"I've been wondering if you could make a proper rope out of all these wicks," Wick Clip said. "The biggest and most obvious problem is length. I guess you can tie them together, but that's not going to hold too well and it certainly won't be pretty. But actually making a proper rope might be doable if you solved that, weaving them together."
"Don't you cut them from a longer thread?" asked the stallion. "Couldn't you make the rope with those?"
"Yeah, but that defeats the point," Wick said. "You can make an armour out of swords if you just use the metal to forge one, but that's not really what you'd ask that question for. The idea is to have a rope made with candle wicks, if you're cheating on that you might as well get a real rope."
"What do you need the rope for, anyway?" the stallion asked.
"That's the point. You don't need the rope. You're making one out of candle wicks for the sake of the aesthetic. That's why it's cheating to make it differently."
The stallion tilted his head to the side. "I think I get it now. Why did you come up with it?"
"I was thinking," Wick explained. "It was a while ago. I used to think about different things back then than what I think about now. You know how it is, the world starting to end and all."
"You don't know for sure the world is ending," the stallion replied. "Mine's beginning, you could even say. It's certainly going differently from how it was before, and it's more dangerous too, but it has its perks. It ought to be the same for you as well."
"I suppose you have a point. Different, sure. Not worse." Wick looked far off into the distance for a moment, despite the wall that should have cut the length of her gaze short. "Definitely not worse." She shook her head and focused back on the stallion. "I'm happy I get to hang around with you, at least. Surprising, but you're a lot more alright than I would have thought."
"Thank you," the stallion replied, smiling. "You're quite nice too. And your place is a very nice one to be in."
"It's not really my place. I don't own it, like you know."
The stallion shrugged. "Semantics. You use it and you make it feel distinctly you, it's your place by all means, even if it's not yours." He too looked into the distance, he too acting like he wasn't staring straight into a wall, though his look was more melancholic than the mare's had been. "My place is confined to myself, I suppose. Nowadays especially."
"Do you not have a house to go back to?" asked Wick, always curious to learn more about the stallion.
"One day. But I've changed much since it first was my house, and I'll change again before I go back. So it has as well and so it will with time." He sighed. "I'm not sure I can call it a home, as things are now. Though I can hope, at least."