//------------------------------// // In Which Starlight Glimmer is Angry // Story: Bits, Pieces and other Scrapped Ideas // by FoolAmongTheStars //------------------------------// Of all the stallions, Starlight angrily thought, in all the world, she just had to be beset with the smart one. Of all the red-haired stallions in the world, she had to be stuck with the one who wittingly used his brains for evil —or at least, against her. What kind of bad luck was that, anyway? What kind of sick fate could possibly come up with something that disgustingly…cruel? She angrily kicked the door and banged with firm hooves, to no avail, of course. Behind her, a few of the students had stopped to observe, bemusedly, the usually calm and good-nature headmare lose her grip on composure. Among them, a few were amused. No one, of course, seemed worried. It was just her luck. Starlight paused her constant knocking for the fifth time to turn to her admiring crowd, who half-recoiled at her frustrated glare. Finally, she asked, “Where is he?” It took a while for the onlookers to understand what she was so coldly demanding. Ever since Starlight had been given the position as headmare, she had become somewhat of an unwitting role model for the students, thanks to her understanding nature and always seeming to have the solution to any problem. And here she was, openly admitting she had lost one of the most important members of her staff. But Starlight didn’t care for the stun looks. All she could seem to focus on was that the stallion she was in charge of—the one who was currently missing. He was her whole life; he gave meaning to her existence, to a spirit that needed a goal. In fact, to say she was distraught when he asked for a vacation from work—dismissing his own security—was an understatement. She needed him to define herself, and he wanted to just…drop her? For a whole week!? It was ridiculous. She had, of course, outright refused. What sort of friend would agree to let their bookish friend go off on his own, in a shack somewhere in the wilderness, anyway? He was supposed to be a scholar, couldn’t he see how foolish his suggestion was? She spared no words trying to explain him. But of all the stallions, she had to get the smart one. “Where,” she grounded out for the second time when no answer came forth, “is he?” It was here that Starlight regretted not listening to his suggestions further. It would not have changed her mind in the slightest, but at least she’d have more details of his actual plans. For instance, she might have known just where, exactly, he intended to vacation to. She’d have then set out for that particular spot, seeing as it was his most likely hiding place. But she hadn’t listened, and he hadn’t taken no for an answer, and now she was standing outside the locked door of his office, unable to enter the room to search for clues. Banging on the door, at this point, just proved that he wasn’t anywhere near the school grounds. Starlight was not pleased. He probably left sometime during the night, with no word to anypony and no regard for her sanity. This was karma, plain and simple, divine punishment for the mess she’d caused for toying with time and space. Whatever higher being that controlled fate was probably rolling around in their happy little cloud of amusement and laughter at her expense. And of course, fate would derive sick pleasure from seeing her tormented. She was their plaything, after all. But dammit, where was he?! “Hey Starlight,” a cheerful voice said, and she turned sharp blue eyes on the mare, impatient. Trixie didn’t even flinch at her venomous look, just walked casually by on her way to her own office, “Didn’t he mention he wanted to see the skies in the Crystal Mountains?” Something like dread crawled into Starlight’s stomach. Of course, he had, but she also stressed how dangerous the journey would be, hadn’t she? She described the precautions and dangers of traveling the snowy valleys and cliffs. And for Celestias’ sake, did he even own clothing warm enough? It was bad enough already that Starlight lost her Vice Headmare, she was also beginning to worry that she lost him in a place measurably more dangerous than Ponyville. All the students watched her stalk off, her posture tense and anxiety making her jittery. She’d have to gather warm clothes, buy an express ticket to the Crystal Empire, pack enough food for two, and get boots and blankets… Dammit! Starlight gritted her teeth as she marched on. Really. Of all the stallions in the world, she had to get the foolhardy one. Stupid mountain. Stupid cold, stupid ice, stupid snow, stupid wind. Stupid mountain. The damn place was just barren and cold and just. Plain. Despicable. He would probably disagree, she considered as she trudged through the snow, trying to spot the trail through the blizzard where she could attempt to locate his tracks. He would probably claim that the biting cold was a mere chill and that she had to stop seeing the bad things in life, that she ought to appreciate the power of nature, wonder at their fragility. But trudging through a blizzard on hoof—the train could only travel the mountains during the summer months—made it all the more difficult to find her way. Her boot sank into a snow pit; she stumbled, the snow came up to her stomach, and she cursed as she tried to pull her leg back out without getting too much snow down her boot. He would probably laugh at her, his tinkling laugh light and capable of making her laugh too, brush everything off as amusing silliness, think the blistering cold a mere breeze, make her look through the snow and clouds at clear blue skies and crisp air. But he wasn't here, was he? The wind howled around her, and she looked around, tears coming out of her squinting eyes from the unforgiving cold. She couldn't see anything. It made her heart swell with concern, and for a moment she forgot her anger. Worry was a foreign feeling, somehow. Never before had she felt so utterly incompetent. This was all his fault. She extracted her leg out of the hole and sat in the snow, looking around in growing despair and anger. This was all his fault. His fault that she was here, so frozen and so worried, his fault that the wind was so powerful, his fault that snow quickly covered any tracks she may have hoped to trail. The very picture of her sitting there, trying to catch her breath, limbs exhausted, as she hoisted her packs and tried to move efficiently in clothes too thick for her comfort. His fault, all of it. Of all the stallions in the world… Rather than sit and fume, she stood and used her energy on moving her heavy limbs. She wasn't even sure she was going in the right direction. Somehow she hoped against hope that he hadn't come this way because she knew there were precipices ahead, unforgiving crevasses of rock and ice, the kind she had nightmares about. Something would be adding itself to her nightmares soon, though. The idea of him, falling down those precipices, would increase the horror tenfold. He could picture her foreleg and hoof too short to reach out and save him, her hooves keeping her from jumping after him to die at his side, his pleading eyes and lips mouthing words to her she was too scared to focus on… And it would all be his fault. Her incompetence was his fault, even. If only he hadn't gone off and left her behind. If only he'd asked her to come along. She'd have gone with him, anywhere, anytime, for as long as he pleased. All he had to do was ask. But he didn't ask. He told her to stop tailing him all the time, told her he wanted to be alone. Starlight didn't like to be left behind. She couldn't stand it, couldn't stand the silence and that awful guilt. Worst of all, she couldn't stand the idea of failing him, of something happening to him and she not being there to save him. But of all the stallions in the world, she had to get the one who thought he could handle himself without her help. There were tracks here. Starlight almost discarded the information as too good to be true, but she paused to examine the rapidly disappearing hoof prints in the snow. They were evenly spaced, not hurried. He had walked, almost casually, towards the more dangerous reaches of the province. Bloody wizards, always acting so confident and letting bad things happen to them… If he had ultimately fallen into a crevasse, she'd just… She preferred not to think about it. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be. Of all the stallions in the world, he had to be the most resilient, resourceful, and prudent. A strong gust of wind nearly slapped her in the face, and the cold made her wince. She felt despair grow inside her, welling up like absolute terror, and she couldn't keep herself from wondering how his clumsier, weaker frame could withstand such gales, how he had braced himself against it, and why? Why? "Sunburst…" She breathed, the sound whisked away by the wind and unheard, even to her ears. "Sunburst…" She stopped in her tracks, trying to make sense of it all, trying to understand why suddenly his trail turned into snow angels, how he could turn such simple things into a smile on her face, even despite her worry. Why had he left? How could he do that to her? How could he expect her to wait patiently and not worry about him? Where was he? Never before had Starlight wanted to find someone so much, never felt it pull at her insides with such desperation. "Sunburst…" She weakly called. "Sunburst…! Sunburst!" Her calls were pointless, she knew. If anything he was long gone, if anything her cries turned into howls with the distance. Howls of pain and despair. There was no way she'd find him like this. She couldn’t use her magic in such conditions, and she'd have to rely on daylight, which was rapidly fading. And then, she saw the shack. It was more of a house, she considered as she found her way over. Snow had made trudging tedious, and from start to finish, the trek had taken almost half an hour. The sun was setting early beyond the mountains, throwing deep shadows over her. The house's stone was old, well settled, and she could see the windows were fogged up from the warmth inside. She could guess the glow of a fire; smell the faint scent of warm food. Her teeth were already clattering, and she couldn't feel her hooves in her boots. It was her white-hot anger keeping her warm and moving onward. And, when she found herself in front of the door, her anger died. He was singing. It was a low tune, she had to stick her head to the door to hear. A rendition of a song they came up as foals, a very low hum, one that he only used when he needed comforting, one she took as a signal to reach out and let him vent frustrations, one she took as his blind way of telling her he needed her. And here he was, singing without her nearby? The song died out, his voice falling into silence. Starlight felt something tear at her insides. Did he need her anymore? Had he ever? A strong gust of wind pushed her, and she was unbalanced, and she caught herself by slamming a hoof against the door. "Starlight?" His voice called out, loud enough for her to hear, and she pushed away from the door, surprised. His own surprise quickly turned to anger. "Starlight, if that's you at the door, know that I'm not going to let you in!" Staring wide-eyed at the door panel, jaw hanging, the mare could only wonder how he knew. "Starlight?" His face―so golden, so healthy, thank Luna―appeared briefly in the foggy windows, just long enough for him to spot her, just long enough for her to see his annoyed glare. His voice was muffled when he loudly declared, "You better head back to warmer climates, Starlight, because I'm not letting you in!" "You said that already," she loudly replied, face rapidly flushing in anger, feeling foolish for screaming at a door while in the middle of nowhere, feeling the storm beat her from all sides. "But Sunburst, if you won't, I'll just―" "I want you to leave!" He loudly said, voice oh so close to her, just beyond the panel of the door, just so close… "If you won't, you'll just… you'll just freeze to death! But I won't pity you! So leave!" For Heaven’s sake! Of all the stallions in the world, she had to get the stubborn mule! "I'm not leaving!" She angrily announced. "You left for no reason, without a word, and I won't let you get off that easily!" "Well, I'm not coming out!" He screamed. "You can just sit out there like an idiot because I am not going to pity you!" "Fine!" She spat, feeling his words sting and refusing to let it show. Instead, she loudly answered with, "I wasn't counting on your pity, stupid idiot! I can stand out here all day and night! I'm not leaving!" "What do you want? You want me to go back? Short on staff? I won't return for a while, so get used to the idea!" "You can’t run off like that! It's not safe for you out here. As I already told you, before you decided to ignore my advice and act on your own, without thought." "Well, I'm the one inside by the fire and you're out there in the cold, right? Not bad for a stallion who doesn't think!" He was obviously miffed. "Yeah, I'm outside, and I'll stay here as long as it takes!" "For what?" He asked, in the same tone as hers. "For you to come back!" "Fat chance!" "That's alright," the mare spitefully replied, trying to sound casual. "I can handle a little wait. I've got food for days." "Good for you," he said, sounding a little worried by the information. "Because I'm certainly not going to share!" She was silent for a moment. She wondered how their relationship could have degenerated to this. There had been a time where they had been friends. A time where they would laugh and be accomplices. A time when working with him had been more than just an honor; it had been a pleasure and a real laugh. But that was before. Before she ever started considering love. Before he stopped needing her. By the time she had helplessly fallen in love with him, he was already trying to distance himself from her, addressing her only when necessary, and then briefly. She wondered why, and every time it made her ache more. The idea that she was no longer needed, that he no longer considered her a friend —at the very least— was more painful than she liked to admit. And perhaps she had withdrawn then, hoping that the injuries and rebuttals would not come as often as when she openly tried to be his friend. Perhaps, she rationalized, he felt he had a duty before friendship, and so… And so, she set about helping him fulfill that duty to its fullest. Yet here he was, dropping duty! Dropping her! Why? "Are you still out there?" His voice sounded suspicious, cutting through her thoughts like he expected that she would try something sneaky. At any other time, she would have. She'd have tried to open the window, teleport inside, perhaps even knocked the door down. She would have done it. But this time, she just said, "Yes, I'm still here!" and plopped into the snow, sitting in front of the door, back to the panel, and eyes staring out at the snowstorm that seemed to be worsening by the second. Her eyes darted around and she considered building a snow fort to at least break the wind a little, but then she figured there was no point after all. If he wanted her to catch her death in this cold, who was she to deny his wishes? He had, after all, gone to great lengths to lose her. If he really no longer wanted ―needed her, then why would she burden the world with her presence? That would teach him, she smugly thought. Yes, he would feel guilty upon finding her frozen corpse on his doorstep tomorrow morning. Well, it would serve him right. Of all the stallions in the world, she had gotten the one with the greatest propensity for guilt. "You should leave," he suggested callously. "Because I'm not opening this door." "I know you're not. See if I care." And, to further prove her point, she took her packs off her back and hugged them to herself, trying to keep her warmth from escaping into the night. Her teeth were shaking, but she resolutely ignored the fact. Her heart was leaping painfully in her chest, trying to keep her blood flowing to her frozen extremities. She curled her hooves in her boots experimentally to keep them warm and active and check they still responded to her commands. "What do you want with me, Starlight?" He loudly asked, frustration making his voice shrill. "I'll take you back or die trying!" She declared with feeling, perhaps a little overdramatically, she admitted to herself. Then again, it was true, the way things were going, that she'd die trying. "Oh," he scoffed from within the warm confines of his little house, "that's how it always is with you, isn't it? You just have to take everything to extremes! To Tartarus with everything else!" "No," she replied, irate that he'd presume to understand her motives. “If I do something, set out to do anything, I always give it all I got until I succeed and nothing will stand in my way." "Well, that sounds like what I said!" He said, and she could see him in her mind's eye, flushed, crossing his hooves across his chest, eyes narrowed angrily. The thought brought a wistful smile to her face until a strong gust of wind chilled her to her very bones. Teeth clattering, she curled over herself as much as she could and her smile turned into sadness and fear. "Why?" She weakly asked, her voice muffled by her thick sleeves, all anger evaporating into the frigid air. "What?" He asked, still angry, and she considered that his voice was definitely not suited for anger. "Why?" She asked, a little louder, but without animosity; only resignation and a tinge of hurt. "Why did you leave?" There was a silence. She expected him to tell her to mind her own business or something equally rejective. At this point, she didn't care anymore. She was so cold that she could pretend the pain in her chest was caused by the glacial air in her lungs. But she would not leave. She would stay by his side, she’d already lost him once, and she was his friend first and foremost, even if he didn’t want her friendship. She was his until the end. The night was falling fast, and already she couldn't see much, mostly because of the snow falling so heavily, swept by strong winds. But Sunburst's voice, when he spoke, was much softer than before, "Why do you care? All you seem to think about is work and what I'm doing for the school. You don't care for me anymore. The truth wouldn't make sense to you." Her eyes, which had been drifting closed ―she felt so tired―, snapped open again. Where did such an accusation come from? Oh. "I still care for you," she answered. "Stop it, Starlight," he said, his voice softening into something she identified as hurt. "You only care about what I can do for you. We used to be closer than this." "Until you started shutting me out!" She exclaimed, shocked to hear him take on her pain, turning around to yell at the door. "Do you have any idea how confusing that was? One minute we're the best of friends and the next, you want me to call you 'Vice Headmare' and 'Professor' and have me vow and kneel and beg!" Distinctly hurt now, his voice sounded shaky when he said, so close to the door he could have been kissing it ―she could imagine him mirroring her own motions, pressing his forehead against the panel― "I couldn't ―I can't be friends with you, Starlight." "It seemed fine to me at the time," she resentfully said. "But maybe I missed something, didn't I? Maybe I was just blind." "I care for you," he breathed, and her spite died out again. "I needed to get away… You wouldn't understand." "I wouldn't understand?" She incredulously repeated. "What is there to understand? Could you ever handle that I―" "I was falling in love with you, Starlight!" There was silence, and his shaky exclamation was followed by a brush of fabric. Perhaps he was wiping tears. "What?" She asked, stunned. "Oh, for the Celestias' sake, Starlight," and for a moment he sounded like he used to when he tried to teach her complex theories out of a book in his library and she would refuse to listen, "what else is there to say? I know you don't feel the same, so I decided to distance myself from you." He seemed to choke up a little, before adding, "I'm sorry, but I couldn't stay friends with you. I needed all or nothing." "And you chose nothing," she concluded, wounded. "Without asking me what I wanted." "Well," he snorted, sounding a little more sarcastic than usual, "can you honestly tell me you would have fallen in love with me, Starlight?" Something about his disbelief stung like he couldn't fathom that she was capable of such love. Of all the stallions in the world, she had to want the one who was blind to her hopes. Begrudgingly, she hoarsely said, "I guess we'll never know, will we?" And she stood. "What?" His voice was muffled, breathless. "Well, professor," the headmare announced, louder, trying to sound composed, and hatching a test of both their wills, "I can tell you've been pulling this off nicely. You can obviously take care of yourself in these parts. I'm sorry I underestimated you. I'm sorry I treated you like an idiot. I can see now that you know perfectly well what you want.” "Starlight, wait. What are you talking about?" She could hear his tremulous voice from just behind the door panel. "I can see," she stated, "that you prefer loneliness to my company. If that’s what you want, I'll respect your decisions. Seeing as it's freezing out here and I'm not welcome… I suppose I'll return to lands where survival isn't quite such a hassle. At least over there I know I'm not burdening you." It was hard, she found out, to keep the hurt out of her voice. She hoped he wouldn't let her do as she said, hoped that she was making the right choice, hoped she wouldn't be forced to give up. "And if you ever change your mind and choose to return," she added, "I’ll gladly give you your job back...or a recommendation letter, whatever you need to move on. If you want nothing of my friendship, I will not burden you with it. There will be nothing to feed both our delusions." She felt her heart hurting with those words, like it was being slowly, dully ripped apart. Her hooves sunk in the snow as she attempted a few steps forward and tried to find the best way down the mountain and out of the province. There was no way she had enough energy to find her way out before the storm engulfed her whole. She thought it would be strangely fitting for something so cold and emotionless to be her downfall. But she didn't get very far. A sudden light drew her attention behind her and she saw him, in his doorway, wrapped in a warm blanket, cheeks pink and humid from tears. He looked cold, but the warm glow behind him told her he was still quite comfortable. She wanted to tell him to close the door and return to the warm safety of the house, but she presumed he just wanted to get the last word; her advice would not be appreciated. His voice, when he spoke, was weak, but it still carried over to her ears. "Don't go. It's too cold out there." She knew he was right, of course. She was feeling the icy winds bite straight to her core, like her coat was a thin veil rather than warm lined protection. "Oh, now you want me to stay?" She said as she turned back to look at him, trying to sound detached and cynical, but feeling hope and love surge at the mere sight of him. "I don't want us to be friends," he daringly said. "I haven't been honest with myself. I want more. It was wrong of me to ignore your wishes, so now I ask you, Starlight: what do you want of me?" He had said it all in one breath, and now he was fearfully awaiting her rejection. Of all the stallions in the world, she was beginning to think she'd made the right choice to fall in love with this one. He was more straightforward now than he had been in ages. She shrugged and smiled. "At the moment? A warm fire might be good." "And me?" He asked as she turned around and walked back to him. "A warm fire and you," she confirmed. "Right now, I think I could live the rest of my life with just those two things in particular." "What, then," he asked, raising a brow as they both felt the odd comfort of their forgotten discussions rekindled inside them, "becomes of me?" She put a cold muzzle under his jaw and nudged him inside, smiling softly. "Nothing special, professor. Just that you can kiss your boss whenever you want. That's all." He laughed as she closed the door behind them both. Really, Starlight considered as she felt soft lips kiss her cheek sweetly, deliberately, the fates ought to be proud of her. Of all the stallions in the world, she had chosen one ―just one― and sworn herself to him. And, judging by the way he was currently running his hooves over her mane, he had accepted her self-sacrificing offer. "It's a pity," he said, "that I didn't think of getting another bed for you." Her head rolled back against the carpet and she looked at him from under dark eyelashes. The bright glow of the fire cast his skin in tones of orange and peach. Liquid blue eyes peered down at her, kissable lips curling at the corners. So handsome. "It’s fine," she lazily said. "I can sleep on the floor." He seemed to ponder the suggestion, but ultimately pressed his lips together, frowned, and shook his head. "No," he thoughtfully said, "no, that doesn't seem like such a good idea. You might get cold." "That's true," she conceded, then smiled and brought a foreleg around his waist, feeling the fabric of his cloak under her hoof. "I suppose you'll have to stay with me, then." "Or we could share the bed," he said, raising both brows like she was forgetting the obvious solution. "It might be a snug fit, don't you think?" She asked, furrowing both brows in mock thought. "It might, but it's an experiment I'm willing to make." Oh yes, she thought to herself as he stood from her and tugged her up from the floor. The fates would soon be very proud of her. And that higher being wouldn't be laughing as much at her incompetence tomorrow morning, she was sure of it. "I forgot to pack my pajamas," Starlight said, holding on to his hoof. Oh yes. Very proud. Of all the stallions in the world… "That's a pity," he mildly replied, smirking. She had fallen in love with this one. "It seems I forgot mine too." No wonder.