most nights tended to see the town all but abandoned, the seemingly endless darkness filling those unlucky enough to be above ground with a deep, primal fear that gnawed deep in their equine souls.

Because of that, any Security personnel stationed topside were kept on short shifts, patrolling quickly after dark before returning to the relative comfort of the town hall, where true safety was just a staircase away.

During the day, though, ponies and changelings alike would often wander up from the comforting depths to bask in what little sunlight made it through the ever-present clouds and stretch their legs properly. A few tentative gardens had even sprung up, though no-one had really resettled into any of the abandoned houses in any permanent fashion.

Two decades away had dulled most ponies' and changelings' eagerness to return to their former abodes, after all.

It was this minor hustle and bustle that Hawkeye watched as he sipped from a flask. "Warm day today," he stated simply, offering the flask to his companion.

Honeycut nodded his agreement as he took a sip himself. "Eeyup. Warm day indeed."