//------------------------------// // An Introduction of Sorts // Story: Dresses and Dances // by Nadir //------------------------------// The Hanged Mare in Stalliongrad played host to many an unfortunate soul. Drifters, vagabonds, criminals, all sorts stayed here, sharing a drink and commiserating in their misery. So long as one played nice and didn’t make trouble, anything went. Seedy deals, clandestine meetings, all sorts of operations were planned under this roof, and today didn’t change the routine even the slightest. A white mare, one recently exiled from Canterlot, nursed a drink as she waited for her current visitor to show himself. She wouldn’t have to wait long, the black coated stallion sitting in the booth across from her. “So, all the way out here, huh? Fallen a bit far, haven’t you?” The mare looked over her drink at the man, the scent of alcohol nearly as strong as the scent of sweat from the stallion. “A mere setback. Nothing more. Things became a little too hot in the capital, and everypony knows that Stalliongrad is the coldest of places.” For such a grungy, beatdown hellhole, the mare couldn’t have been more strangely dressed. Slinky, red dress that hung tight to her body, pearls around her neck, mane styled up in the fancy ways that Canterlotians did it, nothing like the salt of the earth ponies around them. She went on too, glowering over the martini set in front of her, a frown settling into place. “My own daughter, my own kin having me exiled from my city. What a shame, don’t you think so?” she asked, with a dramatic sigh. A commiserating nod from the stallion. “But luckily for you and your ilk, I believe that my people will find ourselves something of a comfortable home here. And that’s what I wanted to speak to you with, Garcin.” Around them, bodies started to move, a few mares and stallions both closing around the booth, getting close, so close that neither of them would be able to leave. The mare herself seemed fine, contented and comfortable, yet the stallion shifted, glancing over with a frown. “Heart, you know I have the most respect for you in the world. What you’ve done with the operation over in Canterlot is nothing short of remarkable. But you can’t come into my territory and-”  A knife suddenly found itself at the stallion’s throat, magically levitated up by one of the unicorns from the blockade. The white mare herself leaned forward, hooves crossing one over the other as she looked at the stallion. “It’s Miss Scratch,” she reminded him. Heart Scratch, the den mother of the mafia had moved but she deserved no less respect. “And I need to remind you that I can do whatever I wish. This visit was meant to be nothing but friendly, but I’m afraid that considering circumstances, it can’t remain that way. I’m going to be taking over your operation here. The arms trade will now be going through me.” A far cry from the fine arts and stolen goods she used to traffic in, but she had to land back on her hooves somewhere.  The stallion whimpered, an actual whimper from what was supposed to be a tough, strong man. He knew what it meant.  With a dispassionate sip of her drink, Heart Scratch watched him die. This city was hers. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Coco Pommel lived a busy life. Between working on her current clothing line, going back to school, and dating her wonderful marefriend Moondancer, Coco barely had any time to herself. That wasn’t really a bad thing most days, but today of all days it suddenly was. You see, Moondancer and Coco had had something of a tiff lately. Neither of them really knew the cause of it, but something had felt off about their relationship, they’d been fighting more, arguing, having a hard time simply being around each other. Every couple went through these rough patches, but Moondancer and Coco had found one that was particularly rough.  The two fought nearly every day about something trivial, something stupid, and today didn’t show a lick of difference. “You never pay attention to me! I work so hard on all these outfits and you won’t even wear one for one of our dates!” Coco yipped out. How many times must she make her love something, anything for her to wear that wasn’t a frumpy black sweater? And how many times did she get turned down? Moondancer had only just now put down the book she read, magic slamming the thing against the couch with a furrowed brow and a big frown on the unicorn’s face. “I didn’t ask you to make any of them, you know. I’m just fine with what I have. I don’t have to be all ‘high fashioned or whatever’,” she scoffed. That wasn’t how Moondancer normally talked at all. She was normally a shy thing, anxious and just wanting to read her books. Just like how this wasn’t how Coco tended to talk. But anger made fools of everypony. “You know what? Fine! I’m tired of being underappreciated, I’m tired of you not caring about my art, I’m tired of you just being..” Coco wildly gestured towards the couch. “You! I’m leaving!” It wasn’t the first time that Coco had stormed out, and the way things were going, it wouldn’t be the last time. In fact, Moondancer didn’t even get up to stop her, instead grasping against the book with her magic again, a sigh escaping her as the door slammed behind Coco. She didn’t even have a coat. No time, and frankly, she didn’t care that much. Anywhere but there, anywhere but looking at the insufferable face of the mare she was supposed to love. The winter’s chill, the cold streets of Stalliongrad bit at her flesh as she left the small apartment the two shared, marching away and down the street.  Who cares where she went? Coco took the first door that she knew would be open, bars were always open. Coco stepped into the Hanged Mare with everything and nothing on her mind. Only, her thoughts about Moondancer fell away and quite quickly at that. Her pretty yellow face turned white from the sight in front of her, the chaos, the bloodshed unfathomable. Coco screamed, and ran as quickly as she could.