//------------------------------// // Soul Mark // Story: Long Distance Soulmates // by PoisonClaw //------------------------------// Long Distance Soulmates As the door to Prince Blueblood’s chambers opened up before him, Blueblood was finally able to breathe a long sigh of relief, now free from yet another night of torment. Kicking the door closed behind him, Blueblood grabbed at his bowtie and practically tore it off, tossing it and his collar across the room to land in a heap on the floor. While certainly an unbecoming act of a noble pony like himself, in the comfort of his private room in the castle he found he couldn’t bring himself to care, finally allowed a moment to himself after what felt like hours of ponies practically throwing themselves at him, all with poorly veiled sycophantic desires fueling their words and actions. True, there were those who honestly desired to talk to him without any ulterior motive behind it, but ponies such as those had proven to be few and far between amongst the ranks of ponies typically in attendance at such gatherings. Just fending off yet another mare with dreams of using his title to fulfill some fillyhood fantasy had been exhausting enough, even after donning his usual persona of a jerkish narcissist that had proven effective at keeping such mares at bay. Now Blueblood wasn’t exactly a saint by any means, and he knew this fact more than anyone else and had learned to use certain aspects of his personality to his advantage time and time again, but very few ponies ever got to see the “real” Blueblood, and he was thankful for that. So long as word continued to spread about how much of a boorish stallion he was in person it would help keep the number of mares seeking to use him to gain prosperity to a minimum. And yet, despite his sheer and utter contempt for such parties, he still found himself going even still despite the grief it caused him. Why did he continue to subject himself to something he very much hated? Some sense of noble responsibility maybe? An opportunity to gain a semblance of influence among the noble class? Maybe a chance to laugh at just how far he could push some mares before they ended up storming off in a huff?  His favorite moment still was the time he had used that Rarity mare as a pony shield against an oncoming cake during the Grand Galloping Gala years ago. For a moment he had actually considered dropping the act and apologizing to the poor mare, but her resulting outburst had left him mentally struggling to maintain his facade at all as the gala had descended into chaos and he had retreated to his chambers to laugh himself to tears.  Even still, that wasn’t the reason Blueblood found himself going to these parties again and again. No, he knew the real reason why he continued to subject himself to such torment.  Walking up to his mirror, Blueblood eyes were drawn not to himself, but down to a small blemish running along his neck, one normally hidden by his attire. As if someone had taken a quill to his coat, a line of script marred his pristine white coat and could not be removed as much as his Cutie Mark could. Maybe even more if the rumors of a town of ponies who had ridden themselves of their Cutie Marks was to be believed... This was his Soul Mark, a rare magical mark he had been born with that predicted the very first words his soulmate –the one pony who would complete and better his life better than anyone else– would say to him. He had long committed the words to memory, but still his eyes ran along the words as he read them once more. You watch it, ya dweeb! Blueblood scowled at the phrase he had been cursed to bear, thankfully that only he and his destined soulmate could even read those words without it appearing as utter gibberish. This was the reason he still attended such parties, out of some foolish dream of one day possibly hearing those same words spoken to him, and yet to no avail. Despite the palpable contempt within the words, Blueblood had thought he had deduced the circumstances behind them. An unexpected collision between two ponies was the most likely scenario, possibly caused by not watching where they were going. In his more inexperienced youth, Blueblood had even gone so far as to artificially cause such collisions, but every attempt had been an utter failure. Very few ponies had proven either brave or foolish enough to talk to him in such a manner thanks to his noble status, with most mumbling a quick apology before going on their way, and none of those who had seen fit to chew him out had ever called him a “dweeb”. And so, Blueblood had largely resigned himself to his fate, coming to terms with the idea that he would go his whole life without ever finding his soulmate. From the stories and accounts he had read involving those bearing Soul Marks through the ages, just as many ponies lived fulfilling and happy lives without ever finding their soulmate as those that did, leading scholars to theorize that the existence of a Soul Mark did not prophesy a foregone conclusion, but merely hinted towards a possible future that could occur. And yet, Blueblood had been unable to fully snuff out that small flame of hope that still burned in his heart, fed by the romanticized idea of Soul Marks that still persisted among the populous that one day, when he least expected it, he would encounter his soulmate and the pair of them would go off to live happy lives together like something out of a fairytale.            Blueblood just snorted at the lingering idea. “Fairytales aren’t real…” he muttered to himself as he turned away from the mirror and trotted off for his private bathroom with the intent of taking a shower, hopefully washing away the memories of yet another wasted night in the process.       *** Stepping out of the tailor’s shop, Blueblood adjusted his collar one last time as he set off down the street. He had a lunch date with a few of his socialite associates and it wouldn’t do for him to look anything other than his best. He could already picture the articles practically writing themselves, desperately grasping onto any shred of gossip to draw in viewers at the cost of his reputation. Such was the life of a noble pony like himself in the eyes of the common folk, always waiting for him to trip up in even the smallest way and prove that he was no better than them. However, noble pony or not, he had no more control over the fickle hand of time than any other pony, a fact that caused a spike of fear to shoot through his heart as he caught a glimpse of a clock through a nearby store window. His refitting had taken for longer than he had originally planned, and now he only had minutes before his scheduled appointment with his associates, and it would do him no favors to arrive even a minute late! Breaking out into a gallop, Blueblood made haste through the streets, not caring as he rushed past other ponies going about their business as well. A few of them threw harsh words in his direction, but Blueblood had long grown immune to the biting insults of other ponies and barely slowed in his race to reach the high-class restaurant the gathering had been scheduled to occur at. However, as Blueblood rounded one last corner that would have put him on a direct course for the restaurant, something barreled into him with such force that he was knocked clean off his hooves and sent tumbling across the street. Stars filled Blueblood’s vision as his senses slowly returned to him, along with a new throbbing pain in his side. Groaning, Blueblood slowly picked himself back up and settled back onto his hooves, giving one last shake of his head to dispel the last bits of haze clouding his head. Once he could see straight again, Blueblood craned his head to check himself for any injuries and gasped in horror at what he saw. He was filthy! His previously immaculate coat had become covered in dirt and dust from the tumble he had taken, and his brand new collar was now horribly askew and slightly torn in several places. I can’t show up to the restaurant looking like this! They’ll laugh me out of Canterlot for sure! Grinding his teeth together as rage flowed through him, Blueblood shot a glare over at the pony who had carelessly barreled into him. He was surprised then to learn that said pony… wasn’t a pony at all, but a griffon, one that too was slowly picking themself back up from where they had been lying sprawled out following their collision with Blueblood. Any griffon in Canterlot was an odd sight indeed, as most griffons were content to simply remain in their own nation of Griffonstone and rarely, if ever visited Equestrian cities, especially not Canterlot.  Blueblood cared little about their species, however, as the fact still remained that this griffon had still committed the grave sin of ruining both his ensemble and his upcoming meeting, his rage bubbling up inside him and becoming words as he harshly spat out, “Watch where you’re going, you filthy buzzard!” Registering Blueblood’s insult, the griffon shook their head once before glaring back at the prince. Growling through their beak, the griffon rose up onto their back legs, now towering over Blueblood and eclipsing him with their shadow. Puffing out their chest, the griffon snarled at him and yelled back, “You watch it, ya dweeb!” At that moment, time itself seemed to stand still for Blueblood. Birds remained suspended in mid-flight in total silence, while onlookers stood like living statues around him. Even the sound of his own heartbeat seemed to vanish in that one instance, the only sound audible to him being the repeating sound of the griffon’s voice. You watch it, ya dweeb. You watch it, ya dweeb. You... Watch... It... Ya... Dweeb. Over and over again those five words repeated themselves in Blueblood’s head, five words that perfectly matched a set of five words that he had seen on his coat every time he had spared even a glance into a mirror, five words he had never expected to hear directed towards him. The first words said to him… by his soulmate. All at once timed seemed to reassert itself, a deafening cacophony of sounds crashing into Blueblood as he struggled to process this new startling realization. He felt his legs shake beneath him as they threatened to collapse out from under him entirely, and yet Blueblood somehow managed to draw up enough willpower to keep himself standing, if for the moment. The burning rage he had felt but seconds before had fled him completely, replaced instead by a cold shock that chilled him to his very core.  During all this, his gaze remained locked on the griffon still towering over him, a female judging by her voice. Her coat was a light shade of brown, the feathers on her wings a slightly darker brown than her coat. In contrast, the plumage around her neck and face were a bright white with small highlights of light purple around her yellow eyes, with tips of purple at the end of several of her head feathers.    “What… what did you say?” Blueblood finally managed to say as he continued to stare wide-eyed at griffoness before him. “What, you deaf or just plain stupid?” The griffon harshly replied back, likely assuming that the stallion’s sudden wide-eyed look was due to having encountered a fierce predator like herself. “I said, ‘You watch it, ya dweeb!’” There it was again. Five simple words that meant nothing by themselves, but together… “You… You’re…” “I’m what?” The griffoness snarled back, now both angry and confused at what this pony’s deal was. “Spit it out already!” His voice suddenly deserting him, Blueblood reached up and ripped off his ruined collar, letting it flop down at his hooves unceremoniously. The griffon’s eyes drifted downward slightly as their gaze fell to the Soul Mark now visible across the prince’s neck. Now it was her turn to look shocked beyond belief as she read the words imprinted onto the stallion’s coat again and again. Most shockingly of all was the realization that she could actually read them. “No… No… You… You can’t be…” Taking a fearful step back, the griffoness now looked less like an imposing predator and more like a scared fledgling on the first day of flight school. With terror reflected back in her eyes, she hastily scooped up a bag she had dropped earlier and took off into the sky. “Wait!” Blueblood cried out, but the words had barely left his lips before the griffon was little more than a rapidly diminishing dot in the distance. Watching her as she fled from the scene, Blueblood stood frozen in the middle of the street as a whirlwind of conflicting emotions waged within him. “Prince Blueblood, there you are!” Fancy Pants called out as he strolled up to the still shell-shock prince. “My word, you look positively dreadful! What happened?” Blueblood barely registered that Fancy Pants was even addressing him at all as a million thoughts ran through his mind at once. It had actually happened… the words that had been imprinted on his coat since birth had finally been uttered. He had always assumed that they would come from a pony, he never imagined that a griffon could… Could she really be…  One thing became unmistakably clear to him then and there: if he let her go now without so much as even learning her name, he might never get this chance to find out ever again. “Blueblood, are you alright?” Fancy Pants asked, now concerned that the prince hadn’t so much as even acknowledged his presence. “You seem a tad bit– Hey!” Fancy Pants was taken by surprise when Blueblood suddenly took off running. “Where are you going?” He called out after the prince, but received nothing in response. To Prince Blueblood, only one thing mattered in all of Equestria to him: he had to catch up to her. He just had to find her again in order to learn for himself if she really was his… … His soulmate.