It didn’t matter that the room was cold, all Sumac could feel was an exquisite, life-affirming warmth that seemed to radiate through his bones. Tarnish and Maud were dancing, a slow-moving yet still spirited dance. Watching them made Sumac feel funny, as if he would be overcome with emotions, and for reasons he did not understand, he kept thinking of Pebble.
There was something about the way they danced, looking into one another’s eyes, forelegs wrapped around one another—Sumac had never seen anything quite like it. Tarnish was tall on four legs, and a giant on two. Maud was shorter, but that didn’t matter. She looked up, he looked down, and the pair of them moved as if they were somehow weightless.
There seemed to be no reason behind it, Sumac could not understand the purpose. They were not dressed up, there was no music, Tarnish had just moved in, swept Maud up, and then began pirouetting with her around the room. It was easier to understand now why they wanted such a large house—it gave them room to dance. Around and around they went, swaying, sashaying, dipping, and sometimes smooching, when Tarnish bent his long neck down.
The kissing was awkward, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to look at. If anypony asked, Sumac would have to say it was gross on principle, because he had a reputation to uphold and because, deep down, kissing really was gross. Yuck.
Was this family? Having dance partners? The hows and the whys mystified Sumac. Now, Pinkie Pie was getting involved, and as it turned out, she too, was a splendid dancer. Giggling, she pulled Trixie up off of the cushion on the floor, (who wanted to sit on the cold stone, anyhow) and waltzed the Befuddled and Protesting Trixie around the room while everypony watched. The dance was strange to watch. It was too close, too touchy to just be a friendly, casual dance, and Sumac wondered if it was something more.
What was family? Sumac asked this question often, and while watching Maud and Tarnish dance, he wondered; were families engines for creating memories? One day, all of this would be a pleasant memory, something he would look back and reflect upon. In the future, he might even share a dance with Pebble, hoping to relive this wonderful memory and bring it to life once more.
The pale light of morning streamed in through the windows, filling the room with golden haze and illuminating the floating dust motes. The room was filled with curios, knick knacks, shelves, racks, and all manner of fascinating stuff. In a glass display case over the fireplace mantle, there was not one, but two guns, curious things, a small, silver pistol and a tremendous shotgun that had etched images of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna on the barrels.
Sumac noticed none of these things at the moment, so enraptured was he at the sight of the adults in his life dancing with one another. There was no music, yet the motions seemed to follow some sense of rhythm, some means of time. Trixie was now making a valiant effort to dance, and the tip of her tongue stuck out in concentration. Pinkie Pie was into the moment, enjoying herself, and it seemed as if she gave no thought to what she was doing.
“It’s funny,” Pebble whispered as she leaned over and placed her muzzle next to Sumac’s ear. “I used to watch my parents dance and sometimes, it would fill me with rage because I wanted to be the center of attention. Sometimes, I still feel a little jealous, to be honest, but I think I’m getting better, because now I feel happy sometimes when I watch them dance.”
“Only sometimes?” Sumac asked, evoking the sort of honesty only found in foals.
“Well, I haven’t sorted everything out just yet,” Pebble replied and her ears went limp. “I’m still sorting everything out, ya know? Not everything is fixed yet. But having you around helps, because you’re nice to me and you pay me attention. It’s something my mother and I have in common. We’re both complete saps for somepony that pays us attention. We’ve talked about it a lot.”
“You’re the weirdest filly I know and I can’t ignore you.” Sumac’s statement caused much heavy breathing in Pebble, and that caused a curious rush of excitement in the colt. He didn’t know why he liked the sound of her heavy breathing, or why it made his heart race, but like it he did and he began to wonder what else he might say to make her breathe hard. “You’re just so weird. What else can I do with you?”
Now, Pebble sounded like a train and Sumac was delighted in his newfound power.
The pieces of the birdhouse were sprawled out on the floor, along with various arts and crafts supplies. Pebble wanted to make a stone cottage birdhouse, and thanks to Sumac’s telekinesis, such a thing was possible. Pebble had a bag of decorative gravel stashed away in her room—such a thing was common for earth ponies—only now it was on the floor beside the pre-cut wooden birdhouse pieces. No hot glue gun was needed, another advantage to being a unicorn.
“I have an idea on how we can do a thatched roof,” Sumac said.
“You do?” both Pebble and Octavia said together.
Sumac managed to nod, which was quite an accomplishment. “If we get a section of hemp rope about a half a foot long and unravel it, we can use the strands and make them look like thatch.”
“Hmm,” Octavia hummed as she reached up and rubbed her chin. “That’s boxing clever.”
The sunlight that came through the window like a flood was warming up the room now, along with the crackling fire. The stone floor was beginning to get a hint of warmth in it as the sun shone upon it, and by evening time, there would be significant heat trapped in the stone, so much so that it might even be almost pleasant enough to walk on.
But for now, cold frogs!
It was Pebble who lept up and went off in search of rope, leaving Sumac and Octavia alone together. Meanwhile, Tarnish and Megara were having the time of their lives together, along with Boomer, who was inexplicably awake somehow. Pinkie Pie and Trixie were making a birdhouse together, a pairing that confused Sumac a little bit, as they would no doubt want very different things from a birdhouse. Vinyl and Maud were making a go of things and Vinyl had a wide, crazy smile. Lemon Hearts and Twinkleshine were sipping tea and just staring at their birdhouse parts.
“I’ve been thinking about being a mom,” Sumac whispered to Octavia, and right away, he regretted his choice of words. A hot blush appeared on his cheeks, and it was made even worse when Octavia started giggling.
“Have you now?” Octavia asked in a muted voice.
“I mean, what makes a mom. I mean… I started calling Trixie mom and things changed between us. She didn’t give birth to me, but she’s still my mom, and that’s kinda confusing, because that means that anypony can be your mom, really, and you can have more than one mother, and the more I think about it, the more confusing it gets, and now Pebble is starting to think of you as her mom, and it all has me thinking.”
“Ah yes, the introvert’s need to categorise all of their various relationships.” Octavia took a deep breath, held it for a second, and let it all out in a long, thoughtful sigh. “I too, have been thinking about what defines a family. It’s all very confusing, really. Vinyl and I are no longer a couple, not like we once were. Our lives are interwoven with Maud and Tarnish. To be honest, I haven’t quite figured out what we all are, just yet. I’d like to be Pebble’s mother. And when I have my foal, I want my foal to see Pebble as their sister. Not half-sister, but just sister. I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what constitutes a family. What brings us together? What does it all mean?”
“It seems to me that life is all about making bonds and then figuring out what to name them,” Sumac said, putting his complicated thoughts into simple words.
“Oh, that’s very wise, Sumac.” Sighing again, Octavia reached out and pulled Sumac into a cuddle. “What happens when you can no longer call yourselves just friends… I am madly, deeply in love with Tarnish, and Maud too… but it isn’t a love acknowledged by physical affection. I must confess, Sumac, there are times when I just don’t have everything as sorted out as much as I’d like.”
“Things get complicated, don’t they?” Sumac murmured as he felt Octavia’s heart beating against his back.
“Oh, for certain. And one day, things are going to get complicated between you and Pebble.”
“They already are,” Sumac confessed. “We’ve done things, Pebble and I. I’ve kissed her and she’s kissed me back. It was gross. I keep having dreams about kissing her, and they’re super-gross. I wish Princess Luna would stop teasing me.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Octavia began giggling and she did her best not to shake Sumac. She tightened her embrace around him and pressed her fine chin into one of his fuzzy ears. In that moment, Sumac realised that he and Octavia had something that went beyond simple friendship, but he had no idea, no clue what it might be, what to call it, or how to label it so it could be properly expressed.
It took a lot of concentration and effort to affix each pebble into place with a spot of hot glue, but Sumac was managing. The birdhouse was put together, each piece was held in place with a combination of tongues, grooves, and pegs. The thatched roof, made of stringy rope strands, was already in place. Now came the tedium that Sumac enjoyed.
Each one of the pebbles in the bag of decorative gravel was smooth and polished looking, as if it had come out of a stream. There were all kinds of colours, and Sumac tried to make sure that no two same colours were touching one another. Row after row, pebble after pebble, he worked his way up from the bottom of the birdhouse, dabbing in a drop of hot glue and then pressing a tiny stone into place. It had to be perfect.
“Look at him Pebble, see how he concentrates. Who does that remind you of?” Octavia gestured at Sumac with her foreleg.
“Vinyl,” Pebble replied as Sumac secured another stone into place. “I think he’s picking up on some of Vinyl’s habits.”
“We’re doomed,” Octavia deadpanned.
With his ears angled out over his eyes, Sumac refused to allow his concentration to be broken. Every stone had to be perfect. Vinyl had told him that perfection could only be achieved through patience, and it was a lesson he had taken to heart. Vinyl might seem as though she was impetuous and impatient, but Sumac knew his master better. That was an act. Vinyl had crafted a persona. Ponies believed her to be irresponsible, ditzy, disorganised, careless, and maybe even a bit stupid. She projected this carefully constructed image to the world as DJ Pon-3.
The Herald of Selene was no fool, no empty-headed-idiot. Vinyl didn’t have a talent for magic, not like Twilight or Starlight, but she was recognised as one of the most technically proficient wizards in all of Equestria. Like Starlight, she used her knowledge of science and engineering to make herself dangerous. She did more with less. Right now, she was creating a voice for herself, from scratch. And Sumac was proud to be her apprentice.
With a sigh of satisfaction, Sumac finished another row of pebbles.
The birdhouse sat unfinished on the floor, and Sumac rested on his cushion. His magic felt a little drained, depleted, and he needed some time to recover. He was almost finished though, and the stone cottage birdhouse looked amazing. Pebble could not stop fawning over it, and Sumac was glad that he had made her happy.
Pebble was often an unhappy foal.
With a clink, a plate of dried fruit and a few cookies was put down in front of Sumac. When he tried to reach for one, his horn sparked, fizzled, and made a soft crackling hiss. There was no denying it, his get up and go had got up and left. Vinyl sat down on his cushion with him, shoving him over a bit with her hip, and then she levitated up a cookie.
Under most circumstances, Vinyl refused to help him unless he absolutely could not help himself, because she wanted him to explore his limits, to find where the edge was. So, at times like these when she did help him, it was meaningful, important, and caused Sumac a flood of emotions.
“That’s pretty impressive,” Vinyl said in a near-perfect imitation of Octavia’s voice. “You heated the glue, applied it, levitated the birdhouse, levitated the pebbles, turned and manipulated everything, and did it for several hours.” The voice seemed to be coming out of the cushion somehow.
“Plus, it looks amazing,” Pebble added. “It looks better than I had imagined.”
Sumac opened up his mouth to say something, but a whole cookie was crammed in by Vinyl. Left with no other option, he began chewing while looking at Pebble, taking note of the little details on her face that showed she was happy. Studying her face, Sumac reached one conclusion: Pebble was cute. He blinked once and demanded that his brain explained itself.
“I miss our stone cottage on the rock farm,” Pebble said, and then she heaved a wistful sigh.