Share gossip with the mares: 11 Votes
“I just spent all day walkin’ ‘round Hoofston with your smelly flank,” Kestrel said, sticking her tongue out at Tumbleweed. “Think I’m gonna entertain myself with the company of my companions of the gentler sex for a bit.”
“Gentler sex?” Roughshod hooted from over Tumbleweed’s shoulder. “Kessie, I bet you’re the roughest outta all of us in bed!”
“Somepony’s gotta be the top,” Kestrel said, winking at Roughshod. Then she waved her wing and started walking toward the other end of the camp. “Enjoy your cards, stallions. Thank your lucky stars I ain’t in to whoop ya.”
“Y’know, she talks a big game,” she heard Tumbleweed say as she left. “But when was the last time she actually put down with us?”
“We’re just too intimidatin’,” Roughshod said, sitting down at the table. “She can’t hang with the professionals.”
“Yeah, I bet that’s it…”
Kestrel rolled her eyes as she walked away from the table, leaving the stallions to their game. Instead, she only shook her head as she sat down with the rest of the mares by the fire, bottle of whiskey clutched between her feathers. “Stallions,” she said, taking a sip from the bottle. “They ain’t no different than big colts.”
“They’d be lost without us,” Miss Irons agreed, a half-empty bottle of beer by her hooves. “It’s a good thing you’re Tumbleweed’s right hoof, Kestrel. Celestia only knows this ragtag bunch would have fallen apart without a mare’s intuition to steer things along.”
“Was that a compliment?” Kestrel asked the older mare, chuckling. “I didn’t think you thought so highly of me, Miss Irons.”
“I didn’t say it was your intuition that kept things in line,” the elderly mare said, the corner of her lip curving upwards. After the four mares had a little laugh at that, the oldest turned her attention to Trixie, staring her down like a lion that had cornered a mouse. “So, Trixie Lulamoon, you’ve been with us for a while now. I feel it’s time we really got to know you.”
Trixie blinked and drew back in apprehension. “Umm… Trixie is feeling uncomfortable…”
“Why do you do that all the time?” Silver asked her, leaning forward with her wing crests pressed into the ground to prop herself up. Kestrel noted the silver mare had already finished most of a bottle of whiskey, and given that she was still on the mend from her wound in Rock Ridge, she probably shouldn’t have been drinking so much.
“It’s part of my persona!” Trixie said, obviously flustered. “Trixie can—I can stop it whenever I want to!”
“Seems like you struggle a bit with that, filly,” Miss Irons noted.
“I just do it so often it’s a hard habit to break!”
“Uh huh.” Kestrel snickered and plucked a bottle of whiskey out of the nearby crate. She tossed it to Trixie, who caught it in her magic before it hit the ground. “You ain’t been drinkin’ much tonight, Trixie. Take a drink every time you say your name. That’ll get you caught up with us.”
Trixie looked at the bottle, then back at Kestrel. “You can’t honestly think Trixie—!”
“Drink!” the three other mares hollered in unison, and then the laughter peeled out over the camp as Trixie huffed and tore the cork off with her teeth. Spitting it into the darkness, the magician stared into the bottle with a shudder, then raised it to her lips and took a gulp. She nearly dropped it outright when she started coughing, but thankfully she maintained her magical grip on it. Good thing, too—Kestrel figured she would have slapped the mare for spilling good whiskey all over the ground.
Grimacing and coughing, Trixie set the bottle safely off to the side. “Gahh… Tr—I don’t know how you can drink this stuff straight!”
“You get used to it after a while,” Silver said, swaying lightly from left to right. “Trust me, I sure did!”
“Get shot enough times, you’ll be glad for it,” Kestrel said, sipping on her bottle. “Comes with the job.”
“If ponies are shooting at Trixie, then something has already gone terribly wrong!” Trixie exclaimed. Too late, she realized she referred to herself in third pony again, and threw her head back in frustration. “Grrr… fuck!” she exclaimed, and the bottle went back to her lips yet again.
Kestrel guffawed as the magician struggled to down another sip of whiskey. “Oh, we’re gonna make an outlaw outta you yet.”
“First time I think I’ve heard her swear since we got her,” Miss Irons said. “She’s making progress.”
Trixie glared at the older mare. “I really don’t like you right now.”
“Why are you looking at me?” Miss Irons said, raising her hooves. “Kestrel’s the one that made that rule.”
Violet eyes sharply turned toward Kestrel. “You have made my life agony since you got me into this mess,” she grumbled.
“That’s just the booze speakin’,” Kestrel said, waving her wing. “Remember how much gold we got you from the train job? That’s more money than you seen in… how long have you been doin’ that stupid little magic show of yours?”
“It’s not stupid!” Trixie protested. After crossing her forelegs and huffing, she sheepishly backed down. “And… well, I’d be lucky if I made a hundred bits a month. All the small towns in the San Palomino have nothing to spare. I would have been better off working at towns like Hoofston!”
“So why weren’t you?” Silver asked. “Why go all the way out to Rock Ridge, then?”
“Because those little towns don’t have performer’s licenses and magic fees.” Trixie rolled her eyes in disgust. “I would go broke just trying to perform there, even if a hundred ponies watched my show a day! You have no idea how happy Trixie is that we’re robbing this place!”
Silver snickered and pointed at Trixie’s bottle. “You said it.”
“Gah!” Trixie angrily took a drink, and she lowered her horn in Silver’s direction. “I have a mind to shove this bottle so far up your tail you’ll never see it again!”
Silver blinked, her pupils shrinking as she realized she was talking to a unicorn who could very well have the ability to act on such a threat, and she covered her rear with her feathers. “Eeep!”
“No wonder Roughshod likes her,” Miss Irons said with a chuckle. “He must see a little of himself in her… if not now, then surely in the future.”
That made Kestrel spit out her drink. “Sorry, what?”
“Oh, you’ve been missing interesting things around the camp while you’ve been flying about lately,” Miss Irons said, smirking at Kestrel. “I heard Roughshod talking with—or I guess I should say to—Snapshot about who the prettiest mares in the Gang were. He mentioned our magician friend here quite a few times.”
Trixie’s cheeks were burning bright red by this point. “He wants to ride Trixie’s ring-dang-doo…” she murmured, as if she were talking to herself in shock.
Kestrel laughed, and laughed hard, at that. “Oh, for real? Oh… oh, that’s too great…”
Even Silver struggled to hide her laughter behind a wing. “I think you two’d make a great couple!” she said. “Maybe you can even do a magic trick and make his little stallion disappear!”
“Trixie is not… she couldn’t… he’s too…” For a moment, Kestrel worried that they’d broken the magician. Finally, after stammering for a few seconds, Trixie just took a few gulps from her whiskey bottle, then set it aside with a shudder. “You’re right, Kestrel,” she said. “I really am glad for this bottle right now…”
“That’s right, have some more!” Silver said encouragingly. “Maybe he won’t look so ugly once you finish that bottle!”
“That’s a tall task, even for a crate of whiskey,” Kestrel said, shaking her head and laughing.
Trixie simply stood up and began staggering away from the fire. “Trixie… needs to find a bush to do her business in… this is too much…”
Kestrel couldn’t help but cup her feathers around her mouth and shout after Trixie, “Take a drink!” and making the other two mares at the fire giggle. As quiet came over the fire once more, save for the laughter, shouting, and muttering coming from the cards table, Silver forced herself to stand on uneasy hooves.
“I’m gonna… look at the lake,” she said, swaying back and forth. “Bet the moon looks real pretty on it…”
Without even waiting for a response, the young mare staggered away, nearly tripping over her own hooves and falling into the fire. Kestrel watched her go, table moving listlessly from side to side as she struggled to find her balance, and shook her head. “She’s had enough to drink,” she said. “Least she didn’t snag another bottle to go with her.”
“True enough,” Miss Irons said. “Somepony’s probably gotta look after her, though. Don’t want her falling in the lake and getting hurt.”
Kestrel hummed her agreement, though her eyes remained locked on the fire for a few moments more. She was certainly feeling socially lubricated herself; maybe now would be the time to try and make amends with Silver after the whole hammock fiasco last night.
Or maybe not. She didn’t quite know, and all the whiskey she’d had so far was muddling her thoughts.
Kestrel is feeling Drunk and takes -2 to all abilities until she has taken time to rest.
1. Go after Silver and make sure she doesn’t hurt herself. One drunk mare on her own’s bad enough, and two ain’t much better, but it’s better at least, that’s for sure.
2. Talk with Miss Irons about working things out with Silver. I bet the experienced mare of the group’s got somethin’ that can help me out… Just hope whatever she says sticks now that my eyeballs are startin’ to swim…
3. Move to the poker table. Wonder what the guys are up to? Bet I could rib Roughshod a bunch about Trixie. That oughta throw him off his game some…
4. Crash for the night. Somepony else can take care of Silvie; I need to take care of myself and pass out ‘til mornin’.