Esalen and Toola shared amused, sidelong looks, the latter biting the inside of her cheek to try and hold back a fit of giggles as the stallion before them tried his very best to look imposing.
Oh, if only Esalen didn’t now Vector to be that same little colt at heart who once slept with his favorite green blanket and plush bluejay until he was eight—and still had that precious little bird, as far as she knew.
“I believe we’ve done this dance a couple times now, Zippy,” Esalen drawled. She cocked her head to one side and arched a brow. “I’m not feeding on any of the guards who comes. Not until you’re all rested and don’t look like the walking dead after being on alert and double drills for so long.”
As she finished, she flicked her tongue, her lips twitching into a half-smirk. A bit of burn and spice of Vector’s irritation, but hiding a bit of whipped cream flavor. Humor.
Vector had never been one to shy away from such banter.
“We’ve been off alert for three days,” he countered, tapping a hoof to his chest. “I’m not in the Lovegiver Corps, so I’m not exactly needing to rest and restore that or my vitality here.” Vector flicked his wings, a teasing show as Esalen had learned from Sure Stroke. “And other than some aches, that’s it. So, non-issue, as your pest of a brother would say.”
Esalen waggled her ears. “Three days after two and a half weeks? Hmmm, what do you think, Toola?”
“I think Vector’s a silly featherhead who really oughta rest some more!” Toola replied. With a wink, she added, “Or he should realize that the big, strong stallion posturing doesn’t work when I’ve seen him snuggle with Baby Blue!”
“Hey!” he barked, flaring his wings. “You leave Baby Blue out of this!”
Baby Blue! So that was the little bluejay’s name! Adorable, even now.
Still, a bit stiff to bring up in conversation for teasing. Thinking it? Sure. But leveraging it to clip his wings? Toola was just asking for him to turn around and ask about one of her old toys.
That was a fight Esalen had no intent of watching.
She gave Toola a little bump of the shoulder, leaning in close to whisper, “Ease up on Baby Blue. You know better.”
To her credit, as soon as the words left Esalen’s lips, Toola winced and ducked her head. She did know, and she was mare enough to feel it hit square between her shoulders. “Sorry, Vector. Just funning a little.”
The stallion gave a discontented grumble, but nodded once. “Yeah, I know. It’s fine.”
“I know. It’s my fault for bringing her up.” A rueful smile made its way across her features. “Still, though. You can’t just jump back into giving love like you’re wanting. You need to recover your strength, Zippy. Rest up a little more.”
Before he could argue further, Esalen closed the distance between them and put a hoof on his shoulder. “Come back in a couple days and let’s see how you’re looking,” she said softly. “I won’t take bits today. If you look good and aren’t feeling as much lingering aching or tiredness, I’ll take a meal. Call it a delayed trade, if you like.”
The stallion wrinkled his snout, thinking over the offer. “Two days,” he replied with a flick of his tail. “Muscle aches don’t count.”
“There’s workout aches and tired aches—if you feel the latter, I’m not feeding. And don’t you try lying.” She stuck out her tongue and waggled it at him. “I’ll know.”
“Yeah, yeah, emotion tasting and coyness. I know.” With a playful roll of his eyes, Vector leaned in and nuzzled Esalen’s nose, then turned and gave Toola a little one as well. Any and all offense forgiven with ease. The bonds of trust and years of friendship on open display.
Vector turned and made to trot out of her office, his tail swishing merrily, a testament to the victory he’d won, delayed or not. Feeding his friends had always been something he held in high regard, like some sacred duty of his as a pony of Respite.
To some degree, he matched quite a few others in the village in that thinking.
As he took his first step out into the main room, Vector lingered a moment, his wings twitching. Then, he turned to look over his shoulder, his bottom lip held between his teeth.
“Thanks,” he muttered after a moment. “Not just for the message, but to both of you.”
Toola blinked and cocked an ear. “For what? The massage? You know we’re all happy to help here, Zippy.”
“No—well, yes, that too.” A hint of rosy pink bled into his face. “Looking out for me and not letting me push it when I’m tired. Even though I’m stubborn and mouthy.” He offered a crooked smile and added, “You’re both great friends.”
“Any friend would, Zippy.” Toola pranced her way over and bumped her nose against his. “Now go rest up. Or at least go eat.”
His smile grew into a wicked grin. Vector nipped at her nose, snickering at the squeak and flailing of limbs as she reared up and stumbled back into Esalen’s embrace. With a cheeky raising of his brows and ruffling of his feathers, he slipped out and dashed through the lobby faster then even Toola with her boundless energy could recover and spring after him in chase.
The mare could do little but stop at the door, her ears bristling at the sound of his receding mirth. Her face reddening and cheeks puffing, she cried out, “Zippy, you jerk! Just you wait until I get my hooves on you!”
Esalen sucked in her lips, her shoulders shook with restrained laughter as she called her girlfriend back and threw a hoof across her shoulders. “Let him have that one,” she chided, pressing a kiss against the corner of Toola’s mouth. “You earned it with the Baby Blue comment, I think.”
A grumble was the only reply forthcoming, earning a chitter and another peck to the corner of the huffy mare’s mouth.
It was enough to draw a hint of a smile to tug at those sweet lips. “Still gonna get it,” Toola mumbled. “Gonna make him stretch and twist him like a pretzel like your brother used to.”
Oh, dear. Hiding a grin behind her opposite hoof, Esalen nipped her cheek and said, “Well, remember he’s a guard now, giggle box. Chances are that he’ll tie you in knots.” She paused a moment in thought, then added, “And see how flexible you really are.”
Her comment earned a wicked smirk and gleam in those eyes. “Who said I meant wrestling? I’m gonna trick him into a yoga session!” Toola practically sang. She turned, flirting one of the curls of her tail beneath Esalen’s nose. “Do we have anyone else today?”
“Er, not that I know of.” Esalen cast a quick glance over at Caress’s half-open door, just in time to hear a client’s pained hiss taper off into a moan of content as her mentor’s expert touch worked their muscles free of aches. “Caress? Do we have anyone else?”
“Not unless there’s a walk-in!” Caress called back. The changeling leaned back to glance through the doorway at them, a smile playing upon her lips. “I heard Vector’s grumbles. Did you refuse a feeding again?”
“I did. Zippy’s still too tired and needing rest for my taste. Told him to stop by in a couple days and I’d collect my meal.”
Her mentor gave a nod, beaming. “Good girl. We want happy, peppy clients leaving, not dragging their hooves. Especially not a guard.” Caress’s gaze flitted back to her own client. “Ah! Excuse me, Mister Palmetto! My pupils just had to check on our schedule—girls, if you don’t mind hanging out just a bit longer in case a walk-in comes, I’d appreciate it!”
“You got it, boss-bug!” Toola snapped a quick salute and adopted her best stony-faced guard look—which was to say, a frown with puffy red cheeks and poorly restrained laughter that lasted all of half a second at most before her mask faltered.
Esalen shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, giggles.”
“Love me? Hold me? Kiss me tenderly under the moonlight?”
“Oh, stop it, you!” The changeling swatted her tail across her girlfriend’s nose, her smile robbing it of any heat. Then, she began to trot toward the door leading out into the lobby, a happy little bounce in her every step. “Come on and sit out in the lobby with me, trouble. We can talk and greet them ourselves.”
A merry giggle and hurried thudding cadence before Toola brushed a shoulder against her flank and laid her cheek upon shoulder filled Esalen’s heart with warmth.
Such a little pest. But her very favorite pest.
Esalen eyed her girlfriend with a deep frown, a low, discontented grumble built within her chest and deepened as her bright, sunny smile bloomed into a full blown grin. Worse, when she dared to waggle her brows and ears in perfect synchronization.
Clearly, the answer to her current problem wasn’t that move. A fact she realized as she drew her hoof back and away from the table, glancing at the game board through squinted eyes. She was losing. Badly. And if she didn’t figure something out soon, she’d find herself owing Toola more than she already did.
Really, she didn’t mind the promise of a date by the lakeside—what sane mare would mind such a request from her girlfriend?—the massage, or a return to Manehattan to walk around and visit Toola’s old neighborhood and maybe take in a show or two. A full weekend in her hometown? Happily accepted.
But this latest request …
A tremor one part nerves, one excited anticipation ran down her spine. Esalen ran her tongue along her lips and tried her best to swallow any purring which threatened to escape her lips. Or whimpering, for that matter.
To think such a giggly little thing could be so talented at chess. It boggled the mind, even now, after years of knowing the village’s bouncy, cartwheeling mare’s inexplicable affinity for the game.
Not to mention all the years of losing to her. Horribly.
Just as she was doing right this moment.
“Only a few moves available!” Toola sang, tilting her head from one side to the other with every syllable. “Sure you don’t wanna just give up and let me put you down for a session at home, Essy?”
Visions of herself stretched into all manner of awkward, complicated positions danced in her head. She’d joined Toola for a few of her personal routines before, and, well, Esalen could honestly say their clients would never see so much as a hint of some of the wackier side of things her lovely little mare was capable of performing.
Which made that promise to get Vector tied into a pretzel if she could con him into a session all the more real, and made Esalen wonder just what sort of fate the mare could be planning behind that false mask of innocence.
Innocent? Toola? Esalen nearly laughed. She could see the gleam of wicked delight, utmost glee shone and danced in her sky blue eyes like flames. Toola most certainly wanted this win. Of that, there was little doubt.
And that she could put Esalen in such a hopeless position in the game made her taste quite deliciously of love, mirth, and immeasurable joy, enough that the changeling would’ve just loved to throw the board aside, dragged her into a hug, and nibbled her ears until she squealed and agreed to let her have a nice, long drink.
Of course, if she threw the board, she’d be resigning the game, as was the rule in Respite.
An agreement to play with stakes was held with the same respect as a deal between parties—cheating, reneging, and backing out in the middle of things wasn’t just frowned upon, it was tantamount to sacrilege. The Sainted Ones certainly would’ve found such things unacceptable.
Still, she needed a way out, and it didn’t look like she had one on the board. Unless …
Across the table, Toola hummed and leaned forward, eyes wide and ears standing straight up, eager to see what she might dare try to stave off a loss one turn longer. And tasting positively smug and knowing about the whole thing. She knew.
Toola knew each move Esalen could make, and how to counter them. There was no choice, no escaping.
With a defeated sigh, Esalen flopped back in her pod seat and waved a dismissive hoof at the board. “I submit. You win again, gigglebox.” She closed her eyes, throwing a foreleg across her face as she cried, “I am but a poor, innocent changeling, now a slave to the whims of a giggly little gymnast!”
“Giggly little gymnast with a changeling girlfriend to stretch with at home!” Toola corrected, her happy bouncing heralding a little rubbery noise as the pod adjusted to her every motion. As Esalen cracked open an eye to fix her with a glare, she was met with a hooded smirk and slow lick of Toola’s lips. “You’re just gonna love what I’ve got in store for you!”
The sudden taste of cinnamon spice dancing upon her tongue made her face fill with a deep blush. Esalen swallowed, wasn’t this supposed to be her thing?
The chime of the clinic’s door bell served as her salvation from any further teasing. Esalen sat bolt upright and Toola swallowed her giggles long enough for both to scramble to their hooves and turn to greet the newcomer with bright smiles.
Sure Stroke stood in the doorway, sunlight wreathing her mane like a halo, and blinked before offering them a tired smile. Her eyes flitted to the chessboard and back, comprehension dawning across her face. “Oh dear. Suckered you into a game?” she asked, her voice tinged with mirth. “How many and what did you lose this time?”
With a groan, Esalen fell back onto her seat and laid her hooves over her face. “Too many.”
“Enough!” Toola replied. A quick flurry of tapping against the wood told of her happy prancing in place. “I get a lakeside date, a fulllllllll massage, a trip to Manehatten, but most importantlyyyyyyy~!” she trailed off into a hushed whisper, meant for Sure Stroke alone to hear.
A sigh escaped Esalen’s lips. She pinched the bridge of her snout, humming a low note and shaking her head as she listened to the oh-so-lovely sound of her girlfriend’s hushed, giggly whisper, a bark of laughter from her best friend.
“Oh, wow!” Sure Stroke said. “You really did win big—and you get to take charge of the session?”
“Mmhmm! Can’t wait to cash it in!”
Her ears burned. Slowly, Esalen drew her hoof down her face and fixed them with a look.
The mares beamed back at her, waggling their ears, and Sure Stroke happily fluffing her feathers despite the slight sagging in her posture.
Sagging? Sure Stroke?
Esalen blinked, the burn beneath her carapace evaporated. She rose from the pod seat, her face a neutral mask so not to seem so invasive. Or, perhaps more to the point, not so much like she was ready to pounce and hit her with a flurry of questions.
Tired or not, a defensive Sure Stroke meant a stubborn Sure Stroke—and stubborn pegasi were a right pain in the fangs to deal with on a good day.
Given the tiredness showing in her eyes, even with that bright smile she shared with Toola, it had been quite the morning for her mother’s protégée. Not to mention how she so embodied that aforementioned stubbornness.
“What brings you here, Doodle?” she asked casually.
“Oh! Um, just a bit of an off morning is all!” Sure Stroke’s smile faltered a touch, her ears began to droop but a fraction before she affixed them back into position. “Not that big a deal!”
Long had it been since Faith taught Aspire and Esalen that nifty little trick to poke the tip of her tongue between their lips to sneak a quick taste. Oh, Sure Stroke could try to hide it on her face and in words, barely even a lie, actually. Misdirection. A little note of cunning any Caretaker would approve.
Until they noted that subtle taste of rotting fruit—anxiety and pain—hidden within every word.
Of course, Esalen couldn’t just press it without turning her away or triggering that defensive response. As fun as it could be to needle the pegasus and wheedle what she thought was hidden out when they were younger—well, just that.
When they were younger.
What kind of friend would she be if she discounted Sure Stroke’s feelings as some sort of little secret to pester her to speak?
“Well, you’ve come to the right place for unwinding after a long day,” Esalen said aloud. She waved the mares through the door and followed along to close it behind them, then nodded to each of their rooms. “What kind of unwinding would you like—massage or yoga?”
“Yoga!” Toola chirped in her stead. “Essy’s been hogging Zippy for weeks! You’ve gotta try one of my therapy sessions!”
With a roll of her eyes, Esalen nipped at her ear. “I’ve only been ‘hogging’ him because he’s had muscle aches. You’re welcome to take him next time he comes in if you like.”
“I might take him then, but I wanna take Doodle now!” Toola spun on one hoof to aim a pitiful pout at Sure Stroke. “I promise you’ll love it and feel great after! I don’t make clients do my routines or anything that hurts—it’s cleansing!”
Cleansing? Esalen wasn’t entirely sure of that description, but considering her massages were meant to refresh and revitalize, she could hardly deny it. Come to think of it, yes, there was that sort of feeling after she’d joined in a practice session or two before they’d been official apprentices under Caress. And with all the work they’d been doing with Vector and the guards, and listening to some of their griping about aches and concerns for security …
Maybe she could use another session herself. If anything, it’d give her a chance to hear what was eating her friend.
And, on a slightly more selfish note, it’d prepare Esalen for whatever Toola had in store for her.
“That’s a good idea, actually,” she put in with a smile. Esalen brushed a shoulder against Toola’s and said, “I’d like to join, if you two don’t mind. We haven’t really hung out since our trades started, aside from eating together at home.”
Sure Stroke shifted from one hoof to the other, her bottom lip held between her teeth. “It couldn’t hurt,” she muttered, flicking her tail. “Celestia knows I could use something to help me unruffle my feathers.”
Scarcely had the words left her lips before Toola squealed and tugged them both along by their hooves, all but dragging them toward her room. “I’ve got the perfect routine in mind! You’ll both just love how it feels afterward!”
Esalen could only turn to share a nervous smile and laugh with her old friend, earning a little shrug in reply as they both hobbled on their free three legs to keep up with the excitable mare.
It was time to see just what was eating their happy, doodly pegasus.