//------------------------------// // Chapter Twenty-Five // Story: For Lack of a Better Word // by Gunsmith //------------------------------// I've always wondered about consciousness, just the general idea of it. How the mind has two parts, the conscious and the brain, the former to listen to one's own thoughts: the voice in one's head, that only they can hear, has to be heard somehow to be registered. Not only consciousness, but unconsciousness, as well. Perhaps when one is not aware of themselves and their surroundings, their mind does something else, rather than just go inactive. Maybe when one is unconscious, they become conscious somewhere else. I wonder to myself why I'm thinking philosophically right upon waking up, and decide to save that kind of thinking for another time, maybe when I'm bored. My mind already fully awake and active, the rest of me slowly follows suit. I feel warm, an outside warmth that warms me on the inside as well, filling me with a peace I haven't felt for a long time, but is now sort of a regular thing, as of a short time ago, relatively. I don't think I could live without this warmth; I know I couldn't live without what generates this warmth. Already I know what it is, but the soft brush of fur on my chest, the touch of a mane like silk spilling over one of my arms and a little onto my neck, the slow, steady breaths glancing off my skin, the press of a lean and muscular yet gentle and soft against my side remind me further what lays within my grasp. An intoxicating scent of high-altitude air and a just-discernible hint of spice reaches my nose; a light, cute snore fills the air as I feel a breathing chest press against my own. I open my eyes, looking around the room as I always do. The second floor of my house, my home, my second home, I suppose, is quiet, peacefully basked in morning light that spreads over the covers of my bed, all the way to me, where I can feel some of the warmth beaming onto my face. The room is fairly empty, save for my bed and a bookcase; atop the bookcase lies a pair of items I don't leave home without, a tomahawk and a dagger, within the bookcase are around twenty or so books, all of the same series. I'm on the eighth Daring Do book, I think, Daring Do and the Curse of the Golden Idol. It's actually a very immersing series; I can see why the pony who lent them all to me enjoys them so much. My gaze shifts down, towards my chest; that very pony happens to be curled up against me, fast asleep. Her forelegs are wrapped around me tightly in a bear hug of sorts. I smile to myself as she snores again, not very loudly. My right arm already draped over her neck, I move my hand to reach her colorful mane, running my fingers slowly through each of the six colors in the rainbow. After a moment longer of watching her sleep, I carefully tilt my head a little farther down. I lightly rub my nose against hers, listening as her breathing quickens a little and feeling her start to shift around. Light blue eyelids open, revealing big, beautiful, rose eyes. As they come into focus, they meet my own steel-blue eyes, then close again. Rainbow Dash smiles tiredly, nuzzling me back. I return my head to the pillow, watching her happily as she continues waking up. She stretches under the covers, her tail swishing a little so that some of it drapes over my legs. A contented sigh, the tired, but happy, smile remaining on her lips. She goes back into a state of what seems like sleep for a minute, but eventually stretches again, then opens her eyes, more awake now. The sky-blue Pegasus cranes her neck up to me, and I lean down to meet her in a kiss. Even her tired kisses have a flame of passion within them, and always manage to warm me with the ever-present spiciness. It still amazes me how such a tough pony--on the outside--can be so tender and loving; and I wouldn't have her any other way. We slowly pull apart, smiling at one another. After a moment, I stroke my hand along one of her wings, the texture of the downy feathers caressing my fingers. My touch shifts to her back, which I gently rub. She hums happily, then together, we start to leave the bed. Once out of the grasp of the blankets, I reach under my bed, grabbing a neatly folded set of clean clothes, my usual matte black T-shirt and blue jeans, as well as socks and the like. Snatching the two bladed weapons off the bookcase, I rejoin Dash at the stairs. The clip-clop of her hooves seems much louder in the quiet of morning as we walk across the open first-floor room. I push open the door to the bathroom, followed in by Rainbow. I start going about my daily business, as does she, eventually stripping off what little clothes I have on and climbing into the shower, flipping on the hot water. After a minute, the light blue pony joins me, taking care to step into the shower rather than fly in; if her wings get very wet, she can't fly. I turn towards her, bracing myself a little, then she leaps towards me, caught neatly in my arms. Smiling as I hold her against me, the water slowly wetting down her mane, fur, and wings, I kiss her moist, soft lips, hot water streaming down my face. We break apart, then lock lips again for a deep kiss. Pulling away after a long time, I look at her with a grin, receiving one in reply. I proceed to set her down on floor of the bathtub again, then grab a bar of soap. I'm actually the only one that needs the shower, given that ponies don't need to bathe on a daily basis to stay clean. Dash gets my back for me, getting a few kisses on the neck for her effort. I eventually hop out of the shower, wet pony in trail. Grabbing a towel, she lets me dry her off, first, then myself, which ends up making me smell sort of spicy, not that I mind a bit. I slip on my clean clothes, sliding the hatchet into its usual belt loop and grabbing the dagger in my right hand. As Rainbow Dash begins preening her feathers, I give myself a rough shave; I don't really like being entirely clean-shaven, actually, so it suits me just fine. The portion of my daily routine involving the bathroom complete, Rainbow and I walk back into the main room. I notice Tank lies on the couch, happily asleep; the sky-blue mare trots over towards the tortoise to wake and greet him. I decide to make some oatmeal for breakfast, because why not, it's the weekend. Getting out a pot, I fill it with water and place it on the stove, turning on the heat. I grab a bag of oats and the bag of apples from the cabinets before me, and on further thought, grab a small vial of cinnamon, as well. As I let the water heat to boiling, I turn, leaning against the counters. I watch Rainbow Dash give a light hoof-bump to the reptile, who is not wearing his aviation gear, given he's in my house rather than in the clouds. This is how I like my home. A tired, lazy, weekend morning, cooking some breakfast that should probably be called lunch at the hour we're up, my small family here with me. I'm glad figuring out a good living arrangement wasn't too difficult. They come here for a week, I go to their house for a week. Each has its perks. Here, I have access to all of the stuff I use to cook with, so I can teach Rainbow more easily, and I can get to my job, if one can call it that, just by taking a short walk. Dash doesn't like being here all the time, though, since not everything can be napped on comfortably and there isn't much space to fly around in. So, I go to her house every other week. It's always nice up there, like a vacation every couple of weeks. Still, I have a tendency to not be able to fly, so getting to work is a lot harder, and I usually have to get up with Dash so she can lower me to the ground every couple of days or so; not that I mind. Having to get up earlier than normal is an easily disregarded compromise for getting to wake up with her every day. I pour the oats in to the now-boiling water, turning down the heat. I pull my tomahawk from my belt, grabbing an apple, as well. Dicing up a few apples, I toss them into the pot of cooking oatmeal, along with a dash or two of cinnamon. I take out another apple, setting it aside, then put away the oats and apples. Turning again, I let the oatmeal continue to cook. The rainbow-maned mare trots over towards me, sniffing the air. "Mmm...whatcha' makin'?" she asks, her scratchy voice that I find very cute sounding soft in the quiet air of morning. I smile, grabbing the pot by its handle and lowering it down for her to see; I know she doesn't want to hover to see it because of all the wind her wings make. Blows things around too much, especially in my fairly small house. "Oats?" I tilt my hand back and forth for a moment; sort of. She nods, smiling to me before hopping up into a chair at the table. I grab a spoon from a cupboard, given I don't have any drawers--maybe a project for later--and stir up the oatmeal, deeming it ready. The magical flame in the burner goes off, and I get out a pair of bowls, distributing the oatmeal between them. I take the bowls, and the spare apple, to the table, setting one bowl before Rainbow, the other before the other empty seat, and the apple off to the side of the table. I walk over to the couch, carefully grabbing Tank by the shell before carrying him over to the table, where I set him down before the apple. The three of us begin a late breakfast. I'm happy to see that Rainbow Dash seems to enjoy the oatmeal. Despite the fact it's quite hot, she scarfs it down. I suppose oats and apples are a good combination, especially for a pony. I casually eat mine while Dash grabs a second bowl. Tank takes his time, as usual. It's not too bad, for homemade oatmeal. More cinnamon might have been better, but I digress, finishing off my breakfast as the light blue pony across from me finishes her seconds. I clean up the bowls, depositing them in the sink to wash later. The tortoise is still working on his apple, so I leave him be, returning to the table. "You need to show me how to make that stuff sometime," Rainbow comments. I nod in agreement, pleased that she's pleased. She smiles warmly to me, and we just look at each other for a long time. Her magenta eyes are so easy to get lost in; the calm light in the room seems to intensify the energy, the adventurousness, the friendliness, the kindness in her eyes. Her gaze breaks after some time, flicking down to Tank. We watch the tortoise eat his apple for some time, smiling at the slowness of his pace. The Pegasus stirs after a few minutes, snapping out of her trance. "Feel like going out to the lake today? I need to get in some more Wonderbolts practice," Dash asks with a hopeful smile. She and I both very well know that she really doesn't need any practice, at all; but getting to see her fly is an offer I never refuse. I feign deep thought for a moment, even going so far as to stroke my chin. She reaches across the table, slugging me on the shoulder. Chuckling, I nod happily to her. "Awesome!" Her focus drops to her, and I suppose my, pet tortoise. "Tank, be a good colt while we're gone, 'kay? No parties. Especially no Pinkie Pie parties, got it?" The reptile begins a very, very slow nod. "Good," says the sky-blue pony. With a smile, she quickly rubs her snout against Tank's, giving him a pat on the shell afterwards. Rainbow Dash picks him up, setting him on the wooden floor, followed by his half-eaten apple. She hops out of her chair, flaring out her wings and strutting a little for me. I give her a sly smile in reply, standing from the table as well. We walk together to the door; I wave a goodbye to Tank, who has gone back to eating his apple. Outside, Dash jumps into the air, going into her usual hover. Despite seeming to use her wings a lot more than her legs, even for just a stroll through town, her legs are still in impeccable shape, and she can run like the wind. How did lazy old me get a catch like you? I silently question to her as I admire her. My thoughts begins to drift; maybe later. I really do want to see her fly right now, despite how much I want...that, as well. I don't remember when I decided to hell with the laws of nature, given that they're almost entirely different here. There are actually a lot of inter-species relationships, given that nearly everything is sentient. I think it was a few weeks ago I decided that. We were given the okay by Twilight; to say the least, she was grossed out, but didn't necessarily frown upon the whole ordeal. No reaction, no horrific mutants, which is certainly better than okay with me. It still took a while after that before I warmed up to the idea without a swell of what I thought to be long-dead emotion, but...well, it's hard not to be attracted to her, at least at this point. Boy, wouldn't Mom and Dad be proud. I snort softly in self-amusement. Oddly enough, it seems like they'd understand. Especially given the whole thrown-into-another-universe-for-the-rest-of-my-natural-life thing. Maybe they would be proud, sarcasm aside. I make a living helping people, ponies, have a house of my own, made a few friends, good ones, and have someone I can call my own, even if she is a talking, technicolor Pegasus pony. I sidestep a foal trotting along with their mother, my focus returning to the world around me for a moment. I give a bashful smile to the mother in apology for nearly stepping on her kid; to my mild surprise, she returns the smile. That's something nice. It's taken, what? Two, three months? But, the locals have finally started to warm up to me. Remarkably, it seemed like when they realized Rainbow Dash and I were dating, they started to actually treat me like a normal citizen. Even having a pony simply brush past me is almost astounding, but very welcome. Maybe they thought that because the local Element of Loyalty, savior of quite a few citizens, and only pony with the capability to break the sound barrier while also disrupting the light spectrum trusted me so much, they could, too. And maybe not. I'm still trying to figure out how ponies tick. They're different from humans, mentality-wise, but only with certain things. Has it really been three months? It doesn't feel like it, not at all. It feels like I've been here my whole life, yet at the same time, like I woke up in the very field we are headed towards only yesterday. Time, the ultimate deceiver. I shake my head a little, clearing my thoughts and looking over at Rainbow Dash. The pony catches my eye, doing a quick corkscrew for me. I smile, amused. She begins flying circles around me as I continue to walk down one of the many dirt roads of Ponyville. I watch her until my head spins. Without warning, she latches onto my back, as she'll sometimes do. A tight squeeze around my upper and lower torso, and a giggle as I reach back and ruffle her mane with a hand. She lays her chin against my shoulder, rubbing a soft cheek against my neck. I like that she doesn't really care when it comes to public displays of affection. I figured her tough-girl attitude would cause her to shy away from anything that would make her look weak or soft, but I suppose it actually works in the exact opposite way: she's confident enough to figure she can be openly affectionate without anyone questioning her toughness. Plus, I'm sure nearly everyone realizes challenging her toughness is a death wish; and possibly, everyone suspects I might have some alien tricks up my sleeve, like breathing fire or something. All-in-all, we don't get questioned, and we like it that way. I receive a few tender kisses on the neck, causing me to smile. I shift my grip on her legs around a bit, getting her to a position more comfortable for me on my back. I wish I could just have her like this all the time, right by my side, or on my back in this case. The irrational fears the the brain always creates constantly fill my head when I'm away from her. What if something happens to her, to me? What if the last time I saw her will really be the last? But then I see her again, and everything's okay. Maybe it's a result of what happened so long ago. Despite how much I just want to cling to her and keep her safe, I know I can't, because it would hold her back. And I don't want to hold her back. I want her to be free, to fly, to be there with me when I go into the Everfree, to be the best Wonderbolt in the history of Wonderbolts, or be the best weatherpony in the history of weatherponies, whatever she chooses. I want her to be happy, and I know trying to keep her safe would keep her from being happy. We pass by the last houses marking the reaches of the town, entering the outskirts. Dash jumps off of my back, going into a hover beside me again. I watch as she does a tight loop before resuming flying along steadily. I smile to myself, anticipating whatever tricks she'll do today. Soon, I find the grass up to my shins, brushing off the legs of my pants as I walk along. We continue deeper into the field, and upon reaching what seems to be the center, I feel a blast of air to my side, signaling Rainbow Dash's excited take-off into the sky. Smiling to myself, I lay back in the grass, trying to resist the urge to take a quick nap as the Pegasus begins her aerobatics. *** I awake to a light pressure on my chest, like one might feel when they go underwater a short distance from the surface. I open my eyes, blinking a few times; I don't even know why I went to sleep again, given how I felt pretty awake this morning. Before my gaze shifts down to see what is pressing on me, I note that the sky is starting to darken. I frown, scolding myself for falling asleep while watching Dash. I probably missed a lot of her tricks. Remembering the feeling on my torso, I look down at myself. Atop me lies the familiar sky-blue Pegasus, sound asleep. The upper half of her body rests against my chest, her rump on the ground. Her wings are lazily outstretched, and her mane is astray in some areas from the wind. Maybe I didn't miss as much of her show as I thought. I carefully bring up my left hand, finding that my right lies upon her colorful mane already, and move it towards one of the semi-limp wings reaching out from her back. I gently run the tips of my fingers along the edge of her wing, admiring it. She stirs a little, her wing twitching. Rainbow makes a little humming noise of content. My hand traces over each of her feathers, taking in their light, soft texture. After a moment longer, I put my left hand behind my head, stroking her mane with my right. She cracks open an eye, revealing a sliver of gorgeous cerise. I smile warmly to her, and she does the same, opening her eyes all the way. I give her a quick scratch behind the ear, then go to sit up, letting her stand up off of me. While I'm eye level with her, sitting on the ground, I gaze at her for a while. She holds my stare, smiling to me. A few seconds later, she moves in for a kiss, which I accept readily. My mouth is filled with the most wonderful taste in the world, my nose with the most wonderful smell, my body with the most wonderful warmth. Her tongue meets mine at one point, as we continue to kiss deeply, not wanting to let go of one another. We eventually have to come up for air, though, and break apart slowly. Working her mane in between my fingers, I rub her cheek with my thumb. She smiles happily; I push myself to my feet. I find myself looking over towards Luna Lake, not very far from here. It seems like a good way to finish off another day. I look down to Rainbow Dash, pointing out to the lake and giving her a look of question. She follows my outstretched arm, then upon seeing what I'm pointing towards, nods, showing a warm smile. Her leaping into the air beside me, we walk through the field, heading for the small body of water that glistens with the reflection of the still-wholly-visible ball of fire hanging over the distant horizon. We sit down on the bank together, the small pony scooting up to my side. I drape my arm over her back as she leans against my shoulder, setting her head atop it. I rest my cheek on top of her mane, savoring the silky feeling of her colorful hair against my face. Her mane smells so nice; then again, all of her does. I hear Dash emit a small giggle. She's mentioned before that I'm weird, or that the things I do are weird; but also that she likes me that way. I guess it is sort of weird that I'm always smelling her mane, or touching her wings, though she seems to like that quite a bit, or tracing my hand around one of her soft yet diamond-hard hooves, or touching her cutie mark, on occasion. It's just because she's so different, interesting, though; she smells really good, all the time, and her wings are really soft, even softer than the rest of her, and hooves are odd with their sort of magnetic powers, and the small current of electricity that flows through me when I touch her cutie mark is something else entirely. She's as cool and awesome on the outside as she is on the inside, put simply. Watching the sun on its way down, I think of nightfall, which leads to thinking of the moon, which gives me an idea. I owe it to a certain princess of the night for bringing me here in the first place. Without her ancient spell, whether the current her meant to do it or not, I would not have been brought to Equestria. I wouldn't have been taken away from my menial, worthless life that probably had no future, given my inability to get past my memories. I wouldn't have found myself a job, in a sense, where I find myself truly happy doing, and where I'm actually doing something worthwhile. And I wouldn't have found the best girl, woman, mare, whatever she deserves to be called, in the universe, in any universe. I have a lot to thank that princess for. For the first time today, I remove the folded paper and now-fairly-short pencil from my pocket, seeing and feeling Rainbow remove her head from my shoulder out of curiosity. There's still a good amount of light left in the sky, the sun just now changing to a red-orange hue, so I have enough time to write a nice, well-written letter to Princess Luna. I smooth out the sheet of paper, laying it against my leg for support. I lift my pencil to the top of the page, Rainbow Dash watching me intently. Dear Princess Luna, I pause, shifting my hand down a little ways. I take in a slow, deep breath, letting it out in a sigh of thought. Frowning, I try to think of where to start. There's so much to tell her, to thank her, to let her know she shouldn't feel any remorse for what she did long ago...but I don't know where to begin, or how to say it. I sit for some time, the Pegasus beside me looking up in question every so often. My gaze moves to the lake spanning out across from us for a moment. I figure out what I should write; instead of continuing on the page, I grab a new one from my pocket, unfolding it as nicely as I can before carefully writing as legibly and neatly as I can muster. Dear Princess Luna, Thank you. --Mark I stare at the paper, reading it over a few times. I think she'll understand. I'm about to lean forward and set the page off into the lake when a light blue hoof makes its way to my arm, stopping me. I look over at Rainbow in question. "Can you tell her I said thanks, too?" she asks with a small, kind smile. I smile back, bringing the paper back to my leg and focusing on my handwriting again. I add a phrase to the bottom of the letter. P.S. Rainbow Dash says thanks, too. The rainbow-maned pony grins up at me, nodding her head in satisfaction. I grab one edge of the paper, holding it over to Dash. She continues to smile, grabbing the opposite edge with her hoof. Together, we lean as far as we can forward, releasing the paper over the sparkling water of the lake. It floats gently down to the surface, and upon reaching it, begins its trip to the center of Luna Lake, pulled by forces unseen. We watch it as it sails out, a tiny boat upon a great, red ocean. It eventually slows to a stop in the middle of the water, then promptly vanishes with a trail of mist in its wake. I look over at Rainbow Dash, smiling to her. Her rose eyes sparkle up at me as she smiles back, laying her head against me again. I return my arm around her back, feeling the brush of an outstretched wing against my own. For the first time in a very long time, I feel at peace. Peace that has come to me on its own, not forced upon me by sleep, death, or the magical aura of a talking pony princess. And it feels good. I feel like I understand why life is worth living; for moments like this, watching another day come to an end with someone I care about more than anything in the world. And really, that's all it boils down to, in the end; the little things in life. Or maybe it's the really big ones. Either way. It's not having a job, or a house, or being successful, or failing miserably; it's being happy. Happy because it's funny that someone thinks you're a mythical creature called 'Bighoof', happy because of the feeling that comes from helping out someone in need, happy to have survived a dire situation, happy because of spending time with those one loves. That's what counts: being happy. "I love you." I snap back to reality, blinking a few times and looking over at Rainbow Dash, who is now starting to look at me, as well. Did she say that to me? That didn't sound like her, though, I think rapidly, starting to get confused. Recalling the voice in my short-term memory, I remember it as sounding much deeper than her voice, not scratchy like hers is, though it did have a certain roughness to it, as if the speaker was sick or something. It sounded male, actually, a deep, male voice. Where did that come from? Why did it sound so close? I'm tempted to look around, but I know no one else is here, so-- "You...you talked," Rainbow whispers, bringing my focus back to her. My face twists in some surprise. Wait, what? I what? "Oh my gosh...you talked. You actually talked!" I did? She pulls away from me a little in excitement. "Oh my gosh!" she repeats. "You talked! You talked!" Her whole face is lit up with shock and excitement. "I can't believe it! You, you said..." she trails off for a moment, her eyes changing. "I...I love you, too." Dash looks into my eyes, hers shimmering a little with what seem to be tears of happiness. I realize she's responding to the voice, to...my voice. Something feels like it's building in my chest, something along the lines of overwhelming joy. "I love you," I repeat, it being all I can say, feeling it in my throat now, knowing that I talked, that I really talked! I try to say something else, but find that my throat is in a good amount of pain. A laugh, or a choke, escapes my mouth, hurting a little as it has some voice behind it. Another laugh, then another, and soon, I'm laughing, and I can hear my laughing, and it fills the air with the happiness I feel. Rainbow Dash starts laughing with me, wrapping her forelegs around my neck and pressing her face into mine, kissing me repeatedly, passionately. I kiss her back, choking out laughter that hurts so bad but feels so good in between pressing my lips against hers. She is eventually overtaken by tears of joy, pressing her face into my neck as she laughs merrily, wet tears running off her face and onto my skin as she squeezes me with all her might. I squeeze back, finding tears of my own falling from my face. We squeeze each other for a long time, crying and laughing until it hurts. I continue to hold her tightly after the tears subside, her doing the same with me. Rainbow Dash and I eventually pull back from each other; I wipe the tears from her eyes with my thumbs, and she wipes my own tears away with her hooves, holding my face on either side as I do hers and looking deeply into my eyes, smiling more happily than I have ever seen before. "I love you, Rainbow Dash," I say hoarsely, the pain in my throat great, but more than worth it to tell her what I know I have wanted to for so long. Her brilliant magenta eyes shine brightly, sparkling with happiness, her colorful mane falling perfectly over her beautiful, sky-blue face, her majestic wings spread out behind her with glee. "I love you, Mark," she says softly to me, her eyes gazing at mine for what feels like forever. She pulls me in for a long, wonderful, loving kiss, holding me against her, not wanting to let go. I taste her spicy taste, smell her intoxicating smell, take in her warmth that fills me all the way through, that completes me. We kiss for as long as we can, immediately pulling each other close afterwards in a tight hug. Rainbow Dash and I embrace beside Luna Lake as the last of the fiery sun slips below the distant horizon. The End.