The cold was vampiric. It had fangs like needles and stole precious life sips at a time. You would think anyone submerged up to their neck in that chilly slurry would be helpless shiver or shake…
But these ponies, the ones in black armor, were not like anyone else. They burrowed deep into a high snow drift and lay like corpses. The ponies probably could’ve fooled a vulture, if only there were any to fool.
Time was a thing of myth out here in the frozen wastes. It could be discerned by the arc of the sun and the slow movements of low hanging clouds, but even those means would be little more than guess work. The gusty quiet reigned up here, though, it was dethroned every so often.
“How much longer, you think,” one soldier asked.
The half a dozen or so bodies shifted momentarily, trying to see who had broken the silence. A stallion at the peak of the snowdrift glanced over one shoulder, his gaze skating over stoney faces.
“Not long, I think,” he said, then looked up to the sun. “I’m guessing it’s nearly ten. We’re only a couple of hours from the city.”
This made the troop shift again. The thought of their blood running hot with murder excited them, mostly because it meant they'd no longer have to wade submissively through the icy cold.
The stallion taking point saw this and hissed. “Easy. We’ve waited this long. Don't go getting restless on me now.”
A different soldier this time, and much closer. “Do you think the charges will work, Silver? The… the snow won’t… you know… mess up the paper?”
Silver, the stallion on point, was beginning to lose patience. He met the darting eyes of the pony who’d asked the question and growled.
“Boy, I know magical system ordinates about as well as you do... but if Tempest says the scroll will work, then it’ll work. Anything beyond that is my concern, not your’s.”
The soldier’s eyes turned away. Silver was glad. Too many questions tended to make him nervous. If there were questions, let them be for the inner circle.
The simple thought of that strange bunch had an almost magnetic effect on Silver. Though his will power alone should’ve welded them in place, the joints in Silver’s neck began to turn like rusty hinges.
While most of the troop were huddled close to preserve some semblance of warmth, two figures laid apart from the group. Their presence was almost as chilling as the snow’s. Silver squinted against the glare cast off the snow, but he was able to make out the mare a yard or so away.
Silver cleared his throat politely. “Tapia, how’s your armor? Snow’s not… snow’s not messing with it?”
Before today, Silver would’ve sworn that being drenched to one’s nethers was the worst kind of cold a pony could feel. Seeing those charcoal colored eyes turn his way made Silver reconsider the notion. The gaze that met his own was as heartless as the chill trying to kill him.
The narrow slit in Tapia’s helm partially revealed a sooty black face. What features were visible were doleful and soft, making up the face of a caring mother instead of a killer. Judging her on looks alone, however, would be a grave mistake for anyone foolish enough to do so. The grin she gave Silver was enough to show her true nature. It was large, wolfish, and fool of teeth.
“How sweet of you to ask,” said Tapia sweetly. “What a good little gentlecolt you are. My armor’s fine, thanks for asking. When the excitement starts, however, I may need a moment to shake the snow loose. Lots of places for it to get packed down. Woe is me.”
Yeah, woe is you, Silver thought. If the poor bastards headed our way are lucky, they’ll be dead before you can even make it down the embankment.
Though the tiny mare was neck deep in the snow, Silver sensed the metal instrument beneath as if it were ill will. He prayed that none of the troops got in Tapia’s way. It was hard enough to bury corpses out amongst the frozen earth when they weren’t cutlets.
On the other side of Tapia sat the furry monstrosity known only as Gnar. There was volumes to be said about Gnar in simply the fact that he was the only one amongst them brave enough to stay so close to Tapia. Silver figured that made sense. The hide of a diamond dog was reputed to be astoundingly resilient.
Gnar threw back his shaggy head, his eyes rolling leisurely back. The cigarette at the corner of his mouth flared as smoke curled lazily from his nostrils.
“Put that out,” Silver hissed at him. “Can’t believe you’d light that shit now of all times.”
It was Tapia, still grinning, who responded. “Leave him be, sweet pea. It’s not like anyone’s going to see a speck of smoke from up here, anyways.”
Silver huffed. “If they don’t see it, then they’ll surely smell it. We’re upwind.”
There came a throaty, gravelly sound. Both Silver and Tapia glanced at the diamond dog. Gnar’s throat bulged and shrank, bulged and shrank. It took a moment for Silver to realize the bastard was laughing.
“Pony’s funny. Angel grass smelly, but other ponies will smell their sweat and musk before grass. Besides-”
Gnar finally looked at them. The whites rimming his beady eyes were bloodshot. As far as Silver knew, they were always like this.
“If there be bloodshed coming, Gnar wants to enjoy it.”
Tapia giggled musically. “Oh, poor Gnar. Can’t get it up without a little smoke.”
There came that guttural laugh from Gnar again. There probably wasn’t another diamond dog in Equestrian that laughed as much as Gnar. Then again, there probably wasn’t another dog that stayed as high on angel grass.
Silver turned away. He hoped neither Tapia nor Gnar saw the nausea in his face. The young buck cuddled next to him looked about as green as Silver felt.
By sun and moon, I can’t believe I’m actually missing Tempest. I’d rather deal with that large ego than these maniacs.
The next half hour passed in blessed silence. Silver was about to check his dented pocket watch for the tenth time when his scout gasped.
“I see something, Sir!” the mare exclaimed, lowering her binoculars. There was high color in her cheeks as passed them to Silver.
“Really? You sure?”
“Look that way, sir. It’s a little hard to see.”
Silver followed the mare’s pointing hoof. He felt a sudden shift of amongst the cluster to his back. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and an electrical current was jumping from one circuit to the next. They wouldn’t waste hours of chilling patience, however. The ponies in black were far too well trained for that.
Silver scanned the horizon, seeing nothing at first. He was getting ready to ask the mare to point it out again when he finally caught sight of something. His eyes widened behind the frosty lenses.
A cloud of billowing dust and snow hung far up along the road. Silver noted that it moved rapidly, like an ivory dust devil. It would be impossible to make out the team pulling the wagon at this distance, but his eyes were sharp enough to pick out the glint of armor.
“Yep, that might be them,” Silver said, almost panting. “That crazy bastard, Shining, is actually making a move… sweet hell.”
Silver glanced around at the troop and hissed, “Everyone stay down, but get ready to move. I’m guessing they’re fifteen minutes out, but I can’t be sure.”
It turned out they were ten minutes out. Soon the scouts could see the moving cloud without the aid of binoculars.
When Silver could hear the sound of many tramping hooves, he reached gingerly into his cloak and withdraw a rolled up piece of parchment. Tugging at the ribbon tying it off, Silver unrolled the scroll before him. There was no fear of the snow dampening the thing. The paper was thick enough to almost be considered clothe.
Seeing the crimson webwork made Silver’s heart flutter. The enchanted ink ebbed like the smouldering coals of an abandoned campfire.
Silver pressed a hoof to the spellworks center. An invisible fish hook skewered his conscience, lifting it up and away from his body.Silver was no longer up high, lying in wait, but instead lying prone by the road.
Wait, Silver urged himself as the carriage drew near. Wait for the second one. Your objective is the second carriage.
Wait he did, though, not without testing his restraint. His nerve endings practically sizzled with arcane energy. It felt to Silver as if he had inhaled dragon fire, and to exhale would turn this frozen waste into a sea of boiling water.
Wait, damn you.
When the first carriage did pass, Silver had to bite down to keep from crying out. The team passed a mere foot or so from his expanded consciousness -really a planted rune much like that on Silver’s scroll.
The dust hadn’t even settled on the road when a distant voice, Silver’s scout, said, “The second carriage is in sight, sir. No more than ten minutes away.”
Too true. Even as the vibrations of hooves subsided, Silver could feel more on their way. Things were moving fast now. It seemed more like seconds before Silver’s head rang with all those galloping hooves. Now there was only mere moments.
“Get ready to move!” Silver commanded, no longer even trying to keep his voice low. It wouldn’t matter even if they were seen. The second carriage had just entered the blast radius.
There came the soft sound of shifting snow as everyone rose. Gnor shook blankets of white powder from his thick pelt. He took a last, long drag from his cigarette before casting it aside. The diamond dog had worked up a nice high. Gnor bent over and pulled a large, rolled up bundle of canvas from the snow. A pair of hilts protruded from one end.
Silver would’ve been glad to miss Tapia as she stood. Snow slid from her black armor, revealing the wicked array of blades jutting from her. They lined the plates on her back like crude porcupine quills. Tapia wiped at the snow packed into the creases of her armor, heedless of the steel claws adorning her armored hooves. She wouldn’t so much as nick herself.
Let my timing be true, Silver pleaded, not sure who he could’ve been praying to. Whoever had been listening, however, granted Silver his request.
When the second carriage fell upen the rune, Silver allowed the bubbling rush of power inside his chest to burst.
“Now!”
Silver’s scream was answered by a thunderclap of flame. For the first time in months, heat gushed across the soldiers’ faces.
****
It was nearing ten o’clock. Three hours of skulking through Ponyville, asking the same questions five dozen times, and Alabaster fearing that his patience might run out.
“I’m sorry, sonny, you’re gonna have to speak up!” The old cogger learned over his cluster of pears, head cocked. “It’s pretty noisy out here today, and my hearin’ ain’t too good.”
The thing atop his head, Alabaster assumed it was supposed to be a mane, looked faker than a tin bit. He had to restrain the urge to flap a wing and send the tuppee sailing.
Alabaster was practically screeching now. “I said I’m looking for my friend! He’s gone missing!”
“Oh, is that so?” The cogger had enough decency to look grieved. “Well, ain’t that a pity. Well maybe I can help ya. What’s he look like?”
Alabaster gave a quick description of Midnight. The line behind him grew longer by the second. Their displeasure danced off his backside like the teeth of so many mites. It made Alabaster clumsy with his words, and at times he had repeat to himself.
When Alabaster mention that his friend’s cutie mark -or lack there of- the cogger’s placating smile grew saddened. “Oh, a younger fella then. Poor colt.”
“No, he’s an adult, old father. Young, but about the same age as me.”
The term ‘old father’ had been an expression of endearment during his early childhood. ‘Old father’ for the chieftain when he was pissed you had chased away the tribe’s chicken, and then ‘old mother’ for the crone you had to help in recompense for the chasing said chickens.
This ‘old father’ saw not the enderement. He thought Alabaster was mocking him.
The cogger’s expression soured and tucked into itself like a raisin. “Ain’t seen nopony like that, and I gots a pretty a good memory for faces. If your friend’s been through the market, he didn’t do so past my stand.”
“Are you sure?” Alabaster asked doubtfully. “Maybe if I run through what he looks like one-”
“Hey! Is this gonna take much longer?” About midway down the line, a rather prim looking mare with a beehive hairdo stood tall on her hind legs. “Some of us have appointments to keep!”
There was a murmur of approval at this. Alabaster glanced back, unwary and uncaring of all the furrowed brows turned his way.
“Come on, is there really no other place you idgets can get pears!?”
More murmuring, but now clearly agitated.
“Best you move along, sonny,” the cogger said, his wrinkled face frowning. “Ya chose a busy time to hold up my line.”
Alabaster’s feathers ruffled irritably, but he resigned himself with a sigh. “Fine. Sorry for the trouble… but you’ll keep an eye out for him? If you see him, you can tell some… somepony at town hall. They know how to get a hold of me.”
Although the cogger nodded, Alabaster could see his reluctance to do so.
Why’s everyone so high in vitamin bitch today?
Alabaster stepped away, grumbling to himself all the while. “Rotten ass lookin’ pears. Hope you give someone food poisoning.”
While this hot day had proceeded in overall disappointment, the benefit afforded to Alabaster was that the mass collection of stalls were affixed with long canopies. The angry stallion trotted aimlessly, but he did so in shade. A few vendors eyed him suspiciously as he passed. These were the ponies he had already spoken to.
Alabaster was pondering the next step of his search party when a voice sliced through the noise of the market.
“Yo, Alabaster!”
Alabaster’s mounting anger was coldcocked at the sound of his name. He glanced about, startled and confused, when he finally saw her.
The stood upright, a foreleg resting on the end of her counter. The lecherous grin she gave Alabaster was all the invitation he needed.
“You’re looking pretty pleased with yourself, grape head,” Alabaster said, approaching the stand. His enthusiasm was only half-forced.
“I’m always pleased when a returning customer comes rolling back around. It gets my coin purse all warm and tingly.”
Berry Punch reached over and plucked one of the many grapes crowding her stall. It was the same livid shade of purple as her coat. Berry munched it, eyeing Alabaster greedily.
“So whatcha in the shop for today, snowflake?”
“A stallion, actually. Long, dark, and surprisingly handsome.”
Berry Punch choked. Alabaster had to hold his stomach to keep from rocking with laughter.
Berry Punch coughed out the half chewed clump of fruit. Alabaster’s chuckles died to giggles as the lump landed with a wet splat at his hooves.
Berry Punch wiping at her muzzle. “Well, well. If that’s what you’re looking for, I have a cousin I can send your way.”
“I’m only playing, Berry… sorta. I’m out looking for a friend.”
“Oh?” Berry Punch’s ears perked up.
“Yeah. You remember me mentioning my roommate, Midnight?”
“You mean the weird one who stares too much?”
“Yeah… that one…”
Alabaster went through the routine again, though, a bit easier than before. As he finished, Berry Punch popped another grape into her mouth.
“That’s indeed some shit,” she said somberly.
Alabaster nodded. This was something else he liked about Berry Punch. As far as Alabaster knew, she was the only pony in Ponyville with a gutter mouth as foul as his own… well, maybe not as foul, but enough to make him feel at ease.
“I’ve been looking for the s.o.b. all morning, but… well, I know he has to be around here somewhere. Town’s not that freakin’ big.”
Berry Punch gave a sympathetic smile. “That’s nice of you to be out here looking.”
Alabaster shrugged. “My other friend has done the same for me more than a few times, so I guess it’s only karma I’m doing it now. If only the little shit storm was more like me. Then all I’d have to do is find which alleyway he passed out in.”
Alabaster sighed harshly. Berry Punch studied him, concerned.
“I’m sorry, Alabaster, I can only guess how hard this can be. Must’ve kept you up last night, because you don’t look like you’ve gotten much sleep.”
“What? No, we found the bastard missing this morning. You’re right, though, I didn’t get much-” Alabaster broke off momentarily in a yawn. “Damn it, you just had to say something. I was doing fine too.”
“Heh, sure you were.” Berry Punch dropped to all fours and raised a hoof to Alabaster’s face. She touched his right cheek.
“The dark circles around your eyes say as much… maybe you should take a break, snowflake.”
Alabaster lifted an eyebrow. “A break? You’re kidding, right? I’ve still-” another yawn. “-ground to cover.”
This was bad. Now that his anger at the pear seller and his stupid customers had dwindled, Alabaster’s wits were starting to grow dull. Anger had always a great motivator for Alabaster. With all that frustration sputtering out, Alabaster started to feel as weary and useless as a damp towel.
“Look… I get it if you feel like you can’t,” Berry Punch said, smiling slowly but kindly. “Just thought a breather might do you some good. You look about halfway to finding your own alleyway to pass out in.”
Then with a smirk, “Might even have a pep talk I can give you to get ya going again.”
Alabaster bit his lip. “This pep talk wouldn’t happen to be in a cup, would it?”
“It might.”
The stallion salivated. He tried to look abashed, but Berry Punch wasn’t convinced for an instant.
“Jeez, Berry, it’s like ten o’clock. Don’t you think that’s a… a little soon?”
“Ha! It’s five o’clock somewhere, snowflake. Besides, if there is anypony in Ponyville who needs a drink more than you, I can’t think of them.”
The stallion grunted. “Ain’t that the truth...”
Alabaster considered her offer for a moment… although, saying he considered it might be giving Alabaster too much credit. The decision was made the moment Alabaster thought about the case of cider he had at the house that might be to drunk alone.
Alabaster knew this would make he feel wretched. Midnight was somewhere out there, maybe hurt, maybe lost. The thought should’ve corralled Alabaster back to his search, but instead it only wetted his thirst.
I’m so tired of think about what’ll happen if I can’t find him, Alabaster thought, then scolded himself for it. No, don’t lay blame on Midnight for your damned needs, pussbag.
At last, Alabaster said, “I don’t suppose a small break will eat too much time.”
Berry Punch gave a small cry excitement. She reared up to lean over the counter, then called to someone back there. The pegasus was thunderstruck when a head popped up beside Berry Punch. The tiny pony had a purple coat a few shades lighter than Berry, but other than that the likeness was undeniable.
“Huh… a berry sized Berry. Go figure.”
Berry Punch cleared her throat. “Alabaster, this is my sister, Pina Colada. I’m stepping out for a bit, Colada. Watch the stand for me?”
The filly beamed madly when she laid eyes on Alabaster. “Really, sis? Remember the last time you stepped out with somepony for a bit? You spent the next day at White Coat’s cli-”
Berry swung at the Pina Colada, nearly taking her head. “You hush your lying mouth!”
Alabaster felt like this was a practice routine. The filly ducked beneath the swipe easily and came up grinning.
“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you, sis!”
Berry Punch sighed. “Just mind the stand, okay? And I better not hear that you’ve jacked the prices again. You leave my signs alone.”
The filly gave Berry Punch a sallut as she and the strange stallion trotted away.
****
A few minutes? Had Alabaster really said that? Had he really believed that? What a bitter joke that was, about as bitter as the wine in his glass.
This would be his sixth glass. Six glasses within ten minutes. Good job, boyo.
Alabaster raised the glass to his nose and breathed deep. The aroma was about as strong and as bitter as the drink itself. Alabaster’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy. The joints in his neck felt like greased ball bearings.
“Does me good to see a pony with good taste.”
Berry Punch sat across from him in a muddy colored armchair. She sloshed the contents of her glass, but kept her gaze on the stallion. Though Alabaster sat in the middle of the sofa, his wings extended out to graze the armrests on either side. Berry Punch thought he looked like a snow angel. That made her giggle.
“Don’t really need taste after a few glasses of this,” Alabaster said.
Alabaster’s words were clear and coherent, despite how clumsy his tongue felt. Berry wouldn’t have known the bloke halfway down a bottle if she hadn’t watched him get there.
I get the feeling this fella could bullshit his way through a drop dead slosher, then completely forget he did so in the morning.
Fixing his somber eyes on Berry Punch, Alabaster took a modest sip of his glass. Amidst the gripping taste of strong wine, he could’ve sworn there was the barest hint of blueberries. He was surprised he could taste that much after all the rum and whiskey in his life
“So.” He smacked his lips. “How long has this one been sitting? It's quite the kicker.”
Berry smirked. “You haven’t had anything yet if you think this is a kicker, snowflake. The berry’s I use only get stronger with time. I’ve got another bottle of this that’s been baking for nearly four years now.”
Alabaster gave a low whistled. “Jeez! While I’m always up for a little alcoholic masochism, that sounds plain suicidal.”
“What are you talking,” Berry Punch laughed. “That shit is going to be ambrosia. Ambrosia straight from Celestia’s tit.”
The pegasus wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know Celestia, and I definitely don’t know if I’d want anything from her tit.”
Berry Punch stared at Alabaster, befuddled. Though her gaped mouth said nothing, Alabaster could clearly see the word ‘what?’ stamped neatly on Berry’s lips.
Alabaster faked a coy smile and fanned himself. “Holy hell, am I buzzed. Uh… how long did you say you aged this bottle for?”
Berry Punch continued staring at Alabaster for a moment longer, when at last the corners of her mouth began to curl. Berry Punch was now howling with laughter. Alabaster joined in after a second, more relieved than anything.
After a minute or so, when she finally had control of her funny bone again, Berry Punch wiped her watery eyes. “Oh, you’re a card, snowflake, an absolute card. Oh, and that’s five months. It doesn't usually get much time to age. Got lots of ponies looking for a good, quick buzz, to know?”
Alabaster shook his head in disbelief. “It’s no wonder your house smells like a distillery, it practically is one! And you said the other bottle has been aging for nearly four years? Damn. That shit will be strong enough to be considered gasoline.”
Berry Punch poked out her lower lip. “Does that mean you don’t want to partake in the uncorking ceremony, then?”
“Fuck no! I’d better get an rsvp!”
Berry laughed. She raised her glass in a toast, which Alabaster returned. Though they both drank deep, it was Alabaster who found himself unable to smile at the occasion. A single thought had murdered all of his good humor:
Boy, how funny would it be to get Midnight to drink some of that stuff?
Alabaster drained the glass. Instead of thinking of poor Little Whisper toiling away under the sun, or even thinking about the missing pony who he had started to consider a friend, Alabaster decided to focus on the warmth spreading in his belly instead. There seemed to be a tangible weight to it. The harder Alabaster focused on it, the deeper it drug him into his seat.
That was where he really wanted to be… sunken deep into a thoughtless void of booze and heat.
“You alright there, snowflake?”
Alabaster’s eyes unrolled like window shades. Berry Punch watched him, her cheeks high with color.
“Sure,” Alabaster lied. “Peachy.”
“Thinking about your friend, aren’t you?” Berry Punch stared down at the remains of her drink guiltily. “Suppose that’s a dumb question, huh?”
“Yes and no,” Alabaster said. “Thought maybe taking five… er… taking a half hour breather might help clear my head, maybe give me a new perspective on this whole ‘search party’ thing…”
Berry Punch peered at him hopefully, but Alabaster only shook his head.
“Got a head full of wasps, but no ideas. Nothing new there.”
“Well, the alcohol doesn't really help.”
Alabaster shook his head a second time. “The condition of my condition hasn't changed since I was a foal, Berry, and booze doesn't change that.”
Berry Punch watched as the sulking stallion slide deeper into himself. It was as if Alabaster was shrinking.
There had been many instances like this the past few weeks, times where Berry Punch felt bubbling with questions for her new friend. Knowing this wasn’t the time, she held them off for the time being. What Berry Punch did ask…
“You know, snowflake, I can keep an ear to the ground at the market, ask around even. It’s a good place to look if you know the flow of the place.”
“I mean… it wouldn't hurt. I've been asking around, but…” Alabaster raised an empty hoof, then let it drop. The gesture said enough.
Berry Punch chuckled sardonically. Alabaster cocked an eyebrow.
“I'm not trying to belittle your efforts, snowflake, because there's just no way for you to know any better.”
“Know what?”
“The flow. You gotta know the flow. The market might look like an overcrowded hodgepodge to the uninitiated, but luckily I am initiated. There's a lot of moving and shaking that goes on down there. Heck, how do you think I sell such strong alcohol when nopony can right now?”
Alabaster had to concede to her that point.
“All of Ponyville trickles down to the marketplace. You just have to know how to ride the rapids.”
“Hmmm.” Alabaster chewed his tongue a moment, enjoy the after taste of Berry’s ‘punch’. “You’d do that? You’d ‘ride the rapids’ for me?”
“Of course! I'm nosy by nature, so it's no trouble.” Berry’s sunny mood demurred as she added, “I’m sure Mi… Midnight? I'm sure Midnight is fine. Funny ponies do funny things sometimes. And you said he didn’t have a cutie mark, right? That’s something that’ll stick in somepony’s mind.”
Alabaster smirked. “He is indeed pretty funny. Maybe you're right…”
Alabaster sighed, then begin to rise. He spread his wings and gave a mighty stretch. Berry Punch marveled at the rippling sheath of muscles beneath his white fur coat.
He’s not jacked like Bull Work or Bulk Biceps, Berry thought. But by the sun’s sinister sister, he ain’t no string bean.
It was no wonder he could hold his drunk.
“I need to get back out there,” Alabaster said. “I appreciate the hospitality, Berry, but I think I've sat on my ass long enough.”
“Don't mention it. It’s nice to have somepony to chew the fat with.”
There was a twinkle in Berry’s eyes as she learned over and picked up the half empty bottle beside her chair. She pointed it at the glass Alabaster had set on the coffee table.
“Maybe a little something to send you off with? Might help the long day ahead of ya feel a tensy bit shorter.”
Alabaster hissed through clamped teeth. “I really shouldn't. I've made enough bad decisions as it is.”
“Heh! Then how bad could one more be, snowflake?”
Alabaster considered this, then damned himself for a fool.
“Fine. One for the road.”
****
Three drinks later…
****
While Berry Punch had come close to guessing Alabaster’s ability to feign sobriety, he wasn’t quite the heavyweight she took him to be. The long weeks of weak beer and apple cider had done little to keep the pegasus’s tolerance in shape. This wasn’t the drunkest Alabaster had been, but it was also a far cry from a buzz. It didn’t help that he had had an empty stomach for the past twelve hours.
Alabaster drifted from Berry Punch’s house, moving almost automatically. While the smell of brewing alcohol would always be a welcome scent, the air outside was deliciously fresh and clean.
Alabaster didn't bother going back to the market, but neither did he head home. Alabaster couldn’t have told you where he was going, although he had a vague idea. There was only one kind of place for a lowly drunkard to sober up… at least, in his opinion.
The smell of strong liquor followed him like a storm cloud. Ponies wrinkled their noses as he passes. A few suspected the ivory pegasus to be the source of the stench, but said nothing. They simply quickened their pace.
Alabaster’s nose might’ve been numb to the smell of the alcohol, but another, more sensual odor wafted by as he turned the corner. It practically caressed his senses.
Holy shit, that smells like fresh bread. Alabaster’s mouth began to salivate.
It was another half block before Alabaster found the odor’s source. While the crystal castle looming over Ponyville remained to be the most ridiculous building Alabaster had ever seen, Sugarcube Corner was certainly a runner up. Still, the sight of it made Alabaster smile. With it’s gingerbread roof and icing shingles, the bakery could have sprang straight from the pages of a fairy tale.
Finding what he had been searching for, Alabaster approached Sugarcube Corner cautiously. It wasn’t the bakery itself he was interested in, however. Even if he possessed an appetite, Alabaster wouldn’t have even thought about tainting the childhood innocence of such a magical place with his drunken ick. It was the alleyway right next to it that Alabaster wanted.
Moving into the shade of the alley was like slipping between cool bed sheets. The farther Alabaster went, the quieter the bustle of the streets got. Soon Ponyville would be little more than a murmur.
Alabaster slunk along its length until he came to a tall brick wall. When he felt sure that he wouldn’t be disturbed, Alabaster made a seat for himself on the cobblestone floor.
In all honesty, this was probably the nicest alley he had rested in. There was little to no litter. This made sense. The front windows to Sugarcube Corner’s neighbor had looked in on a space void of furniture and ripe with dust. The bakery itself kept its trash cans out back.
No graffiti either. Most times you could find out who gave the best blowjobs in a town by checking for names spray painted on those hidden walls. It seemed Ponyville had better ways to pass the time, however.
Alabaster felt no fear in undoing the straps to his saddlebag. He set it beside him and reclining back, using the weathered pack like pillow.
Alabaster was oddly comfortable. Perhaps it was due to the booze, or maybe he was just well experienced at sleeping in alleyways. Alabaster’s white mane flowed around his head like a snowy halo.
“I should be comfortable,” Alabaster murmured, speaking to no one in particular. “Pieces of shit are the most comfortable in the gutter… in the gutter where the belong…”
Though this particular “gutter” was nicer than some of the hotels and inns Alabaster and Whisper had stayed in during the past, that didn’t change the nature of the place. This was where trash went to be forgotten, where bums went to sleep off hangovers, and where dying desires went to perish. This was the bottom of the barrel. Alabaster felt right at home here.
Looking up, there was a sliver of sky barely visible. Alabaster watched a fat cloud shuffle lazily by. His eyes sparkled like flecks of tarnished gold. Watching the cloud helped him ignore the world spinning beneath him. Unfortunately, it didn’t keep out the thoughts spinning around in Alabaster’s head.
Oh, Midnight… where’d you go? I was gonna try and finish the story of Red Molly tonight…
Alabaster scowled. “No, don’t go getting all moopy about this,” he said to himself. “Leave that shit to Wisp. The asshat is probably… probably lost on some kind of day trip. Got adventurous and… and got turned around somewhere…”
Really? Well, I’d be inclined to believe that if Midnight was actually adventurous. That bugger still asks for grilled cheese sandwiches everytime we go out to eat, and only tries something new if he sees you eat it too.
“Yeah? Well…” Alabaster broke off.
Well what? He chewed on his bottom lip.
“Well, you’re drunk, so shut the fuck up.”
There was no answer to this. Things were, for the time being, blessedly quiet. Alabaster closed his eyes and gave himself a wan smile.
“Great job, Al, your both drunk and insane. What a combo.”
Wrapping himself with his wings, Alabaster was asleep in minutes. He had every intention of resuming his search when he awoke, but figured he’d be of better use once he finally had the nightmares lurking in his subconscious. In fact, Alabaster thought he was still in a nightmare when a chorus of screams woke him half an hour later.
The pegasus sat straight up, his eyes blinking blearily. His mane hung limply on either side of his vacant face. “The hell?”
His ears rang with all those terrified voices. A part of Alabaster told him he was drunk with sleep as well alcohol. Would probably be for the best he just laid back over and went back to sleep.
It was the rolling thunder of galloping hooves that convinced him he was awake. A herd of ponies flooded past mouth of the alleyway, they voices raised and terrorfied. Alabaster was getting to his hooves when he heard the blood chilling howl of a wolf.