//------------------------------// // 15. Stormclouds Over Manehattan // Story: Out of Love // by Carapace //------------------------------// The first wild storm of summer rolled through the Neighagara Forest region the very day Aspire and Sure Stroke set out to meet up with Enticier. As a Cloudsdale-born filly from Thunderbolt Heights and the daughter of a Weather Factory worker, not to mention the cousin of a stallion obsessed with such wild phenomena, Sure Stroke had always loved storms. Whether a short drizzle or a torrential downpour, thunder rumbling in the distance or the full force shaking the very clouds beneath their hooves and lighting the lower altitudes like a series of strobes, there was always some solace, some warmth it brought to her heart. And why shouldn’t it? Storms were a force of nature tamed by pegasus magic. A testament to their tribe’s strength and ingenuity. Sure Stroke would’ve been utterly stunned—appalled, even—to find one who didn’t see it so. Which only made the slight creeping of melancholy and worry into her chest, that sinking feeling like rising floodwaters dragging her to the depths, all the more visceral. More entrapping. And realizing so only seemed to add weight around her ankles and pull her deeper into its depths. The young mare sighed as she looked out the window, the chugging morion of the train jostled and rocked her against Aspire’s side. Even in her dour mood, she couldn’t help but love the way those heavy cumulonimbus clouds blackened Princess Celestia’s day like a shroud, or how the heavy rain flying diagonally across her vision as the train sped on its way, a few beads rolling along the glass as if they hoped to join the passengers on their journey. “I would’ve really liked to see him on a sunny day,” she murmured with a heavy sigh. A warm hoof covered by pale orange pony coat wrapped around her waist, pulling her close and into a tender embrace. She felt him nose against her, a tiny frown tugged at her lips as she felt the distinct lack of fangs and angular, chitinous snout. Just when had it been that she found herself more longing for his natural form than his favored disguise? Aspire nuzzled her cheek, a tuft of his fiery red mane tickled just beneath her eye. The smile upon that coltish face of him was warm and welcoming as a fire in midwinter. “What’s that about sunny days?” he asked softly. Sure Stroke turned, forcing a tiny smile in kind. “I said I would’ve liked it to be sunny today,” came her reply. She pecked his lips softly, adding, “It would’ve made seeing Enticier again a bit more happier. At least in mood. I thought he could use a bright day, maybe a walk around the city to cheer him up.” Slowly, that warm smile he’d inherited from his father fell. In its place, a sad frown spread, one that just didn’t seem to belong. The sight made her chest ache. “I’m sorry.” Sure Stroke turned to return his nuzzling, dotting his nose with a kiss by way of apology. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” “You didn’t—it’s not that.” Aspire breathed a sigh through his nose, shaking his head. His eyes flitted to the window, lingering on the rain as hers had just a few seconds prior. Her loving boyfriend chewed on his bottom lip and said, “I feel the same, in a way, I suppose. And I’m just worried about how he’ll be when we do get to see him. Seeing him hurt was never something I …” He trailed off, his lips quivering as though he were simply unable to voice the thought. Then, Aspire closed his eyes and let his head fall to rest upon her shoulder.  It hit her then. He was physically unable to give it voice. The mere thought of hurting Enticier, or seeing him in such a state, shook her smug, snarky, book-loving changeling boyfriend to his very core. Sure Stroke’s mind wandered back to that fateful night—the night she looked the Prince of Enchanters in the eye and turned down his offer for a visit to Paradise, his hive’s Respite and the nearest embodiment to the notion of perfection in existence. It had been she who made the decision, not Aspire. Aspire had worked it that way deliberately. Not to hurt Enticier, never that. It would surprise her if he would’ve ever wanted so, unless he found his longtime friend in the act of putting her under his charm. But in that instance, no.  It was something else. Not a want to hurt him or put all the weight on her shoulders, but to spare Enticier’s feelings and hope to maintain a friendship. At least, that’s what she’d thought since that night. Seeing him now, however … Seeing him now, Sure Stroke just couldn’t help but wonder if a part of Aspire’s design hadn’t been a little selfish—would it be so wrong to presume he wanted to spare himself the sight of his oldest friend so wounded by a heartfelt rejection? The young mare filed it away for later. Perhaps a discussion for after they made sure Enticier was well. Or well enough, at least. “Did I ever tell you what made me choose this form?” Aspire mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear. Sure Stroke felt her heart leap into her throat. Quickly, she shifted so she could glance about and make sure no one had entered the car. Reading stories was one thing, but talking about forms—had he lost his mind? To her relief, there was no one. The car was as empty as when they’d first entered. Thank Celestia for small mercies. With a sigh of relief, she nuzzled into his mane and murmured, “No, you never did.” Sure Stroke kissed the top of his head, just beneath his horn. “Tell me how?” “Enticier.” She could feel his lips tickle against her coat as they tugged into a fond smile. Aspire shifted so his cheek laid upon her shoulder and gazed up at her through those warm orange eyes. “You’ll remember, of course, I was always good at imitating other ponies. A few missed details here and there, little things that only another changeling or a pony in the know would think to look for—no offense to you at the time.” Sure Stroke rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same. “None taken, you dork.” Leaning in close, she nuzzled his cheek. Her eyes, however, still flitted about. Someone had to keep watch. “So, how’d Enticier help you pick this one, then?” The disguised changeling heaved another sigh. “Good as I was at imitating at a young age, I had trouble creating a disguise from scratch. Changeling brains are built to keep an image in their head, you see, but my problem was that I’d start questioning the image and adjusting on the fly. You can imagine how that went.” He paused to laugh at the way she wrinkled her snout. “Yeah. That’s about right.” Just thinking about it made her feathers bristle. She could picture him now—one minute, the handsome unicorn with orange coat and fiery mane laying against her shoulder, the next, a little flicker of doubt in that mental picture made his hips shrink as if someone let the air out of him, until he was wider in the shoulder. It was enough to draw a snort of laughter despite the mood. Aspire smiled and leaned up to nuzzle beneath her chin. “Laughing at me? I ought to take issue with that, I think.” “Only a little.” She pecked his snout. “About as much as you laughed the first morning I woke up wrapped up with you and panicked.” “Fair enough. Anyway.” If he still had his wings, Sure Stroke imagined they’d give an awkward little buzz. “We were coming up on a trip to Manehattan. The problem was that I was still struggling with getting my disguise in order, so mom and dad were thinking about cancelling. Essy—well, understand, we were little, so it’s not so much that she’s selfish as it is how little ones are.” Sure Stroke frowned. “She blamed you?” He nodded. “Yeah. We had a fight about it. Like I said, just stuff little nymphs and foals do.” Shrugging, he said, “Queen Lilith and Enticier were in Respite to visit about a week before we were supposed to go. Mom, dad, and Essy all figured we’d be cancelling our trip, and I was  feeling depressed about the whole thing. Enticier picked up on that right away. Told me he didn’t need to be able to taste my emotions to know something was eating me, and said if I didn’t tell him, he’d kiss it out of me. Just teasing, I think.” Another snort. Sure Stroke could only shake her head. Of course Enticier would say that. As for whether or not he meant it, well, that would just depend on how upset Aspire had been at the time. Though if it really was that bad … Had the Prince of Tricksters turned his own flirting into a means to jolt his crush out of a funk? “I didn’t even shove him away, funnily enough,” Aspire continued. “I was so upset, I just kinda told him I was a terrible changeling and that he should find someone else to kiss.”  Smirking, Sure Stroke kissed him again. “He didn’t like that, I take it.” This time, he snorted. “Oh, love no. He bit my ear, dragged me down to the lake, and tossed me  in, then told me to take it back or he’d just throw me in again.” Aspire sat up, lingering close so he could gaze into her eyes. “Sort of like a certain sweetheart pegasus of mine a couple years ago, now that I think about it.” Her cheeks burned rosy pink. “Sh-Shouldn’t we be focusing on this story?” she squeaked. “Mmm, probably.” He leaned in and nipped her eartip, nuzzling it softly. “After he dunked me a couple times, I told him what was bothering me. He sat me down and decided to give me some pointers, told me a few things his mother taught him so he could pick his own disguise.”  Aspire laid his head atop hers, drawing a tiny frown. It just didn’t feel right without his fangs teasing her mane. If he noticed, he paid it no mind. “He told me to keep the body closer to my own in terms of build. Height, weight, everything. Keep it like it is naturally, that way you have most of the picture in head, and all I’d have to worry about would be my fangs, my wings, and my color. It worked like a charm! Essy and I ended up going to Manehattan and having the time of our lives.” She felt his lips press against her head, lingering just a moment. “You’re wondering why these colors instead of my own, I take it?” “That was on my mind, yes.” “Heh, I thought it might be. The answer is simple—I was looking at Enticier when I shapeshifted. I always thought his mane was a nice shade of orange, and with his eyes it was kinda like a fire.” Aspire ran an orange hoof through his mane.  A gesture not without meaning. Her eyes widening, Sure Stroke let her mouth fall open. “His colors. All these years, you’ve been walking around in his colors. Even when you said he was a pain.” Aspire bowed his head, his smile turned rueful. “Yeah.” He let his eyes close slowly. A nervous shiver ran through his body as he murmured, “Little nymphs like me are dumb.” Whether he meant because of his choice of color or how he once spoke of his old friend, he didn’t say. It wasn’t needed. Sure Stroke cupped his chin and drew in close, pressing her lips against his in a sweet kiss. When they parted, she said, “He’ll be fine.” His hoof trailed up her foreleg to grip her wrist and squeeze it tight. “I sure hope so,” he whispered in reply. By the time the train eased its way into the station with a screeching of brakes and hiss of steam, the storm had mercifully weakened to a dull drizzle. Sure Stroke sniffed at the air, the fresh scents of ozone and rainwater brought a hint of a smile to her face. In that scent, she could tell this was no delivery from Cloudsdale—it was a wild storm. One that rolled in from the Canterlantic Ocean. No doubt the Manehattan Weather Team had been hard at work taking the edge off of it before it made landfall. Just enough that it was a nice, manageable storm rather than a summer squall. Unfortunately, it came with the added affect of making the platform wet and muggy. So much so that it made her mane frizz and curl up like it were trying to form a big, fluffy purple ball.  Sure Stroke huffed a breath through her nose and brushed her mane out of her eyes, glaring up at it as if daring her bangs to defy her whim once more. “Did he say where he’d meet us?” she asked, turning to look up at Aspire. “Said his train got in an hour or so before ours and that he’d be waiting for us on the platform.” Her boyfriend let his eyes flit about, his right foreleg bouncing as he searched for their friend. The platform wasn’t exactly crowded, but Manehattan Central Station was by no means small. “Keep your eyes peeled, I guess.” With a low hum of assent, the young mare turned to search out a schedule board. A thought crept into her mind. Might Enticier’s train have been delayed by the storm?  The Manehattan Weather Team would certainly mind the edges immediately impacting the city and the suburbs, but if the storm system was big enough, it might have stretched them too thin if they tried to mind the whole front. If what she remembered from her father’s talks on storm triage were right, they’d concern themselves with the parts that would hit the densely populated areas first and only move outward if they had the time. If they had the time and the bulk of the team didn’t just collapse from exhaustion, that is. Colorful bodies of ponies disembarking or hurrying to make it to their connection only made her task all the more difficult. Sure Stroke blew a frustrated breath through her nose and tried standing on the tips of her hooves. It earned her a wonderful look at a few ponies’ heads instead of their chins. And the back of one rather burly red stallion’s straw colored mane. Why did she have to be so darned short? With a roll of her eyes, she nudged Aspire’s shoulder and murmured, “Hold tight a second, I’m gonna get a look.”  “Huh—wait a—” She took a little leap, then pumped her feathers once and took to the air, gliding over the crowd. Thank heavens for high ceilings.  Sure Stroke landed just on the other side of the crowd, her violet tail flicking in agitation. “Swear that stupid board was around here somewhere.” The board or Enticier, one of the two would be nice to find. Suddenly, her ears twitched, a realization hit her like a bolt of lighting between the ears. There was a problem with her grand design. Rather, a gaping flaw, when one considered she was seeking out a changeling in the middle of a crowd of ponies in Manehattan, and she didn’t even know his preferred disguise! “Oh, billowing blizzards!” she snapped, stomping her hoof. Her ears splayed, she could feel a few stares from traveling ponies sent her way, but paid them little mind. A low growl built within her chest as she finally found the schedule board and scanned it for arrivals. How was she supposed to find Enticier if she had no idea what he even looked like. Better still, what station was he even coming from? Sucking in a sharp breath through her nose, Sure Stroke brought a hoof to her face. She dragged it down her snout slowly and aimed a glare at the offending board as if the mere heat might persuade the letters to morph and form the message “Enticier’s train! Right here!” Alas, bending reality to her whims wasn’t a gift bestowed on any pegasus she knew of—let alone herself. After a few seconds of trying to glare the board into submission, she felt a presence to her right—like someone had just sidled up and decided to stand there, quiet as a mouse, and wait for her to turn and take notice. A little game the villagers, especially the changelings, so loved to play. Unfortunately, Sure Stroke wasn’t much in the mood for that game today. With a huff, she turned to greet the new pony with a short order to go pester someone else. Instead, she was met with a crooked smile full of nervousness and just a hint of warm familiarity. The stallion before her—well, handsome didn’t quite do him justice. His mane, two-toned black and gray, was styled with a bit of a bouncy fluff in his bangs, and his coat was a deep sky blue, with just a hint of powder or sugar blue to it. A lovely blue she could’ve sworn she knew well. The stallion was just about as tall as Aspire—much to her chagrin—with a bit of a lighter, more … dare she say pretty look to his features? He was the sort of stallion Sure Stroke had seen some of the younger fillies and changelings look at in magazines and giggle over, the sort other mares would gawk at and whisper to one another while they watched him from afar. In fact, quite a few were doing just that. But a look into those eyes was enough to promptly derail her thoughts. Those eyes … there was only one stallion who had eyes like that. Only one with eyes that shade of blue. In his natural form, at least. “Sorry I kept you both waiting,” the stallion greeted in Enticier’s familiar, rich tone. He shifted in place and chewed on his bottom lip, only then did Sure Stroke notice the verdant glow wreathing his horn and the tray bearing three plastic cups floating just over his shoulder. “I thought I’d pick us all up some tea so we could warm—oof!” Sure Stroke caught him in a tight hug, causing him to take a step back to avoid falling, and squeezed him for all he was worth. She pressed her cheek against his and nuzzled, letting out a happy nicker and fluffed her feathers even as she felt those mares’ stares turn hot and baleful. The young pegasus didn’t care—and why should she? They just knew him as some fresh eye-candy who sauntered onto the platform at the right time. They didn’t know the smooth-talking, flirtatious sweetheart of a changeling he was at heart. The Prince of Enchanters chuckled and wrapped a hoof around her neck. “I’m glad to see you too, Sure Stroke,” he said softly. Enticier dared to nuzzle her cheek, his breath tickling her coat as he drank in her scent like he were returning home. After a moment, he drew back to survey her at length. “You look well. I trust our dear smug bookworm is treating you well.” Bookworm instead of bookbug. Clever. “He has.” Sure Stroke beamed. “He’s caught in the crowd, I just flew up to take a look at the board and—” “Did it without knowing you were coming from Brittle Bridle Station,” Aspire chimed in as he trotted up behind her, an amused smirk playing upon his lips. “You silly Doodle.” He pecked her cheek, then turned to offer a smile to his old friend.  There was heavy silence, broken only by the steady drum of rain and the shuffling of hooves all around them.  Drawing in a deep breath, Aspire closed the distance between them and wrapped Enticier in a one-legged hug, murmuring something in his ear that Sure Stroke couldn’t quite make out. Enticier ducked his head just slightly. A hint of red colored his cheeks. “I, er …” His eyes flitted about as if he’d only just noticed the crowd. With an awkward little cough and shifting of weight, and drew back from Aspire his gaze finding Sure Stroke for the briefest of moments. A move which drew a confused look from Aspire himself. She drew in a breath. Something was very wrong. “M-Maybe we should go find someplace to sit and talk,” Enticier muttered as he floated each their drink. “With fewer eyes and ears to interlope.” Sure Stroke blinked. Then, slowly, she turned to share a look with Aspire, a heat rising in her cheeks.  He did have a point. Just how bad would it be if they started talking about the state of Paradise where a bunch of ponies could hear? Fortunately, she and Aspire knew a pair who would be happy to give them a safe haven for their chat. “C’mon,” Aspire said with a little jerk of his head toward the door into the station. “I made some arrangements with Haberdasher. We can hang out at his place.” He snaked a tendril of magic around his cup and took a sip, offering a little smile before turning to beckon Sure Stroke. “After you.” Plucking her cup out of the air, Sure Stroke dotted his nose with a kiss, then unfurled her wings and wrapped one around his shoulders. With her other, she brushed her feathers against Enticier’s back before draping it across in a loose, friendly embrace.  Both of her boys under wing. If a bit awkwardly so with their height. “Haberdasher’s it is.” Then, she fixed the pair with a playful glare. “In the meantime, who in Celestia’s name said both of you could get taller than me?” For once, she found the wicked grins shared by those changelings in disguise a small comfort.  At least something was constant in her world.