//------------------------------// // A letter for Soarin // Story: Nyctophobia // by Valorousspectre //------------------------------// Chapter one: A letter for Soarin. “Can I get this letter delivered?” The bone white Pegasus standing at Ponyville post office was obviously uncomfortable and, despite it being a warm day, wore a scarf around her neck that travelled up to her mouth, a cape that hid the majority of her body and a broad brimmed hat that was tilted over her eyes. The mare she was talking to was grey, nice enough, but had very strange eyes that didn’t face the same direction. “Sure! I’ll just need a bit and I can deliver it for you!” Skeleton Grin almost smiled and she rummaged around in a small bag she’d brought just for this occasion. This is it. This is the day she finally sent that damned letter to him. She paid the mare, who immediately took flight, almost forgetting about the letter. “Woops! Don’t want to forget this!” She picked it up and smiled in a ditzy manner. “So who’s it too? I can’t read very well, my eyes don’t work too good in focusing!” Skeleton Grin gulped and tried to speak confidently. “Just, give it to one of the Wonderbolts, they’ll know who it’s for...” “Oooookay!!” With that, the Ditzy mare flew off, dropping a letter as she did so. Grin sighed. “Well... that’s that. No turning back now Grin, I hope you know what you’re doing.” She looked around to make sure nopony had seen her, and scampered away, only being noticed by a lavender unicorn who, upon second glance, decided her mind had played tricks on her. ~*~ In Cloudsdale, a certain blue Wonderbolt was trying desperately to relax. It was strange. Whenever he had a show, or a race, or anything in front of a large crowd, he always felt his most confident before and during the event, then virtually collapsed afterwards. He couldn’t let the others see though. Celestia forbid that ever happened. He reached for his crystal goblet of apple schnapps. Another bad habit Soarin. You’re going to end up with a gut if you keep this up. Not that he cared so much at the moment. His most recent marefriend, a young model, had ditched him, claiming him to be “boring and self centred”. That was after he’d spent all his bits on her. He hadn’t had a good apple pie in weeks. His flight suit lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. He really should wash it, but it was secondary to him at the moment. Dammit, what I wouldn’t give for alone time. Almost as though on cue, his thoughts were interrupted by a VERY loud knock on his door, followed by a soft “pomph” as the cloud collapsed in on itself. He swung himself around to behold Firestreak in his doorway, looking very sheepish. “Whoah, Soarin I am so sorry. I didn’t realise that your architecture was so fragile!” Soarin simply sighed and gestured for the stallion to enter, which he did. “What is it Fire? Can’t you see I’m occupied?” “Occupied? Soar, you’re drinking Apple Schnapps.” “Precisely. What is it?” Firestreak shook his head and shrugged. “Whatever Soar. You’ve got a letter. Delivered by some mare with weird eyes. Kinda cute she was.” He held out the letter, which Soarin took and looked at curiously. It was rolled up, like a scroll and, when he tilted it, a black rose bud fell out from the empty space. Firestreak looked at it curiously as Soarin picked it up and looked at it. It was a pretty thing, a deep velvety black and the thorns had been neatly and expertly trimmed off of it. “Wow Soar, looks like you have an admirer. Another one anyway.” “Yeah... but none of them have sent me a black rose bud before...” He looked at the scroll and was taken aback by the care that had been taken in rolling it up perfectly, the velvety black ribbon used to keep it closed beautifully tied in a bow. He carefully pulled the knot loose and the unrolled the letter. His eyes widened as he read. Firestreak looked curious. “Well, what does it say Soar?” Soarin smiled and read out loud. “To Soarin I’m not very good at this, so I’ll try to keep it short, and not waste your time. I’ve watched your practice sessions for a while now, I’m sorry if that’s creepy... but I simply don’t have the bits to attend any shows. I wanted you to know that I think I’m in love with you... Not that you’d really find that difficult to imagine. I mean, you probably have millions of letters saying the same thing every day. My love for you is like that rose bud. It’s beautiful on its’ own already, but given time, love and care, it can blossom into something even more beautiful. With love...” Firestreak waited impatiently. “With love... who?” Soarin looked up. “it doesn’t say, all it has is a picture of a kinda creepy smiley face. Check it.” Soarin showed Firestreak the letter, revealing spidery handwriting and a small grin under the last two words. The teeth in it were pointed and its’ eyes were coloured black. Firestreak clucked his tongue in annoyance. “Huh, well that’s annoying.” “What?” “Well, without a name, you can’t track your little admirer down.” Soarin pondered that for a moment. “Well, perhaps she doesn’t want to be found because she’s afraid that I’ll reject her?” “That’s plausible.” Soarin and Firestreak both nodded thoughtfully. It was the only thing they could think of that was potentially true. There was a long moment of silence before Firestreak grinned. “Wonder if she’s sexy?” Soarin looked at him incredulously. “Fire! Is that all you can think of right now?” The white stallion nodded. “Pretty much. I mean come on; if she’s got writing like that she’s probably high born, upper class. And they’re normally hot!” Soarin smiled wryly and looked at his Apple Schnapps. He found he suddenly didn’t want it and turned back to Firestreak. “Not one word to Spitfire.” “Agreed.” “Not one word about what colts?” The two stallions looked over at the doorway in shock to reveal a very amused looking Spitfire looking in on them. “C-C-C-Captain! We uh, That is...” Soarin and FIrestreak spluttered, to the amusement of Spitfire, who walked over to Firestreak, pushed him into a couch and proceeded to sit beside him, cuddling him close and kissing his cheek. The two had been going out for a month or two now, and Spitfire seemed much more relaxed. “Come on Firestreak, you can tell me... What’s with the black rose bud in Soarins’ hoof?” Soarin looked at the rose bud he didn’t realise he was still holding and threw it onto his desk, where it landed besides the semi-curled scroll. This is going to be fun... ~*~ It was dark, but that’s the way she liked it. Dark, scary and dangerous. As dangerous as clouds can be. She was back in the dilapidated old house made of storm clouds. The clouds did nothing to keep out the cold, so she was still wearing her scarf and cape. Skeleton Grin shivered as a breeze infiltrated under her cape. Why is it cold tonight of all nights? It had been hours since she’d sent the letter. She was expecting no reply at all, but she was hoping for one in maybe a week. She couldn’t get him off her mind. Celestia, please, give this pony one wish? Just one? Skeleton Grin looked to the heavens sadly, a tear falling from her eyes, still covered by a hat. If you won’t let me have my chance with my love, please, give me a place where I’m accepted... So I can at least live with others. It had been so long since she’d slept in a real bed that she hadn’t made, it was scary. And not the kind of scary she liked. Her cutie mark was still covered by her cape. What she did, she did the best and she enjoyed, but others were not so forgiving, and her strange appearance made her tolerated at best. She fell asleep shivering. ~*~ Soarin was writing a note. At five past midnight. By the light of a single candle. A half eaten pie sat on the desk next to him and Firestreak and Spitfire were on his bed, sweaty and asleep. On a cold night like this, Soarin KNEW what had made them so sweaty. But he didn’t mind. He preferred his couch anyway. What do I say!? It’s been so long, and that was so touching... Nothing like the other letters, proclaiming their everlasting love to me and how much they adore me. No, this was much more personal. Much less... fanfilly-ish and more mature. I haven’t sent a letter in- He cut off the train of thought and smiled softly. Ah, Soarin. You old romantic you. He began his letter, his writing not as spidery, but no less graceful. He may not have written one of these in a while, but he knew how to write. “To my most sincere admirer. I thank you most graciously for the beautiful rose, it is sitting at the head of my desk where I can gaze upon its’ beauty each and every day and make sure it stays alive and blooming. I’m sad that you have not given me a name upon which to call you, it makes it difficult to send a reply. I’m afraid I have no gift suitable as a return gift. Obviously I cannot send you pie, that is too material and disappears too quickly. I cannot give you a rose, as it would seem unoriginal. And so, in a fit of desperation, I send you all I can and beg of you your name. Sincerely; Soarin” As an extra flair for authenticity, he not only wrote his name, but signed the parchment as well. Taking extreme care, he cut a lock of his mane and put it within the scroll, which he rolled up tightly and secured with a royal blue ribbon. It was nothing compared to the admirers’ handiwork, but it would do. He smiled and plucked a feather from his wing and slid it into the knot in the ribbon. There, I hope that’s enough He yawned and looked at the time. By Luna, look at the time! I’ll mail it in the morning. With that, Soarin trotted over to his couch and flopped onto it. The last thing he heard before he fell asleep was hushed whispers from his room and a low sigh.