Candle woke up later, but he wasn’t sure how long it had been; there was noise outside, and it was dark out. It sounded like revelers, maybe the party had already started? Zeffir hadn’t woken him up yet, so maybe it was early arrivals. A lot of maybes there.
Candle rolled onto his other side so he could look out into the darkened room. He was used to the dark, and his pupils expanded to fat ovals to drink in all of the available light. The room was simple, uncluttered; that seemed to be Zeffir’s style, at least from the brief examination he’d made on the way to his room. The bedspread was brightest thing there, and if he’d been looking for any of Zecora’s hoof-carved tribal masks, he was out of luck here. Hooks on the wall held a few necessities, like a patterned drape that might have been a winter coat, a battered satchel much like his own. Some books, a pointy-leaf plant growing in a blue-glazed pot. Books, and a box tucked neatly beside them. There were a few trinkets on high shelves; a few wooden carvings, animal figures it looked like. Something ragged and soft that might have once been a plush toy. Candle couldn’t mask his little grin; childhood toys, now that wasn’t something he had expected in a town guard’s room. But then, Zeffir wasn’t anything like what he had expected a guard to be, was he? Guards were something bat ponies were raised to fear, because they were the ones who watched the Everfree Forest with keen, predator eyes; but Zeffir was kind, and smart, and so curious about him. Zeffir was - different.
The creak of the door opening made Candle jump, and he instinctively snapped his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. He wasn’t certain what felt so forbidden about examining his host’s room, but he didn’t want to take the time to figure that out.
“Candle?” Zeffir called softly, entering his bedroom on light hooves. “Candle, it’s time for the party.”
Candle sat up in Zeffir’s bed, in what he hoped was a good approximation of someone waking up. He stretched his forelegs over his head, for good measure. “Thank you, Zeffir.”
“I thought you - oh!” Zeffir gasped, and the lamp he carried jerked and swayed precariously, making the shadows dance. “Your - your eyes.”
Candle met Zeffir’s eyes with his own bright green pair, the pupils still rounded in the semi-darkness. “Yes?”
“I was just getting used to the slits.” Zeffir admitted after a moment with an embarrassed chuckle. “I’ve never seen eyes like yours.”
“I haven’t seen many like yours, either.” Candle responded a little playfully, offering him a grin as he looked more deeply into Zeffir’s eyes. “Your pupils get bigger in the darkness too, don’t they?”
“I … suppose they do.” Zeffir agreed, holding still under Candle’s examination.
“I’ve never seen that happen.”
“That makes two of us.”
Candle stared at Zeffir, longer than he meant to; it was only when the air started to feel electric that he realized that he may have made a mistake. His pupils widened further than necessary as his heart raced, and tried to come up with something to say. “Well - we should probably -”
“The party is about to - no, you go ahead.” Zeffir smiled, and the moment was broken.
“ - sorry. I guess they’re all waiting for us, right?”
“Well, they can’t very well start the party without the guest of honor, can they?” Zeffir grinned again, and lifted the lamp to a larger lamp in his room, using the smaller flame to light it. It was a curious lamp style, one Candle had never seen; it was more like a glass orb that one carried with a rope, and the orb in Zeffir’s room was simply much larger and kept on a shelf. Candle had assumed it was another plant, inside the milky glass.
“I guess not.” Candle agreed, realizing that he might be waiting for an answer.
“I brought you something to wear - I don’t know what the customs are like in your home, but - well, we usually wear something like this.” Zeffir was nervous, that much was clear, and Candle wanted to do whatever it took to put him at ease. “And it’s getting colder out, at night, so it will keep you warm. But you don’t have to -”
“No, I’ll wear it!” Candle agreed readily, and his front hooves were already waiting by the time Zeffir turned around from where he’d been digging in a low chest, lifting out whatever it was that Candle was supposed to wear. It was a similar pattern to the bedspread, at least to Candle’s eyes; thick dark patterns on bright colors, reminding him faintly of stripes. If only Mom could see me now, Candle thought with amusement, bringing home my own stripes. The colors were nice, he thought; bright turquoise, contrasted with a pleasing lilac.
“I tried to match it to your mane. I mean - not me, I didn’t dye it, but I did help find the flowers to dye it with, so -” Zeffir was babbling a little bit, and Candle took the folded fabric out of his hooves to stop him.
“That’s amazing! It’s beautiful. Thank you, Zeffir. I’ve never had someone color match me before.” Candle smiled, and each tried to keep the other from noticing how pink they’d turned. It was true though, and suddenly it felt very - intimate. But Zeffir was just being a polite host… right? Ambassadorship was turning out to be a lot more difficult than Candle had anticipated!
“So, how do I get it on?” Candle asked, trying to break the awkward silence they’d managed to fall into.
“I can help! It’s very simple, it’s - here, like this.” And for a moment, the pair worked in grateful silence, glad to have something physical to put their focus towards.
It wasn’t complex as Candle had feared, seeing the fabric folded thickly in Zeffir’s forelegs; it was simply quite long. It was something like a poncho, with long, striped fabric that draped over the body, and a simple hole for his head. It would hide his wings nicely, Candle noted with no small relief, and it was warm. And soft! Briefly, Candle wondered if he would be allowed to keep it, or if it was simply to signify his welcome.
“Very nice.” Zeffir agreed, and gazed at him for a moment before he turned, sharper than he needed to. “There’s a mirror on the back of my door - I should get dressed, too. Find me when you are ready to go?”
“Okay.” Candle agreed, and almost before the words were out of his mouth, Zeffir was gone. Well, someone was in a hurry! Candle did want to look less like a scruffy sailor-pony when he appeared before Zeffir’s friends, though, so he took a few moments to wash his face, to comb his mane, and give his ear tufts a little twirl. He wasn’t just representing himself, but all of bat pony kind! That was a very big deal, he reminded himself; no need to get hung up on how large and dark and handsome his host’s eyes were in the darkened room.
He admired himself in Zeffir’s mirror for a moment, considering himself; he was quite pleased with the effect, over all. The turquoise complemented both his lilac hair and his stormy-grey coat, and if he squinted a little bit, the striped patterns might have almost passed him for a zebra, himself. He might make a good zebra! And speaking of good zebras, it was time to find his host and go meet his host’s friends!
Candle emerged from the bedroom expecting to see a party, but it was only Zeffir who stood there, wearing his own poncho-like outfit, waiting by the door. His drape also had notes of turquoise and lilac, but there was also pink, and some yellow. He looked like he’d taken some time to neaten himself up too, Candle thought. “I thought the party would be starting already?”
Zeffir turned to look at him, and offered him a slow smile. “Oh, it has.”
“Well, where is everyone?”
“In the town center, of course. Are you ready?”
Candle’s pace slowed a little. “How big is this party?”
“Well, everypony wants to meet you.” Zeffir’s smile was wide now. “You look nice.”
“Thank you, so do you. How many is everypony?” Candle asked, and it was a sign of his growing worry that he skipped right over Zeffir’s compliment.
Zeffir’s smile faded a little, realizing Candle’s confusion. “Most of the village, I think.”
“The whole village?!”
“Is that not okay?”
“Well, I - I mean, it’s your party, I’m just - it’s a lot more people than have ever come to any of my parties.” Candle admitted, trying to slow the way his heartbeat was starting to race. This ambassador business was getting too real too fast!
“You will not have to meet all of them, I promise.” Zeffir soothed him, lowering his head a little so he could meet Candle’s gaze more closely. “Most of them are just there to have fun, and to eat good food. If it is too much for you, I will bring you home. I mean - back here.” Zeffir corrected himself, and his left ear gave a little twist, back and forth. “We can have a signal, if you like.”
“A - signal?” Candle was already overwhelmed by the prospect of Zeffir leaning close and promising to protect him; the idea of a codeword was going to overwhelm him quickly if he didn’t keep taking deep breaths. “What if I start talking about - my mother’s scarf?”
Zeffir considered Candle very seriously, and nodded. “I understand. Mother’s scarf is our secret word.”
The prospect of a secret kept only between him and Zeffir threatened to overwhelm him just as much as the idea of a massive party did. Candle took a deep breath, swallowed back his nerves, and offered Zeffir his best attempt at a brave smile. “Well, I guess we better go, right? Are they waiting for us?”
“They can wait. The party cannot start without the guest of honor,” Zeffir smiled again, and Candle had to concentrate very closely on his hooves, as he was afraid he might trip over himself if he was thrown any more off balance.
It seemed the entire town was caught up in the celebration, and the thrum of music in the air was all but deafening for Candle, even with his ear plugs. Luckily, almost none of them seemed to take notice of Candle and Zeffir as they made their way to the town center, but their loud conversations only added to the din. The pair weren’t able to talk on their way to the party, but Zeffir kept an eye on Candle, occasionally waiting up for him when his step slowed.
Candle didn’t know how Zeffir kept walking as briskly as he did; every way he looked, there was something new and exciting to see. Strings of lights were hung up all around the village, so many it was dizzying, and now and again he’d catch sight of a moth circling one in its whirling flight. Streamers! Banners! Bright colors on every swash of fabric, so much that it left him a little lightheaded. Every now and again they’d pass a window lit from within, and Candle caught sight of entirely new worlds unfolding before him. Families, children, partners, so familiar yet so strange. More rooms with the domed glass lights, the brightly-colored and striped drapes, foods he had never heard of plated on dishes with patterns he couldn’t name, and stripes! So many stripes! It was enough to make a bat pony cross eyed!
“Are you ready to say hello?” Zeffir asked gently, pausing so that he could pull Candle aside before they reached the very center of town. Candle could see the fountain, which he recognized from earlier that day. It was almost unrecognizable, with candles floating in the water, dishes of food resting on its diameter, and streamers strung between it and poles at the edge of the square. There were so many and they were hung so thickly that they created something like a tent for the various zebras to dance and chat beneath.
Candle gave his head a little shake, trying to clear his thoughts from where they swirled. Despite all of the beauty that surrounded him, dizzying in its intensity, the familiar grip of worry took hold of his midsection.
“No?”
“No! I mean - yes! I’m ready,” Candle clarified rapidly, his heart racing into his throat. It’s okay. This is okay. It’s just a party; everyone wants to meet you. Nothing scary here.
Zeffir’s smile was fond where it landed on him, but Candle had hardly any time to appreciate it before he was guiding him to the center of the square. A warm cheer rose around them, and suddenly they were surrounded.
“Candle, this is the mayor of our town. Mayor Clax, meet Candle, the batpony ambassador.”
“Candle! I’ve heard exciting things - very exciting things!” Clax shook Candle’s hoof so enthusiastically Candle was a little afraid he might get a sprain. Clax was much like their elected leaders; warm, effusive, just this side of sincere. He was the right age too, just beginning to grow a paunch. “My wife, Zithandra!”
“A pleasure to meet you, Candle!” Zithandra smiled warmly, and it was her turn to shake Candle’s hoof within an inch of his life.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both as well, Mayor Clax, Zithandra. Thank you so much for all of your hospitality, it means a great deal to myself personally as well as to the bat ponies back home.” Phew! That came out pretty elegantly, if Candle wasn’t being too humble!
“Glad to hear it, glad to hear it! Of course we have the members of the town council here tonight -” and from there everything devolved, and Candle had to struggle to keep up with each name as it was rapidly rattled off, trying to keep names with faces. The zebra whose stripes were so dense that his face was almost solid grey - that was Zanther? No, that was Zithromax, Zanther had the blue stripes and the laugh like his father’s. They were all friendly enough, but by the end, Candle was ready to hide at the refreshment table for the rest of the night.
“Oh! And to honor your arrival, and your contribution to the town - a toast!” Clax took up a glass half filled with an amber liquid and held it out to Candle. Candle tried to give it a subtle sniff while the others were busy filling their own glasses, and found it pungent, but pleasantly fruity. “A toast: To Candle and Zeffir, may their bond and the town’s strength grow - ever stronger - oh, you know what I mean!”
Clax and the town council laughed, and they all took a deep draught from their glasses; not wanting to be rude, Candle did the same. The drink burned, but only a little; mostly it was sweet and fruity. The burn left his lips pleasantly tingly, and he gave them a little lick as he glanced at Zeffir.
“You don’t have to drink it,” Zeffir offered gently. His own drink was half gone now, Candle noted. “It’s fermented.”
“It’s good! I like it,” Candle smiled at Zeffir, and he returned it, a little tightly. Perhaps Candle wasn’t the only one having some nerves that night.
“And now - we dance!” Clax shouted, and the rest of the crowd took up a cry of agreement.
Candle laughed, but anything he said was drowned out in the roar of conversation that sprung up around them as they were suddenly surrounded. Everypony wanted to shake his hoof, to say hello; half of those friendly greetings felt more like pretenses to get a closer look at his eyes or ears. He wasn’t used to being gawped at, but Candle did his best to be polite, even when their eyes were anywhere but his face. He stayed close to Zeffir, and occasionally Zeffir stepped in, putting himself in front of him just enough that the offending conversationalist had to back off.
It felt very protective, these motions, and Candle continually reminded himself that this was Zeffir’s job as a guard, even though each time made his heart race a little faster. He drank more of the fruity drink in the hopes the burning might distract him from his anxiety, and it worked - a little too well.
He felt a little bit like he was riding on a warm cloud for the rest of the night, and allowed Zeffir to guide him around the courtyard with an agreeable sort of buzz. At one point, after most of the dancers had left to mill around the food tables, Zeffir gently guided Candle back to the fountain, where they had set up what looked like … well, a mess, if Candle was being unkind. But he wasn’t so lost in his warm cloud yet that he couldn’t control his tongue, so he kept it in his mouth, and considered the setup with polite curiosity.
“That’s the shaman,” Zeffir whispered as an older zebra appeared, draped in robes similar to theirs. Candle realized, a little abruptly, that most of the other zebras there weren’t wearing the same drapes that he and Zeffir did; most of them wore nothing at all, as was typical among ponykind. He supposed if he was the special guest, it did make sense to dress him up in the local garb.
And the same must be said for the shaman! But this one was special, and as she came closer, he realized what it was that stood out to him: wings. Striped, in the same pattern that matched the stripes on her face (purple on red), and as she walked they fluttered! The other zebras took notice of them as well, and Candle cast a sidelong look to Zeffir. He’d never seen a zebra with wings before!
“There are not many of our kind with wings or horns,” Zeffir explained in a low voice, watching as the shaman spoke with the mayor and town council. “They are often called to higher duties, or at least that’s what zebras believe.”
“What is a shaman?” Candle asked, his voice similarly soft.
“You don’t have bat pony shamans?” Zeffir asked, his brows lifted. “Well, it’s sort of like a mayor, I suppose; they’re generally elected, or selected from a pool of candidates. They keep track of important moments, they have registers of births, deaths -”
The shaman spoke, suddenly, in a loud voice that startled Candle. While they had been whispering, she had taken a place at the center of the square, and was in fact fluttering just above the fountain. Every zebra watched closely as she spoke, and Candle could make out exactly none of it. It had to be something that the others understood, though, because there was a call and response section, and Candle stood awkwardly as the zebras surrounding him responded in one loud voice. He was content to stand, until suddenly the ponies around the fountain began to move.
What Candle had assumed was a mess was, actually, something to do with the shaman; as the group of robed zebras (and Candle) began to circle the fountain, very slowly, they took their time interacting with each object. First there was water, poured on the ground in what Candle had assumed was a spilled drink. Zeffir stepped neatly over it, then watched until Candle followed him. Next was a series of sharp-looking rocks, and with a quiet direction from Zeffir, the pair found safe places to place their hooves. Then there was a - well, it was fire, but it was only a line of candles, small and squat, burning warmly. The zebras in front of them lifted their drapes before they jumped, and landed together on the other side, laughing.
“Are you okay to jump, with your wings underneath the fabric?” Zeffir asked, considering Candle from the edges of his eyes. His face looked damp, Candle realized suddenly; he must have been very nervous.
“Yes. I’m a good jumper. Are you?” Candle tried to offer him a reassuring smile.
“Pretty good,” Zeffir smiled. “On three? One, two -”
And the pair leapt neatly over the fire wall, and despite how small the hurdle was, Candle felt himself very nearly giddy with elation as he landed. A glance to Zeffir confirmed that he was feeling the same sort of excitement, and the pair shared a quick smile.
As each group of ponies progressed past each object, the shaman would intone something new in her deep, melodious voice, although it still made no sense to Candle. (It seemed like it might be rude for Zeffir to translate; no one else was speaking, after all.) As they reached the end of the candles and found themselves at the water again, the shaman fluttered down to stand in front of them. Candle swallowed, tightly, and he felt Zeffir tense at his side. She was quite magnetic, and seeing her up close felt a little bit like standing next to a bonfire when it was hotly raging.
“Zeffir: ?nwo ruoy ton si taht efil a ot eit eht ,nevig yleerf si taht dnob eht tpecca uoy oD”
“Sey,” Zeffir responded, and glanced down at Candle, offering him the tiniest of smiles. He was definitely nervous. Candle returned the smile, and it seemed to comfort him, at least a little.
“Candle the bat pony: ?nwo ruoy ton si taht efil a ot eit eht ,nevig yleerf si taht dnob eht tpecca uoy oD”
Candle tensed sharply; he had no clue what she was saying, or what he should reply! But she was staring at him, and the entire crowd seemed to be staring at him. That’s not true, that’s just your fear, Candle tried to reassure himself tightly, just take a deep breath. He did, and he felt a little better - but not a lot.
“You can say what I said, if - if you want.” Zeffir spoke quietly, his large ears twisting back and forth, and he offered Candle a nervous smile.
“Um - sey,” Candle responded, mimicking Zeffir, and it must have been the right thing, because a wild cheer went up in the crowd, and the pegasus offered them a warm smile.
“.eb ti llahs oS !nekorb eb reven slairt latnemele ruof eht fo enrob dnob eht tel ;enod eb ti llahs os ,dias si ti oS” the pegasus called over the laughter and clapping of the crowd, and those that were listening closely enough shouted back to her, ‘.eb ti llahs oS’
Candle glanced at Zeffir, and the pair shared a quick, nervous smile. Candle opened his mouth to ask what had just happened, but then another pair of zebras were almost on top of them, all smiles, holding out a pair of glasses to them. And Candle wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew that he liked the drink! And it seemed rude to ask ‘what just happened’ in front of two other smiling zebras in matching drapes.
The rest of the evening passed in a bit of a haze, aided by the drink; zebras kept offering them to Candle, and he was afraid to appear rude by turning them down. Each zebra seemed so earnestly excited to meet him! At one point Candle was aware that Zeffir was pressing him into a chair, insisting that he needed to sit and eat something; the next thing he was aware of was being carried back towards Zeffir’s house.
Candle reached up to pull one of the earplugs from his large, tufted ear. They were quite far from the party by now, and it was quiet enough that he wasn’t assaulted by the roar of the party. It was faint, coming from up the street, but far enough away that it added flavor to the night instead of pain. “What happened? Why are we going home?”
Zeffir chuckled, and shifted him a little where he carried him on his back. Candle was aware, very suddenly, of Zeffir’s broad, muscular neck where it rested against his cheek. “You fell asleep at the table. You tried to roll upside down - I found you when your hind hooves were up near the mayor’s ears.”
Candle blushed hotly. “I didn’t - I didn’t mean to!” his words came out thickly, and they felt harder to get out; maybe he should have refused a few more of those fruity drinks, Candle was realizing rapidly.
“It’s alright,” Zeffir’s voice was gentle in the darkness, soft for his benefit. “I told them bat ponies sleep upside down. They were all too impressed by bat pony ingenuity to be bothered that I was taking you home.”
“Home sounds good,” Candle replied sleepily, his eyelids already growing heavy once more. “Thank you for carrying me, Zeffir. I can walk.”
“Can you?” Zeffir chuckled, and shook his head gently, making no motion to let him down. “If you’re still awake by the end of this street, then I’ll let you walk home.”
“Okay,” Candle agreed, and kept his eyes glued on the street corner. He could do this! He’d feel better after walking, he was certain!
Candle woke up next as Zeffir was tucking him into his bed.
“I was gonna walk!” Candle whined, eyes mostly closed as he blinked up at the blurry shape of Zeffir in the darkness.
Zeffir chuckled, the sound low in his chest, as he helped pull the brightly-patterned cloak off of Candle. “I know you were. But I couldn’t bear to wake you.”
Candle huffed out a little sigh as his head hit the pillow, mostly limp as Zeffir undressed him. “I could walk.”
“Next time,” Zeffir promised. Zeffir was a little wobbly himself, taking a slightly curving path to where he hung Candle’s drape on a hook, but Candle was too far gone to notice.
“Maybe no next time. Next time, I’ll be rude and just say no,” Candle huffed, and nosed at his pillow, frowning to himself. “I miss my tree.” He wouldn’t have said it if he was sober, no doubt, but it seemed to slip free without his usual precautions in place.
Zeffir considered him for a moment, then reached down, plucking the pillow with his teeth and depositing it under his hind hooves. “There. Now your hooves are where your head should be. Isn’t that how bat ponies sleep?”
Candle blinked, and wriggled down into the blanket, eyes closing. “Perfect.”
Zeffir laughed. “Good night, Candle.”
Candle was already falling asleep, and too tired to make any fuss when Zeffur bent down to nuzzle the spot right between his oversized, tufted ears. Sober Candle would have fretted about it half the night; drunk Candle fell straight asleep.