Sharers' Day

by Carapace

4. In the Garden I Found Love

Her heart raced, beating in her ears like the steady beat of a marching drum. Toola felt her breathing quicken, each gulp of sweet air seemed to catch in the back of her throat before it ever made it to her lungs.

She tried to ignore it. Oh, how valiantly Toola fought against the treacherous nervousness which delved into her chest and gripped her heart like a claw. Her knees quacked and stiffened with each step she took down the well-trodden path toward her home. Any effort to reassure herself fell before a tidal wave of anxiety.

Why shouldn’t she feel nervous? What about all the things that might go wrong?

Why possibly couldn’t go wrong? Of all the days for her to freeze up and flub a big move, it would be today.

Today was Sharers’ Day and she was alone with Esalen. Today was the day she vowed to confess her feelings for the wonderful, brilliant, gorgeous nymph trotting by her side, completely innocent of her intent.

Or was she?

After all, Esalen could taste each and every emotion she felt—from slimy, rotten anxiety to fluffy, candy-sweet love, the very nectar of their race. What if Sure Stroke had been right? What if Esalen already knew?

It had been Esalen who pulled her aside to exchange gifts somewhere out of the way.

Alone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced back at her saddlebags. Toola had specifically kept her right side free of her own gifts so not to disturb the present she’d picked out for Esalen. Any tear in the wrapping paper would ruin everything. The yoga mat Sure Stroke bought her was stuffed into the left side pouch along with a few posters on yoga poses, courtesy of Vector and Zephyr, and a few bags of Chocolate Almond’s sweets from Aspire in repayment for all the delicious love he had to offer. Her family’s gift, a promise to take a special day trip to Manehattan on her birthday, had been given at home and stored safely in her desk.

A small part of her dared to wonder what Esalen had gotten her for all the times she’d offered love over the past year. Gifts from Sharers’ Days past flitted through her mind at blinding speed, each typically involved sweets, toys, or a book. Typical presents for friends.

With all the yoga-centric gifts she’d received today, she wouldn’t be surprised to get another. But …

She certainly wouldn’t mind something else.

A kiss would be more than enough.

Up ahead, she saw her family’s small wooden house situated against the southwest edge of the forest. Her mother’s garden stood off to the side, by a shed full of gardening tools and herbalist equipment. In short, all the stuff she and Nimble were strictly forbidden from playing around until the end of time.

Or, at least, until her mother forgave them for the time they broke one of her table legs and broke her nice ceramic jar fill of something-or-other. And several of its cousins.

Her eyes flitted to Esalen again. Those beautiful pink eyes glanced over toward her at that instant, a smile played upon her smooth, chitinous face. Not for the first time did she wonder just how easily it might be to get lost in those eyes if Esalen ever turned on her charm—more than the average Caretaker. Or how soft that flowing, sugar pink mane was.

Esalen guided her to the garden, her eyes seemed to dazzle like twinkling stars. The coy, impish smirk she so often wore practically spread across her face. “So,” she began slowly, “quite a week you had, I hear. Running all the way to Manehattan to find one last present, eh, giggle box?”

She knew. She just had to know.

Toola bit her bottom lip. “There was a … special someone I wanted to buy for.”

Black ears twitched. “Really now?” Esalen purred as she steered Toola toward the garden, passed a cluster of lillies as gold as sun, her mother’s favorite. She drew closer, rubbing their shoulders together and fluttering her eyelashes. “Would it be anyone I know? Or did you bounce away and slip it to someone while we weren’t looking?”

“N-No! I didn’t slip away!” Her cheeks burned. “The only other gifts I gave were to my parents and Nimmy.”

“So then it was to one of us.” The nymph tossed her mane, then stepped in front of Toola Roola, her hips turning and tail swishing in time with her steps. A lovely dance that tempted Toola to break eye contact for a bare second.

Oh, how tempting it was.

Esalen’s tongue flicked out. Her eyes narrowed as she drew in to fix Toola with a smoldering look. “I taste a yes there,” she teased. “So who was it? Zephyr was quite happy with that replica Royal Guard sword you had Haberdasher send from Manehattan, Aspire was way too happy for any nymph getting a trigonometry book, of all things …” Both fillies laughed at the memory of how his face lit up and his wings buzzed like a hive full of bees.

Even through a heavy blush and ocean of nerves, Toola couldn’t help it.

Then it all came crashing down like a tidal wave and strangled the laughter in the back of her throat. Her tail dipped as if to tuck between her legs, but she beat back the urge. Today was not a day for cowering. No! Today was a day of action.

Today was the day, darn it. She couldn’t falter now, not when everything was so close, so perfect! In her mother’s garden full of beautiful flowers, none so much as the nymph before her. But how to play it cool when her crush could literally tell her each emotion she was feeling?

Esalen’s smirk seemed to bloom into a full, toothy grin. “So,” she spoke slowly, stepping closer so their noses were but a hair’s breadth apart, “do I get to know whose present was so important it had you making secret trips to Manehattan without telling Nimble? Or do I need to pay a fee?”

Toola blinked twice. “A fee?”

“Why, yes. A trade, maybe?” Her horn lit olive green, a tendril of magic snaked into her saddlebags and retrieved a slender box about as long as her snout, and as wide as her braid. “I know it’s not exactly proper, since this is part of your gift, but I figure if I let you open yours first, it’s fair. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I … wait a minute, you pull this same trick every year.” She fixed Esalen with a glare, though the smile spreading across her rosy cheeks only served to diminish the effect. “You always tell me we ponies are supposed to sit still and receive ours first because that’s the way tradition works! And then everyone else just exchanges at random anyway!”

Giving a feigned gasp, Esalen brought a hoof to her chest. “Do I? Well, I suppose I’ll have to work on that! Can’t have me getting predictable with my tricks, or I might end up in remedial classes with Façade!” She waggled her ears, then stepped closer, trailing her hoof up Toola’s chest in a slow circle. “So,” she said softly, “what do I have to do to get that little secret out of you? I assume promises of no tickling are only the start of your price. Hmm?”

Toola licked her lips. There was only one thing she really wanted from Esalen. And getting it as part of some silly deal wasn’t the way to go about getting it—not properly, at least. The gymnast took a deep breath to steel her nerves and alleviate some of the tension in her shoulders. She glanced passed Esalen at a cluster of gorgeous carnations at the end of the path surrounded by jasmine bushels. The pathway itself ended in a little cul-de-sac, allowing a visitor to stand in the midst of all the lovely flora and fauna and just take it all in. Sugar pink, just like Esalen’s beautiful mane and eyes, and a nice, soothing scent for her own nerves.

Perfect.

“Why don’t we sit down first?” she asked, gesturing to the flower patch. “And maybe this year …”

Esalen’s ears swiveled forward. “Hmmm?” she prompted. “Go on.”

Toola swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Maybe this year you could let me go first?”

Her brows disappeared beneath her sugar pink bangs. Esalen’s smile twisted into a half grimace, half questioning frown. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I sort of like our little tradition where I trick you into letting me go first. It lets me watch you smile and squirm so.”

True, it did. How could she forget her first Sharers’ Day? Esalen had bought Toola a bottle of perfume from Maison de la Lune. Both of their families had been treated to the sight of their giggly, bouncy friend pouncing on a chittering nymph and trying to hug the very stuffing out of her while she squealed her thanks. Vanilla and lilac had been her favorite scent ever since.

It reminded her of that wonderful day. The day it all truly began for Toola Roola.

Normally, she might entertain their little tradition, but not today. There was too much at stake for her to go squirmy and such before she could say it. More importantly, before she could talk herself out of it.

Toola gracefully sidestepped around Esalen with a nervous giggle. “N-Nope! Not this time, Essy!” she sang as she trotted over toward the end of the path with a swish of her colorful tail. She stole a quick glance back and bit her lip when she noticed Eslalen’s eyes drift for a split second before they flitted up to meet hers again. A shiver ran down her spine. “This time, I’m going first, because mine has parts! So bring yourself over here and follow me for once!”

Those pink eyes flashed with glee. “All right,” Esalen drawled, slowly sashaying over. The sway in her hips more pronounced than before, for a moment she seemed all the more like Caress or Queen Euphoria prowling toward their mates. Or Vigil toward Sweet Treat.

The Enchanter blood in her? Or was it just a want to be near a pony she felt for strongly? Either way, the slow, sensuous sway in her hips and the gleam in those gorgeous eyes made Toola’s mouth run dry and stirred a warmth that drifted toward her tail. Another swish did little to alleviate it.

Once again, she licked her lips. Oh, did Esalen even realize the things she did to her?

Esalen stopped when she reached Toola, their noses once again practically touching. “So, then,” she said softly, motioning toward the path, “shall we sit down?”

She has to know. She just has to. With a jerky nod, Toola sat down a so quickly her rump hit the ground with a dull thud.

Amused, Esalen let out a snort, then sat gracefully beside her, swishing her tail as she scooted closer to the nervous filly. The ends teased and tickled Toola’s cutie mark like the caress of silk. “All right,” she said, a playful note crept into her tone. Much like the nymph herself when hunting the foals during a game of hide and seek. “Here we are, gigglebox. Sitting down together, all nice and cozy, in the midst of your mother’s most beautiful flowers.”

The nymph leaned in again, fluttering her eyelashes. “Do I have to beg now? Or is there a different part two to me getting my gift and hearing you tell whose gave you such trouble? Hmm?”

That tore it.

Either she knew it was her gift, she was tasting all the love and anxiety in Toola and put two and two together, or both. Toola knew that tone, that look in her eyes as she batted her lashes and crooned so sweetly. She knew it all too well.

Then another thought came to mind: Esalen could have gotten Sure Stroke to spill.

She sucked in a sharp breath. Sure Stroke had better not have told Essy about how much trouble her gift was causing me to cover her own tail, or so help me, Celestia …

Toola reached into her right saddlebag pouch with a tumbling hoof and retrieved a pair of wrapped packages—one a rectangular shape about an inch and a half thick and six long, the other a box about six inches tall and four wide.

She tried not to look nervous, but even she knew how her eyes betrayed the worry behind her crooked smile. “Happy Sharers’ Day, Essy,” she mumbled. “Thanks for being such a great friend for all these years. You’ve made living in Respite …” Perfect. “Wonderful.”

“Oh, please,” Esalen replied with a smile, “you’re an amazing filly, Toola.”

Every fiber of her self-control was rallied to beat back the renewed blush threatening to spread across her face. “Thank you. I hope you like them. Honestly—” she bit her lip. There was no going back now. “Honestly, you were the one I was having the most trouble finding gifts for. I wanted to do something a bit different, but … I think I still came up a bit short for what you mean to me.”

There it was. A hint as bright and shining as the sun.

Esalen frowned. “Toola, please. The fact that you think me such a good friend is a gift in and of itself.” Slowly, her lips curved upward—not into that coy, playful smirk she so loved to wear to wheedle things out of her friends, but a genuine smile. The kind Toola could just lose herself in every day. “These,” she said, accepting the packages and nodding toward them, “are just the cherry on top of one of Creamy and Frosty’s sundaes.”

Her piece said, Esalen took the thin package and set the box aside. She unwrapped it carefully, slicing through the tape with a thin whiplike strand of olive magic to make it easier for her hooves to tug it apart. That she could have simply used her fangs was not lost on Toola—rather, it showed something else.

Those gleaming fangs of hers might have damaged whatever was inside, either with their edge or the tiniest drop of venom.

The nymph unwrapped the first package with ease. Her eyes traced over the cover image, a stallion in his mid twenties glared at some unseen foe, his dark amber eyes alight with fury and his mane whipping wildly. The tail of his dark cloak, littered with runic sigils, flapped in the howling wind as he readied to attack, tiny flecks of snow dotted his shoulders. Behind him, the scenery showed the silhouette of the Manehattan skyline shrouded by a thick fog. The title stood within the fog itself, written in pointed silvery script:

“The new Donnchad MacCulkin novel!” Esalen squealed, her eyes lit up as a broad grin spread across her face. She buzzed her wings, looking up at Toola Roola with a look of utmost joy written naked upon her face. “I forgot this was coming out this year!”

Toola ducked her head. “The store owner said it came out a month or so ago,” she said, “and that every store in Manehattan has been selling out nearly as quickly as they’ve put them on the shelves. A lot of ponies have been waiting some time for it.”

“Everyone has! You heard what’s supposed to happen in this one, right?” More buzzing filled her ears. Esalen looked as though she was ready to shapeshift into her favored disguise, in pegasus form rather than her typical unicorn appearance, for the sole purpose of doing backflips through the air.  Why, she was practically vibrating with glee! Her right hoof shot out and snaked around Toola’s shoulder, pulling her into a tight hug with little warning. A squeak escaped the filly’s lips as Esalen nosed against her cheek. “Thank you so much! I can’t wait to read it!”

An airy giggle built up in Toola’s chest, she leaned into her friend’s touch. “You’re welcome. But there’s still another gift for you to open. And …” She bit her lip. She had to say something. Anything to let Esalen know there was more to it. “And there’s something I need to tell you.”

Esalen drew back and tilted her head. She blinked once. “Oh?”

Maybe she didn’t know after all, then. A tiny part of Toola felt pained. “It can wait until after we open gifts.” She nudged the other box toward Esalen. “Open your next one. I hope you like it as much as the book.”

“Of course. How silly of me to forget this one.” Esalen bumped their shoulders together. “And I’ll hold you to that. I expect to hear whatever it is that’s made you taste so rotten today.” Again, an olive glow wreathed her curved black horn. A thin wisp of magic slashed through the tape so her hooves could pull the wrapping paper apart until it yielded its bounty.

A jar of pale blue salve bearing the name Ocean Breeze’s Massage Clinic and Supply written in deep blue cursive upon a sandy brown field greeted her. A sharp intake of breath brought a tiny smile back to Toola’s face.

“It’s supposed to help tightened or strained muscles relax,” she explained. “The clerk gave me a name of the medicine, but I can’t quite remember it. She did say this was supposed to be used during a massage to help everything loosen up and make it less painful to treat minor injuries like muscles spasms, rather than have a pony just put it on themselves like the one it’s made from.”

Esalen nodded slowly, her eyes focused on the label for a couple seconds longer. She set the jar atop the book, then turned to face Toola, her expression unreadable.

Then, her smooth, chitinous forelegs wrapped tight around Toola’s barrel, nearly cracking her ribs and squeezing the very air from her lungs. She felt Esalen’s chin settle into the crook of her neck, warm breath and the tips of her fangs teased her soft magenta coat.

It robbed her of the chance to see the goofy smile that tugged at the corners of Toola’s mouth, slowly spreading across her face as she laid her head against Esalen’s and returned the hug. The little gymnast took a deep breath, savoring the enticing scent of Esalen’s strawberry perfume, soft jasmine, and sweet carnations wafting to her nose. It was just a perfect moment, so much so she wished it could last forever.

They sat there in silence. Toola felt her heart beating in her ears again. The drum cadence picked up in tempo and nearly doubled in volume until she could scarcely hear herself think.

Then a second cadence joined in opposite time. Esalen’s heart.

Toola’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel it. Even through Esalen’s carapace, she could feel it pounding against her chest as though her crush was chasing her during a game of tag. Or perhaps hide and seek or the Hunting Game.

Esalen was either nervous … or excited.

Just like her.

Toola took a deep breath. There was no better time. This was the moment she’d awaited and angst over for ages.

“Essy?” she asked, her voice faltering on the last syllable.

Her crush drew back and fixed her with a quizzical look. “Yes?”

“Can … can you wait a minute to give me mine?”

Esalen blinked. “Why? Is something bothering you?” Her tongue flicked out, then her brows furrowed. “Toola, you taste … odd. Rotten. What’s eating you? If it’s your gifts, I love them, so please don’t tell me it’s that. By love itself, I swear I do.” She cupped Toola’s cheeks in her hooves. Worry flashed across her beautiful features. “Please talk to me. Why does my Toola Roola taste so scared?”

Her Toola Roola.

If only she knew how Toola longed that to be true.

With trembling hooves, she reached up to grasp Esalen’s.  She gently tugged them away from her face, offering a weak smile. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for—” she sucked in a shuddering breath. Don’t get scared now! “For a long time. But I’ve always chickened out right when I thought I was ready.”

“You can tell me anything, Toola. I’m not—”

“Please just let me say it!” Toola cut her off in a rush. “If you start talking, I’ll start thinking, and then I’ll do it again and it’ll be right back to square one!”

Esalen shut her mouth with an audible click of her sharpened teeth. Her brows disappeared beneath her bangs once again. Silently, she waggled her ears to prompt Toola.

The floor was hers.

She swallowed a mouthful of saliva, only then did she notice how dry it felt. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Sort of a third gift I’d like to give you. I’m not sure if you’ll like it or how you’ll even feel about it, but I’ve spent too long worrying. I just … need to. Now.”

Stalling, Toola scolded herself. You’re stalling for time. Just say it! Right now! Stop stalling or you’ll chicken out again!

Pausing to lick her lips, she made to speak, but her throat tightened. Her voice, her very breath caught in the back of her throat. Butterflies fluttered about in her belly, whipped into a tornado-like frenzy of fluttering wings and warmth. Slowly, her ears began to droop.

She couldn’t say it. Even after all this time.

She couldn’t say it.

But she could do something about it.

“I’m sorry. I can’t say it.” Toola cupped Esalen’s cheeks in her hooves. “But I can do this.”

Before Esalen could ask—or, more importantly, before Toola let her nerves fail, she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against her startled crush’s. Soft pony coat teased along those gleaming fangs and smooth chitinous lips, a sensation she’d craved far too long.

Esalen’s eyes shot wider than dinner plates. A hot breath washed over Toola’s face. Then, slowly, her eyelids drooped as she fixed the her with a smoldering, half-lidded look that brought the butterflies back in force. Gentle hooves wrapped around her neck, the nymph tilted her head to the side and, with a deep breath, closed her eyes and deepened the kiss.

The forked tips of her tongue teased and ran along Toola’s lips, drawing a gasp from the back of her throat as she expertly coaxed them apart and slipped it inside. Toola’s eyelids fluttered closed, her tail swished, sending a few tiny pebbles skittering off into the underbrush. She heard the telltale tinkling sound of magic, then their saddlebags and gifts scuffling and shifting along the ground as Esalen deftly maneuvered them off to the side. One of her hooves slid from the back of her neck, trailing up to caress her cheek as she shifted her weight and began to slowly lean forward, guiding Toola to lay down in the middle of her mother’s garden.

A soft sigh escaped Toola’s lips. She felt Esalen’s tongue wrap around her own, alternating between playful prodding, slow sensuous caresses, and eager exploration of every nook and cranny. As if the nymph wished to memorize every inch, every action that brought another sigh, a shudder, or a needy gasp and swish of her colorful, wavy tail.

Minutes crept along like an eternity. But when Esalen broke the kiss, Toola found herself left wanting for more. It was over all too soon.

The pair’s eyes met. Toola squirmed beneath Esalen as those gleaming, glittering eyes entranced her so. The corners of her mouth curved into a goofy, nervous smile.

“You,” Esalen purred slowly, “are in so much trouble, Toola Roola.”

Toola felt her cheeks burn rosy red. “Am I?”

“You have no idea.” The nymph let out a breathy chitter and licked her snout from chin to the tip of her nose, then dotted it with a kiss. “I was going to kiss you first and tell you how I felt after I gave you my gifts. But you just had to steal it, didn’t you?” As Toola fell to muffled giggles, Esalen pecked her lips before trailing a few fluffy kisses to her jawline and licking along her cheek until she could nuzzle beneath her ear. “I think after we’re done with yours, I’ll have to pay you back for robbing me of the chance.”

“W-Will you?”

“Oh, yes!” Though Toola couldn’t see her eyes, she knew they’d taken on that dangerous green glow. She could feel the fanged grin against her mane. “I think I’m owed several kisses. Perhaps with some interest …” Esalen nipped at her ear, drawing a gasp. “A nice, warm bedwrap, I think. In my room, where I can kiss you as much—” another nip “—as I want.” She drew back to fix Toola with a smirk that nearly had her squirming all over again. “How does my Toola Roola like the sound of that?”

Toola could manage little more than something of a cross between an airy giggle and a squeak as she tried to hide a grin behind her hooves. All for naught, even if Esalen hadn’t simply flicked out her tongue and hummed, savoring the taste of her joy and love.

If her face wasn’t split by a grin, Toola would be surprised.

With a dark, chittering chuckle, Esalen sat up straight, her tail swished and brushed against Toola’s as she tossed her mane. “Well, since I’ve been beaten to the proverbial table on our first kiss and confession, I hope you don’t mind if I take the initiative to ask if you’d like to date?” At Toola’s nod, she waggled her ears. “Good! Then we can figure out our first another day. Until then, I have this for you.”

Toola felt the edge of the thing rectangular package poke her cheek. She turned, taking it in hoof as it darted forward to poke her again, and made to open it.

“There are two gifts inside,” Esalen said before she had even begun to tear at the paper. She scooted herself around and hugged Toola from behind, laying her head upon her shoulder as she added, “The first is more a suggestion, if you like it, we can keep it that way. If not, we can figure it out later. The second …” she trailed off. Toola felt her swallow. “I saw it when mom and I snuck out to Manehattan a few weeks back to buy our gifts. It made me think of your eyes.”

Curious, Toola turned her gaze upon the package and shredded the paper without any of her usual grace, nor that of her newly-acquired girlfriend. When all the pesky wrapping paper and tape had fallen away, a white rectangular box stared back at her. An unfamiliar logo with a heart surrounded by three diamonds graced the lid.

She lifted it off to find a folded slip of paper. Toola furrowed her brows as she picked up the paper with her free hoof and opened it with a flick of her wrist. Six words written in neat, flowing cursive—Esalen’s writing—stood alone at the center of the slip.

“It’s a work in progress,” Esalen admitted with a note of sheepishness to her tone. “But I figured it would fit us nicely. We can tinker with it until we actually get it going. Think of this as my promise to make that idea of ours happen.”

Toola turned to nuzzle her nose. “It’s wonderful.” She dotted Esalen’s lips with a kiss, humming as she savored the sensation and taste. Still sweet. “Thank you. This means a lot to know you really want to make your trade with me.”

Black chitinous ears waggled. “I meant what I said, gigglebox. I’d happily open a clinic with you, just like Creamy, Frosty, and Chocolate have their parlor, and how Sweet Treat has Vigil help out at hers.” Playfully, Esalen nipped at her snout. “Now look again. You’re missing out on the other part, you silly filly.”

The other part?

Toola had gotten her kiss, her crush had become her girlfriend, and they’d all but vowed to make their trades one. What else could she possibly want?

Esalen gave a pointed nod toward the box. “Go on,” she commanded gently. “Look.”

With a questioning hum, Toola turned, following her girlfriend’s gaze to the last present awaiting her approval. Her heart skipped a beat.

It was deceptively simple. A black cord just long enough to fit around her neck, with a metal fastener on the back. From a metal chain, a silver backing bore a smooth piece of pink stone the same shade as Esalen’s mane and lovely eyes. At the center of the stone, a hole had been carved out and, within it, a second stone had been set.

A piece of turquoise, just as bright as her own mane. A little piece of Esalen and herself.

Toola covered her mouth. Her eyes blurred as jubilant tears welled and threatened to roll down her cheeks. She turned and planted a kiss on Esalen’s snout that prompted a rolling purr in the back of the nymph’s throat. After holding it a moment, she drew back and licked her nose, fluttering her eyelashes. “Could you—” a squeak in her voice made her bite down on her lip, cursing her treacherous throat. “Could you help me put it on? My hooves aren’t so good with little things like this fastener.”

Esalen’s eyes glimmered, full of tears just like hers. With a slow lick to her nose in turn, she lit her horn again. “Anything for my Toola Roola.”