Ameiliana Tarquinius Cyprianas - 1st of Midwinter, 08 EoH
Retort Family home, West Bloomfield - Equestria
Ameili and Vulcan sat in front of the fireplace, staring intently into the flickering flames. The fire within the hearth was not orange as one might expect, but blue and green. Pale tan flames raged on Vulcan’s side. Dark green flames danced upon Ameili’s side of the hearth.
The flames did not lick upwards from the burning logs in the typical fashion either. Rather, each side’s flames had taken on definitive shapes. Ponies, castles, siege equipment, spells, arrows, and even a green dragon. The conjured shapes obeyed their conjurer’s biding. Puppets fighting a small war with one another up and down the log.
Vulcan grit his intangible teeth and concentrated harder. His forces rallied on their remaining third of log, gathering atop his castle’s front wall. Overhead, a small aerial battle took place within the fireplace's throat. Vulcan's dragon disengaged from its duel with Ameili’s pegasi and swooped down. It dove for Ameili’s champion, talons outstretched, mouth open in a silent roar.
Ameili smirked. Her champion rammed its spear into the log then rolled to the left. Vulcan’s dragon flared its wings, trying to pull up, but it had committed too much to its attack. The dragon plunged into the spear, impaling itself and finishing in a puff of green sparks.
“Aw, come on!” Vulcan wined.
“You need to think before you commit, love,” Ameili smiled as she lay her head on Vulcan’s shoulder.
Ameili’s champion retrieved its spear and resumed its march on the tan castle.
“I can hardly be blamed for being less imaginative than you solid folk,” the elemental grumbled as he nuzzled Ameili’s shoulder.
“It’s been a thousand years. You should have learned by example by now,” Amili conjured a tongue of flame to stick out at her mate.
Vulcan narrowed his eyes as he came up with a new plan. His archers began to fire, not at the champion but at the pegasi his dragon had abandoned.
“Ooh, good call,” Ameili praised, grinning from ear to ear behind her mask.
Vulcan grinned, pleased to have an opportunity to turn their game around. The front door creaked as it opened.
“Hey, guys! Anyone want to play some Settlers of Coltan?” Retort asked even before the door creaked shut.
“Sure!” Ameili smiled. “Let me finish crushing Vulcan at warfare and I’ll happily play.”
“Is Trac back yet?”
Vulcan shook his head. “No.”
“Who was th— Vulcan, duh! Sorry, still not used to hearing you talk yet,” Retort walked into view, still dressed in his winter clothing.
I’m glad our lessons each evening have been paying off. I wonder if he can hear everything Vulcan says yet? Ameili thought as she took advantage of the distraction to fire a few catapults.
He gave the two a worried look before his eyes fell on the fireplace. Retort frowned, his lips pursing before he chuckled.
“I thought you meant you were sparring,” Retort continued watching the miniature battle before him.
“We are,” Ameili and Vulcan said in unison.
Ameili’s champion sprinted up the hill towards Vulcan’s castle while her pegasi occupied his archers. Seeing the glorious charge begin, Retort reached over to his jukebox with a wingtip and flicked it on.
The machine hummed, whirred, and clicked. Vinyl popped and cracked. Vulcan jumped as Iron Filly’s “The Princess” rocked the living room. The elemental looked around the room frantically, searching for the band which had appeared from the blue.
“It’s called a jukebox, Vulcan,” Ameili winked at Vulcan then nodded back towards their game.
“I will never get used to that,” he admitted with a sheepish smile.
Ameili’s champion sprinted up the hill, it’s spear leveled at the wall itself. Vulcan could ignore the champion no longer and directed his archers to fire down at the charging warrior. Their arrows skipped off armor, bit into ground and bone alike, but the charge could not be stopped.
The champion’s spear point struck the wall at its base. The Champion twisted, flexed, and jumped, using the spear to vault over the top of the wall. A sword was drawn in mid-air. Vulcan’s general screamed a silent cry of terror. The sword cut through the air, then through bone.
The fire went out with a dull hiss as if someone had tossed water onto the logs. Ameili tapped her throat to modulate her voice, jumped up onto her rear hooves, and pumped her forelegs in victory.
“Ameili wins! Fatality!” She proclaimed in a deep echoing voice.
Vulcan shot her a dirty look. “I wish you hadn’t picked that up from those bugs’ games.”
“Oh, bite me. it’s fun!” Ameili grinned back before resetting her voice to normal.
Vulcan grumbled something under his breath and curled up in the fireplace to sulk. “I’m eating this log…”
Retort shook his head in amusement and turned the jukebox off. “I guess that’s going to be just you vs me for Coltan then, Ameili?”
“Oh, he’ll play. Go ahead and finished getting undressed. It won't take him long to finish sulking over his most recent loss,” Ameili said as she gave Vulcan a loving kiss on the cheek.
Retort nodded and took a few steps towards the entryway, speaking as he went. “So have you not gotten paid yet?”
Paid? Ameili frowned as she thought back. Oh! Of course. Though, I do find it rather odd a police officer got me a job where I am paid under the table.
“Yes, I have. They have been paying me at the end of each shift. It’s been a while since I had a job. Thank you,” Ameili sat down on the living room couch and began to look around for the table Retort liked to play games on. “I am surprised they agreed to take me on as a part-time worker. Is it normal for Equestrians to employ the ill?”
“No. But you’re working for a fire station,” Retort said as he vanished from view. “That makes you extremely desirable. You should know that.”
I wonder if he’s understood I’m joking with him yet?
“What does that have to do with it?” Ameili asked with a knowing smirk.
“... You’re a pyromancer. You can just put out a fire with your—” Retort trailed off then walked around the corner to stare at Ameili with a blank expression.
Ameili giggled and conjured a flame-smile for her friend.
Retort ducked back into the entryway. “Back to my original point, if you have money why are you two playing with the firewood? I know you both like fire. But why not buy something more interesting to burn?”
“Everything burns in an equally interesting way. It’s not our fault if you can’t perceive their individual beauty,” Vulcan answered. “Besides, there isn’t much to do other than our usual games.”
“Yes. There’s not much to do in town with money other than shop,” Ameili said as she levitated the card table into position in front of the couch.
Retort’s ears drooped, his gut telling him the two were feeling down. Even though that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“We have a game store. You could buy… I don’t know, do you two like roleplaying games? Or trading card games? There’s also a bookshop. I’ve seen you read to Vulcan before.”
Ameili waved a hoof around the living room despite Retort not being present to see her gesture. “We’re still working through your library. You have hundreds of books.”
“And you have many board games,” Vulcan added, the log he had been nibbling on beginning to crumble into ash.
“Okay, fair enough. As long as you two aren't getting bored,” Retort finished as he trotted back into the living room.
Ameili pulled two chairs up to the table with her magic. “Would you like me to contribute something to the household’s funds? That is the reason I asked if you could find me somewhere to work a few days a week in the first place. I have reserved fifty percent of my earnings to share with you as needed.”
Retort shook his head. “No, no. I make plenty. I won't say no if you do want to contribute though. I was only wondering why you wanted a job since you didn’t seem to be spending anything. I mean, I swear you don’t eat anything at all. I hear you use the blender to make food-packs but the grocery budget and meal portion sizes haven’t changed at all.”
Ameili winced beneath her mask. Maybe I should start doing a bit more than just running the blender for a few moments. If I mix a few vegetables together into a paste I can at least make it look like I am eating.
He walked to the bookshelf on which he kept his collection of several dozen board games and took Settlers of Coltan down from its shelf. His lips pursed and wings twitched as another option occurred to him.
“Oh! I remember Trac mentioned you like to tinker. There’s a hardware sto—”
Ameili’s eyes lit up so much their glow became visible as a dim pinprick of light within her welding goggles. “Where is it?!”
Vulcan winced and retreated deeper into the fireplace. “Hon? I’m staying home.”
“Okay!” Ameili jumped up from the couch and ran over to Retort to look him dead in the eyes. “Where is it?!”
Retort blinked and shook his head. “Uh, it’s at Twenty-two Cloud Lane.”
I know where that is! I thought that Silly Beetle’s was a bar. Ameili conjured the largest and brightest smile Retort had seen her make yet. “NOW I have something to spend coin on! I’ll be back in a while, then we can play.”
Retort tilted his head. “They are closed now…”
“I don’t care!”
“You made a huge mistake,” Vulcan chuckled as Ameili ran out of the room.
I haven’t gotten to go to a hardware store since the 12th of Megan fifty years ago! Ameili squeed as she burst into her room. I need to make sure Retort think's I'll be sleeping tonight. Better get my sleeping bag.
A heartbeat passed, during which Ameili picked up her small day-pack, attached her sleeping bag, and slipped the pack onto her back. Five seconds after she had entered her room, Ameili began to sprint towards the front door.
Ameili rushed by the living room door, catching Retort’s attention. His jaw dropped.
“She has a sleeping bag!”
“Last time she camped out in front of the store for a weekend,” Vulcan shook his head. “That’s why I’m staying here with you.”
Retort ran out into the hall, managing to catch up with Ameili as she opened the door. Retort reached out and took hold of her backpack. “Hey! Ameili! They’re going to be closed till five in the morning. It’s nine at night. That’s eight hours from now. Hang out, get some sleep, go in the—”
Ameili slowly turned around to glare into Retort’s eyes, forgetting to conjure a fiery icon. Retort gulped as he saw her leather “mask” warp.
“Let. Me. Go.”
Retort’s police training allowed him to maintain his grip despite the fear filling his gut. “Why is it so important to you?”
Ameili shook her head, her jaw-dropping behind her mask. “W— Why is— Are you bucking kidding me?! There’s a store full of everything you need to create wondrous inventions the likes of which would— You read science fiction. What if a store in town started selling laser-swords? You’d go camp out until lit opened so you could get one!”
Retort frowned and held up his hooves. “That’s not—”
“It is too the same thing!” Ameili stamped her hoof. "I normally live in the woods. I grew up with stone plumbing. STONE! No hot water, no cold water, only outside temperature water. Look around you, this is my science fiction! I can turn a knob and get hot water without having to heat it myself! You have a machine I toss soiled clothing into and it cleans it for you! There are switches you can flip to make light. All without using a single drop of your magic!”
Retort blinked once. “Uh, yeah… But— It’s freezing cold out.”
The mare rolled her eyes beneath her mask. “You’re living in the awesome future times, but completely ignore it because it’s not the space-future times! If you’ll excuse me, I’m going down to the awesome emporium to oggle the devices which cool your ale for you!”
“It’s twenty below! You’ll freeze!” Retort snapped, his eye starting to twitch. “That’s all I am saying!”
Ameili’s elated face transformed back into a glare. “I’m going to get a flashlight and a nice synthetic bristle broom! They will have hacksaws! Very, very soon one of them will be all mine!”
Vulcan walked up to Retort and tapped him on his shoulder, making him look over at the elemental. “Let her go. You won’t win if she decides to make you let go. I’ll play your game with you.”
Retort suddenly became aware of the fact he was restraining a Pyromancer for no good reason. He let go. “W— Well… It’s not loitering to wait for a shop to open… Uh, good luck. Please come back if you get cold. Use a mage gem or public radio to call me if you get too cold. I’ll fly you home.”
Ameili’s anger evaporated the moment Retort’s hoof left her backpack. “Thank you. Back soon!”
I could get a pair of pliers for every room in the house. Every house should be fully stocked with pliers. Oooor… I could overhaul my clockworks like I’ve been wanting too since last decade. Yessss! That’s what I’ll do! Maximum Overdrive setting, here I come! Or, I could build grappling hooks into my forelegs and try swinging around like Spidermare. Or both. Yeah! I’ll do both!
The mare blew her lover a kiss and slipped out the door, closing it behind her. She skipped through the snow drifts, practically walking on air as she made her way down the trail to town.
Tractor Pull - 1st of Midwinter, 08 EoH
West Bloomfield - Equestria
Trac yawned as the train screeched to a stop. He’d had a full day at school after three hours sleep.
Stupid midnight training game…Most people I knew would have fallen asleep in class. Trac yawned again and slipped his coat on. I guess army training is good for something besides serving. Who knew I’d use sleep deprivation training in school?
Trac tugged on his boots and then facehooved. “Anyone who’s actually been to school would know that…” he muttered under his breath.
“Long day?” A mare’s voice asked.
Trac sleepily looked up. A nondescript, middle-aged, unicorn mare with piercing green eyes looked back. She sat in the seat in front of Trac and looked both worried and focused.
“Uh, yeah,” Trac said, his face pulling into a frown. “Why do you ask?”
“You’ve looked dead for the entire ride. I was worried you were on something,” she admitted with a sheepish smile.
No one’s ever talked to me on the train before. Why is she doing it now? Trac frowned. “No, I’m not on anything. I’m just tired. Too tired to have a conversation, I’m afraid.”
The mare nodded. “That’s okay. But I do have something for you. You’re Tractor Pull, right?”
The fur on the back of Trac’s neck stood up in alarm. “Uh, yeah… Is this a call to arms? I thought our gems were supposed to beep.”
The mare shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s a package. I’m with a courier service. This was supposed to be delivered to your home, but I recognized you from the picture. I’ve tried to get your attention a few times, but well, you were just kind of sitting there with glassy eyes. We’re not allowed to deliver to someone under the influence.”
The mare reached into a saddlebag next to her and fished out a small brown-paper-wrapped package, along with a clipboard. She held the clipboard out to Trac. “Sign here, please.”
The Pony Express logo on the paperwork pinned to the board jumped out at Trac enough to pierce his drowsy state.
International mail? What? But, why though?
Trac nodded, took a pen from his coat pocket and quickly scribbled his signature onto the page. “Who's it from?”
“It’s anonymous,” the mare replied. “Sorry, but they don't tell the couriers who send things if they asked to remain anonymous. I couldn’t tell you if I wanted too.”
Trac took the package and hefted it in his hoof for a moment. It’s heavy. And flexible. A book?
“That’s okay. I wasn’t expecting anything is all. Thanks. Uh, you have a nice day,” Trac said as he tucked the package into the duffle bag containing his uniform.
Ew… My uniform got pretty funky this weekend. The bags a bit damp. It’s only got the one pocket… This won't fit into my coat pocket. I hope it won't get damaged by anything soaking through the main compartment.
“I’ll have a great day now that I can stay on the train and loop back to Detrot,” the courier laughed. “No offense but anywhere this north is too cold. Living up here should be illegal under to the Princess’s prohibition on cruel and unusual punishments.”
Trac snorted. “The cold’s not that bad, it’s worse. Thanks again, and bye.”
Trac turned and walked. Well, this mystery woke me up a bit. Kinda weird she took the same train as me. And sat down right next to me. Stranger things have happened though. Like running into an undead Romane mare in the woods next to my house.
Trac made his way to the doors, shuffling along with the dozen or so other ponies who were also getting off at West Bloomfield.
Wait… Stay on and head back to Detrot. That makes no sense. The train stopped here for the night and heads back in the morning. She does hoof delivery, she should know that. Did she rent a sleeper car and sit next to me after recognizing me in the crowd? Because if not she’s going to need a hotel.
Trac turned around to look for the courier. “Ma’am? Y— oh…”
The mare had vanished. The train car wasn’t full enough for her to have switched seats, but Trac had been seated near the front of the car.
I guess she had a sleeper car then. Good.
Trac turned around and stepped off the train. He made it five steps before a familiar voice called out to him and the mystery mare was completely forgotten.
“H— Hey! Over here,” Thunder reared up to poke his waving hoof over the top of the crowd.
Trac frowned then facehooved again. You idiot! You should have slept in class. Thunder asked you to hang out today. It was only algebra. You know algebra.
Trac did his best to shake himself awake and walked over to where his friend was standing. The moment Trac pushed his way through the crowd and caught sight of his tiny friend, his jaw dropped incredulously.
The little stallion had not bundled himself up. Instead, choosing to wear a pair of loose purple shorts and a blue-gray hoodie which while new, matched Trac’s. Or at least it would have if his hadn’t been sky blue when it was new.
The shorts and hoodie let Trac see Thunder’s mane and tail for the first time. Only an idiot took their helmet off while on duty. A tanker’s jumpsuit kept their tail completely covered to keep it from getting dirty or caught in something. Neither Bunker nor Thunder knew Trac's mane color either.
Thunder wasn’t exactly following Guard regulations with his mane and tail’s cut. He was breaking them completely. His bi-color deep purple and royal blue hair was left long, bouncy, and with a slight curl. It went down past his shoulders for his mane, and to just above the ground with his tail. But that’s not what shocked Trac about his friend’s choice of outfit.
Trac stared at Thunder, stock still and eyes wide. “What the buck are you thinking?! It’s twenty below at the least!”
Thunder smiled up at Trac and puffed out his chest. “Pegafloof.”
“I room with a pegasus, that’s not enough when it’s this cold. We need to get you inside!”
“Is he a Songbird or a Falconiform?” Thunder’s left ear dipped down.
Trac blinked. “I uh, I’ve never heard those terms before.” They sound a bit racist, frankly.
Thunder raised an eyebrow. “Really? I guess schools up here don't cover it? Bunker and I are from Detrot. Uh, anyway, there are two kinds of Pegasi. Or at least there were. Waaay back in the day, you had the Songbird tribe and the Falconiform tribe.
“If he’s mostly descended from the Songbird tribe then he’s built for flying at lower altitudes, higher speed, and will be real agile on his wings. I’m a Falconiform. We’re descended from pegasi who lived way up in the mountains. We’re made for the cold, long-distance flights, and have way better eyesight. Oh! And we can hover on thermals, they can’t.”
“Oh,” Trac filed the information away for future use. “How can you tell the difference?”
“Wing shape and color used to be able to do it back, like, a thousand years ago. Now? Uh, stick us in the cold, I guess?” Thunder giggled, flashing Trac a cute smile.
Trac nodded, then shuddered as a gust of wind blew icy torment down the back of his coat. “Well, as long as you’re not going to freeze your balls off. I can’t imagine wearing anything like those shorts right now.”
Thunder bit his lip. “That's… It’s not going to happen. I promise.”
“Alright. So, what were we going to do again? I’ve had a long day.”
Thunder frowned. “That’s right, you go right from the fort to school, don’t you?”
“Mhm.”
“We were going to have a drink!” Thunder smiled and walked over to Trac’s side, standing a bit closer than Trac would have expected him too. “I asked some guys where to go in this town and recommended a bar called the Ponut Palace.”
Trac coughed, choking on his own phlegm. Sisters! Anywhere but there!
Thunder eeped and looked up at him “Uh, are you okay?”
“Y— You— Thunder, that’s the gay bar,” Trac’s cheeks burned as he looked down into his friend’s eyes. “It’s not a stalliony-stallion gay bar either. Or even just a bar gay people go to. It’s the fruity kind, there is at least one Gloryhole, and they rent rooms by the hour.”
“Oh,” Thunder’s ears drooped. “I um… The guys said they have Sex on the— OOOOOHHH!”
The little stallions’ eyes bugged out of his head at his realization.
“Yeah, it’s not the drink,” Trac nodded sagely. “Don’t worry, most places here serve Sex on the Counter.”
“Wait, how do you know?” Thunder smiled playfully.
Trac’s face turned bright red. “I… I had to use the bathroom really bad one time. It was the closest place. I was stuck in there for an hour.”
“In the bathroom?” Thunder asked, raising an eyebrow.
Trac bit his lip and squirmed for a moment, then hung his head. “Yeah… I picked THAT stall and uh… I was too… I thought if I left as soon as the guy uh… Look, I thought I'd have my kneecaps broken or something. That’s how grimy of a place it is. I uh… Kinda um, helped a guy out then ran off. So yeah. I’d like to not remember that, okay?”
Thinking back on it now, I don't think I would have really been hurt, though really seemed like it at the time. Genuinely filthy bar. Strong sex smell. The overly aggressively gay types everywhere… Ugh. I wonder if straight ponies know they creep us out too?
“Oh…” Thunder wrapped a wing around Trac’ shoulders. “Don’t get me wrong, that kinda thing can be fun if you’re in the mood, but um… Did you file a police report?”
“What did I just say?” Trac sighed.
“Sorry! Sorry! Just… I don’t want you to be hurt.”
“This was years ago. I’m fine now,” Trac’s shoulders slumped. “I— Wait, you’d be into that type of thing?”
“Sometimes,” Thunder admitted with a blush. “Why?”
“It's… I thought you were straight. And with Bunker. You two live together on base. Isn’t that a married couples only thing?” Trac asked, tilting his head.
Thunder shook his head. “No, I like everyone. And Bunker and I aren't together. We room together because... They decided to stick us together for convenience.”
“Oh. Well, since that place is out of the question, I know a bar and grill on Cloud Lane that’s pretty good.” It’s also cheap… I can afford a sandwich and a beer there, but not anywhere else.
“Yeah… We can go there,” Thunder said as he looked down into the fresh snow.
“Uh, cool?” Trac tilted his head, shrugged as Thunder didn’t react, and started walking down the road. “Come on. It’s this way.”
Thunder nodded, took a step away from Trac and followed along after him. The two walked in silence. Only the sound of snow crunching beneath another set off hooves let either know the other was there.
At first, Trac thought Thunder was just playing it tough with the cold and chose to stop talking while walking to make the walk go faster. Some ponies felt time went by faster when no one was talking. Retort was one of them.
But every time Trac glanced down at Thunder, the little stallions looked perfectly warm. No shivering, no blueness, no sniffles. He was fine. Physically at least. Thunder’s eyes looked distant, his face held a pained expression Trac knew all too well.
The two stallions rounded the corner onto Cloud Lane, and Thunder sighed. Trac winced in response.
What did I do? Why is this so awkward all of a sudden? I haven’t done friendship stuff in forever… I probably bucked up. I hope something happens to distract us from—
Trac’s train of thought derailed as he saw the unmistakable white with an orange stripe of Ameili’s jammed against the glass door of a random storefront.
“OH, BUCK!” Trac’s ears stood up enough to dent his hat and hood outwards. What is she doing in town?! What if someone sees her and panics?
Thunder looked up, eyes wide with alarm only to grow even wider. “Holy— Don’t breathe! Wait, ask what was used first. Maybe we can run before—”
Trac put a hoof on Thunder’s head. “No, no it’s fine. I recognize her. That’s a bio-hazard suit, not a chemical suit.”
Thunder pursed his lips and looked up at Trac. “That’s just as bad if not worse.”
“Normally, yeah. But that’s Ameili. She’s living with Retort and I for a while. I was too sleepy to remember she’s stuck in that suit is all,” Trac shrugged. “Sorry for pranking you. It’s fine. She’s in that thing to keep everyone else safe.”
Thunder tilted his head as the wheels in his head began to spin. “She’s got a very contagious disease? That sucks— Wait, you’ve mentioned her before. Is that the mare who taught you to drive like A.J. Trot?”
Trac raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“Oh uh… A race car driver. My dad’s really into— Skip it. Why is she making out with a hardware store?” Thunder asked as he watched Ameili nuzzle the doors.
“I… Do not know. Come on,” Trac nodded and crossed the street.
Thunder followed along behind him, more than a little intrigued by the weirdo in a bio-suit.
Trac jogged up to Ameili, stopped behind her, and cleared his throat. “Hey, Ameili, you know I let you stay with us so you wouldn’t be out in the cold like this, right?”
Ameili didn't turn around, instead, she continued to stare longingly into the store. Normally her voice carried her emotions perfectly. But after an hour of her rubbing its controls against the glass, her voice had been scrambled into something almost entirely robotic.
“Oh! Hi, Trac. I’ll go home shortly after they open. Don’t mind me.”
“Is something wrong?” Trac asked with a frown, mistaking pleasure for worry due to Ameili’s vocoder.
Thunder blinked and took a step back. “Woah… What do you have that makes you sound like that?!”
“Sound like what?” Ameili asked, continuing to look into the store.
“Your vocoder is scrambled. I’m guessing because you’ve been dry humping that door,” Trac said doing his best to maintain a blank face.
“DON’T JUDGE ME!” Ameili snapped, turning her head to flash Trac a judgmental glare. “I can’t exactly just go to a bar and pick up stallions, now can I!? If I can get my thrills from anticipating building things, that’s my business!”
Trac’s ears drooped. “I— I didn’t mean it like that. Wait, were you actually dry humping the door? I was joking…”
“Uh, maybe?” Ameili admitted, conjuring a fiery blush as she reset her voice box. “I don’t know. I might have? I REALLY like to build things, and it’s a FULL hardware store! I thought it would be a little place where locals can buy bolts and screws, but it’s not! It’s got EVERYTHING!”
Ameili bounced up and down for a moment before giving Trac a hug. “I’ve got everything planned out! But next time I’m paid I can make little model tanks to help illustrate our lessons better and— Oh! Someone else said something—” Ameili spun around and waved a hoof at Thunder. “— Hello! My name is Ameiliana Tarquinius Cyprianas, I’m Trac’s roommate. I’m normally not this excitable, but that’s because I didn’t know there was a hardware store here.”
Ameili paused and turned back to Trac, rearing up to stare into his eyes. “Trac. Why didn’t you tell me there was a hardware store?”
Trac held up his hooves defensively. “Woah! Easy! I didn’t know it meant this much to you! I also assumed you would just, you know, KNOW we had one. Every town in Equestria has at least one Silly Beetle. It’s a huge hardware store franchise. Besides, I didn’t even know you had money… Wait, did you say ‘get paid’?”
Ameili nodded eagerly. “Yeah! I hadn’t mentioned it to you yet. I wanted to surprise you with something nice. Retort found me a part-time job working with your fire department.”
Thunder tilted his head. “You’re a firefighter? But only part-time? How’s that work?”
“I’m dying. They don’t want to work me very hard,” Ameili answered. “But they wouldn’t say no to a pyromancer offering their services.”
Thunder nodded once. “Seems legi— Dying?” His eyes popped out of his head. “I uh, I can’t catch it, can I? What you have?”
Ameili shook her head. “No, of course not. Its spread by body fluid contact and I am in a fully sealed suit.”
“I had the same exact fear when I met her,” Trac smiled and gave Thunder a sympathetic nod. “Trust me, if she could spread it, I’d be a pile of rotting flesh and bones by now.”
Thunder winced. “So you’ve got like, super leprosy?”
Ameili nodded. “Effectively. There was a wizard, he was a real jerk,” Ameili conjured a fiery frown as she realized Thunder was wearing a pair of shorts and a hoodie. “Speaking of jerks, who stole your coat? Would you like them to be on fire?”
“Oh, I’m a Falconiform pegasus,” Thunder sighed slightly, always annoyed to have to explain himself.
Ameili’s frown morphed into a smile. “Hey! It’s been a long time since I met one of your tribe. I don’t remember any of you having bright colors. You look extra cute for it. ”
Thunder smiled. “Thanks!”
Ameili turned her head back towards Trac, then proceed to look back and forth between the two for a moment. When that moment was over she conjured a pair of surprised looking eyes in front of her goggles. “Huh. That was fast. Congratulations, you two!”
“What?” Trac frowned.
“Yeah, what?” Thunder asked as well.
“Are you two not on a date?” Ameili asked, her burning smile turning back into a frown.
“Oh, no. Thunder invited me to hang out and have a drink,” Trac said with a half smile.
Thunder shrank back and stared at the ground.
Ameili watched Thunder’s reaction and facehooved. “No, Trac. No, he didn’t.”
Trac frowned and looked over to Thunder. “Yes, he d… Y— You did, right? I mean, soldiers go to bars and stuff…”
Thunder blushed bright pink and shuffled his hooves in the snow. “N— No…”
Trac’s frown deepened. “Then—”
Ameili rolled a pair of flaming eyes and baped Trac on the nose. “Date. He asked you on a date. You should go on it. He’s cute. If I had the parts still, I’d take him out since you’re being a big dope about it.”
Trac froze, staring off into the distance in a half-panic.
Thunder’s ears drooped. “I— I’m sorry… I thought since you said yes you were into guys. I didn’t think you thought Bunker and I were a couple. I’m sorry! I hate asking straight guys out. I promise it hurts me more than it discomforts you!”
Ameili waved a hoof in front of Trac’s eyes. Trac didn’t even blink. Realizing she had to take initiative, Ameili knelt down to get on Thunder’s eye level and gave him a quick hug.
“It’s okay. He likes stallions. I’ve been doing my best to help him get over some past trauma. Trac here never got over his last coltfriend’s death. It was over a decade ago. He’s probably… Well, having flashbacks.”
“After a decade?” Thunder asked, raising an eyebrow. “What the hay happened?”
“Griffons… Griffons happened,” Trac muttered.
Thunder flinched. “Oh… So, PTSD. That would explain your entire personality.”
Trac’s eyes narrowed. “If you thought I was a shell-shocked mess, why did you ask me out?”
“I shouldn’t have!” Thunder grumbled. “You had one awesome day of being this cool, smart, skilled, happy guy. I should have waited to see if that stuck. I mean, it kinda did. For the weekend. But like—”
“He obviously thinks you’re hot,” Ameili summarized.
“Y— Yeah. I do,” Thunder nodded. “And suddenly you were also awesome! So I asked because well, you can’t live alone! Um, well, some people can. But I can’t. And I have terrible luck with mares.”
“Because they don’t like submissive guys?” Trac asked.
“No, because that’s what they expect me to be and I weird them out,” Thunder admitted, shuffling one hoof against the sidewalk. “I— I can’t help being tiny and cute.”
“Well, you’re also kinda girly,” Trac said, blushing lightly. “You and Bunker have this cute femmcolt/butchmare dynamic. That’s another reason I thought you two were a thing.”
Thunder humphed and turned around, indignantly fluttering his wings. “I also can't help that! Brain chemistry dictates our behavior to a larger degree than most people will ever be comfortable admitting. I don’t make testosterone. Haven't since I was fourteen. I just don't act that guyish most of the time. It’s not my fault!”
“I never said it was?” Trac knelt down to get on Thunder’s eye level. “Bir— M— My ex was like you. But less so. That’s not a thing which would bother me. Sorry for putting you on the spot like that.”
Thunder reached up and wrapped Trac in a tight but quick hug. He immediately let go. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do… We’re not there yet. At the hugs. Hugging. Stuff…”
Trac cleared his throat and stood back up, flashing Ameili a look which begged for help.
Ameili tapped a hoof to her chin in thought. “Not to ruin the moment, but may I ask you a question, short pony whose name I don’t know?”
“I’m Thunder Charge.”
Ameili giggled. “I’m sorry. That’s a very mismatched name given what I can see of who you are.
Aren't Equestrian names normally representative of their talent or personality?”
“Yeah, we normally change them when we get our special talent or move out of our parents' house. You know, to something that’s more fitting,” Thunder smiled, grateful for the distraction. “I um, my dad always wanted the perfect manly soldier for a son. I can’t be that for him, so I kept the name he gave me. Fortunately, he has Bunker for the perfect manly soldier as a daughter.”
Trac’s eyes popped out of his head. “OH SISTERS! You guys are siblings?! No wonder you went quiet when I said I thought you were a couple!”
Thunder snickered. “We’re not siblings. We’re BBFs. Grew up next to each other. Her dad ran out on her when she was eight. My dad decided to be her dad and took over raising her. Not like, legally. He would just go over and do dad stuff with her if he wasn’t with me.”
Ameili raised a fiery eyebrow. “Are you arguing that you can’t act masculine for your father when a mare can do it?”
“Bunker’s not a normal mare,” Thunder said scratching the back of his head as he smiled sheepishly. “Also dad’s not a normal dad. He like… Uh… Well… Trac, you’ve actually met my dad.”
Trac frowned. “I have, when?”
“Basic training.” Thunder coughed. “My dad’s Sergeant Mustang.”
“No!” Trac’s eyes widened.
“Mhm.”
Trac’s eyes glazed over.
Trac squirmed beneath his bunk’s extra itchy woolen blanket. He hadn’t been able to sleep all night. It’s like this stupid blanket is made from equal parts itching powder and wool! How late is it?
The dingy Quonset hut had but two windows and they were in the Sargent’s office. One looked out into the world, and the other looked from the office into the barracks. Trac groaned as the crack of dawn shone into the Sergeant's office.
Oh great… I’ve been up all night! What will I—
Sergeant Mustang sat bolt upright in bed. The movement was explosive. One moment he had been invisible behind the window, the next he was sitting up, gray eyes narrowed, focused, and ready to go.
“AAA!” Trac’s ears lay flat. Celestia’s Cake Fetish! What does he think basic is? A horror movie?
The massive pegasus grunted once, reached out of Trac’s view, opened a cooler, and retrieved a carton of boiled eggs.
Trac watched in fascinated horror as the Sergeant proceed to eat two dozen boiled eggs. Which he washed down with an entire bottle of what smelled like paint thinner. The very moment the bottle was empty, he stood up, lit up a cigar, and stomped out of his office. Fully dressed in a pristine uniform.
Trac jumped out of bed, his hooves striking the ground with an audible crack. Sergeant Mustang looked over. Trac saluted. “S— Sir!”
Mustang smiled. “I like your gumption, private! Only a sissy gets up any later than this. Well, a sissy or my boy. But he’s got special permission the rest of these lily-livered pimpernels don’t!”
“Y— Yessir!” Trac said, his hoof still raised in salute.
Mustang looked Trac up and down then nodded. “Farmcolt, eh? You’ve got the muscle someone would need to give me a hand. I need a spotter for my morning exercise. I work out, you watch for the Commander. Understood?”
Trac saluted again. “Sir, yes. Sir!”
A ten-minute run brought Trac and Mustang to the main headquarters parking lot. Mustang led Trac to the Commander’s personal truck and lay down behind it.
“Remember, private. If you see the Commander, you holler real good,” Mustang said as he slid under the truck.
“S— Sir?” Trac winced. “I don’t think you should be—”
“There isn’t a heavier vehicle on base that’s not essential to national security, boy. Besides, they won't let me in the gym anymore. Now I’m going to squeeze in three hundred reps before he wakes up. If we have time I expect you to do five!” Mustang braced his hooves against the truck’s rear axle and pushed upwards.
The truck creaked. Its suspension groaned. Rubber scraped against pavement. The rear end of the truck began to rise.
Up and up it went. Down and down went Trac’s terrified jaw. Mustang’s forelegs reached their maximum extension. He grunted and began to push the truck up even further by extending his wings.
“ONE!” Mustang announced as the truck reached its apex.
“His standards of fitness were so unrealistic…” Trac whimpered, staring off into the distance. At least I made it to four.
“Yeah, and Bunker meets them,” Thunder nodded.
“S— Sisters…”
“You probably know my mom too. Like, at least on sight. Our last tank was named after her.”
“You’re THE Spitfire’s kid?” Trac’s jaw dropped.
“Yeah.” Thunder smiled and looked up at Trac. “Most ponies don't guess it because I've only got her fur color.”
“And you’re driving tanks?!”
“I wanted dad to be proud of me, okay? The Air Guard would have been easy for me.”
Trac coughed then nodded. “Fair point. He hates easy.”
“Exactly!” Thunder looked up into the sky and smiled. “My special talent is making lightning. I’m a great flier. At least as good as mom. But as a tank gunner? I had no ‘Cheats’ as dad would say. I made it through on my own, skill only. I think he’s finally proud of me.”
Trac pursed his lips for a moment. Should I tell— Of course I should!
“Actually, I spotted him during his morning workouts every day I was in basic. We talked a lot. He’s always been proud of you.”
“Pfff, bull,” Thunder dismissed. “I had to earn this.”
“I mean it! He told me, and I quote, ‘My boy beat the toughest enemy there is. He's got nothing left to prove to anyone and a license to do as he wishes’. Never said what that enemy was though.” Trac shrugged. “Though I guess you know.”
Thunder tilted his head. “You're not lying to me, are you?”
Trac shook his head. “No. Why would I?”
“To try and flatter me so you get laid on the first date?”
“I thought we weren't having a date?” Trac coughed awkwardly. “I mean, we had the whole misunderstanding and never really resolved it.”
“IT’S A DATE!” Thunder and Ameili chorused together.
Thunder looked up at Ameili. “Bop his nose for me again, would you?”
“Sure,” Ameili gave Trac another gentle bap on the nose. “Let the nice colt take you out. You need it. Heck, if Birch were here he’d tell you to go for it. Go have fun! Go home and weird Retort out by having sex against the wall bordering his room. It will be fun!”
Thunder reached up to bap Ameili on her respirator. “You don’t do that on the first date, it’s trashy!”
“I know it is. That’s why you go to two bars on the same night. Then it’s the second date,” Ameili conjured her grin higher than normal to avoid burning Thunder’s hoof.
Trac closed his eyes for a long moment. Would he want me to move on?
Trac cringed, his stomach pulling inwards as he worked out exactly what Birch would have done to him over the last twelve years. He’d literally beat the shit out of me for acting like I have been. I’ve been living the exact opposite of how he’d want in his name. That’s— There's no worse way to insult someone you love.
Celestia… They say you’re not a goddess, and you don’t really hear prayers, but for the love of you, please make sure he knows I’m sorry!
Trac reached down and gently nudged Thunder’s side. “It’s a date. Come on, let’s go get some breadsticks and get you your girly drink.”
Thunder blushed a bight pink and nodded happily.
“Excellent!” Ameili turned back around and pressed her nose back to the store’s glass. “I’ll get back to my own.”
Thunder blinked. “Uh… Is this actually your fetish? Like, were you not joking?”
Ameili sighed wistfully and turned to Thunder with a smile. She waved a hoof at the window. “Would you look at all that stuff?”
Thunder’s ears drooped. “Uh… okay?”
He peered into the window. A second later Trac joined him.
“What are we looking at?” Trac asked.
Ameili turned to look at her friend desperate to be understood. “Everything you need to build anything you wish. Potential. Raw potential. An entire civilization with treasures unimaginable to my people could be constructed using only the supplies of this singular store. It’s the ultimate triumph of civilization. How can you not see it’s beauty?!”
Trac frowned, then smiled as it came to him. She’s a thousand years old. She lived back when if you wanted a fire you had to burn your own manna, and therefore eat more that day. Or light a candle. She’s also only able to perform magic from the pyromantic school. Technology must be the real magic from her perspective.
“I get it,” Trac said with a polite nod.
“I don’t get it,” Thunder said pressing his nose closer to the window. “What am I missing?”
Ameili picked the little stallion up. The strain of lifting an entire pony made all four of her clockwork legs whine and grind as she slowly panned Thunder’s face across the storefront. “You’re missing everything!”
“H— How drunk are you?” Thunder asked with a timid yet nervous smile.
Ameili sighed and set him down, her clockworks ceasing their protest the moment the weight left them. “I’m sober. I can’t drink anymore.”
Thunder opened his mouth to object, but Trac leaned down and whispered in his ear. “She’s basically a skeleton under that. It’s best not to talk about food around her. She misses not having stuff just pumped into her belly.”
“OH!” Thunder cringed. “I am so sorry! I had cancer once. I know that can’t be as bad as something necrotic but, I get it. I know what being so sick you can’t handle anything is like. I’m sorry. If this is what you can do that makes you happy, I’m a jerk for questioning it. Do you forgive me?”
Trac’s eyes widened. Cancer? That’s definitely one heck of an opponent. I’d be proud of my kid for beating it.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Ameili laughed. “But I do need to plan out my route. I’ll spend days in there if I don't have a game plan for when they open.”
“Um… I guess I’ll check on you if you're not back when I wake up,” Trac decided as he gently nudged Thunder’s shoulder. “Come on. If we wait too much longer we won't have time for a drink before they close.”
“Oh! Right, we we’re going for a drink. I thought we were walking now,” Thunder grinned sheepishly.
“Maybe you’d like that, but I’d freeze to death if I stayed out here too long.”
“Even in that coat?”
“Even in this coat. Come on.”
The two walked down the street, leaving Ameili behind. The night was mostly over, but the two had a wonderful end to their night. After ensuring a slightly tipsy Thunder was warmly bundled up on the living room couch, Trac went to bed with a genuine smile on his face for the first time in over a decade.
That smile wouldn’t have been there if he had not forgotten about the package sequestered in his duffle bag's never-used pocket.
Sweet Stuff - 2nd of Midwinter, 08 EoH
Silly Beetle’s Hardware Emporium - Equestria
The first light of the morning sun shone down upon the glass storefront. The brilliant rays transformed each sheet of glass into a wall of light. To Sweet Stuff’s eyes, the glass truly held an otherworldly quality. The glass warped and pulsed. The light within them shifted colors exactly as one would expect the lights of a flying saucer to behave.
The fact that Sweet Stuff was still under the influence was a testament to the quality of the acid she had dropped sixteen hours ago. The fact she wasn’t running away from the white and orange alien robot while screaming and flailing her hooves was a testament to Sweet Stuff herself.
“Can I like, help you?” The wide-eyed manager asked. “We don't sell spaceship parts.” What’s an alien want with like, pony stuff?
The alien turned around. It’s fiery eyes literally burning with delight as it saw Sweet’s name tag. “Yes! Yes, you can. My name is Ameiliana Tarquinius Cyprianas. I would like to browse your wares and purchase a selection of items.”
Sweet nodded twice. “To like, learn about our technology and practical magic, and stuff?”
“Yeah! You get it. I wish more people did too,” Ameili agreed with a nod.
Sweet trotted up to the doors and poked her key at them, managing to get them unlocked on the fifth try. “Lock’s moving man…” She grumbled before pushing the doors open. “Come on in. Just take whatever you want. It’s on the house.”
Ameili gasped, her jaw hung agape. “R— really?!”
“Yeah,” Sweet said with a nod. I’m not gonna argue with an alien robot. It’ll melt me with its heat vision… Man, I could go for some water. I’m super dehydrated. Did I take E at the rave too? WOAH! The ceiling is made of blue!
Fortunately for Sweet, her impaired mind was so focused on her own thoughts she didn’t hear the truly disturbing sound of manic laughter as processed by a vocoder. Laughter which continued as Ameili proceed to grab six shopping carts and run through the store like a filly on Hearthswarming.
Fortunately for Ameili, Sweet's acid didn't wear off until she was halfway home with her new treasures, and no one believed Sweet when she said they were robbed by an alien robot.