//------------------------------// // XVII - Trainride Antics // Story: Leather-Winged Oddity // by Deyeaz //------------------------------// Leather-Winged Oddity XVII - Trainride Antics Allow me to ponder this question. Have you ever just sat around, and wondered what "life" is? This world, reality, and life, what do they all mean? We could just be figments of someone's imagination, or really we could just be nothing. I often ask myself this question, but in the end, I always end up depressed, or just giving up. What does achieving something good in life get you in return? We're all going to die anyways, so what's the point? If all that hard work and hours of stress all amount to nothing when you die, what's the point? What's the point in even living anymore? Society's screwed, people are screwed, the whole world is basically screwed. So, right now, what's the point in living? I’ll tell you what the point is: to make something of ourselves; to leave our mark in this world; to be heroic, historic, even legendary. To be remembered. That’s all we ever want, and as humans, we will fight tooth and nail for it, until it’s rightfully ours. This fact always seems to just... lift me out of whatever depression I get stuck in. However... what’s this feeling I’m having? You know, that feeling where it feels like you got punched in the stomach after you did something? What’s it called... “guilt”? I think so... I mean, after all, I did steal those apples from AJ: I could’ve probably damaged her financial income. I need to apologize, and pay her for what I had done. It was a bit of a necessity to take those apples; however, I still feel wrong. Guess it’s my past catching up with me here... I shake my head as me and Kaileena land in front of the ticket booth of the Ponyville station. The stallion behind the desk, a tan unicorn pony with a dark red mane, raises a brow at our odd appearance, but doesn’t speak up. However, that doesn’t stop others from looking at us and muttering in disdain. I shrug it off, like I always have. “Two tickets ta Canterlot, please,” I request of the ticketmaster. “Certainly: that’ll be twenty Bits,” the ticketmaster tells us. In response, Kaileena rummages into my backpack and pulls out the pouch of Bits. I do a quick headcount on all the Bits inside. So far, I have about 45 Bits left, the five that it took to make fifty being spent at the motel last night. I pluck out twenty Bits and hand them over to the ticketmaster, who nods and smiles as his orange magical aura envelops the coins and takes them. In return, two tickets to Canterlot are given to us. “Thank ya kindly, lad,” I tell him. He nods and smile again as we leave the line and head towards the colorful train, the Friendship Express. When I flash our tickets at the conductor, he simply nods and lets us inside. The train’s whistle blew twice, the steam whooshing out and emitting a loud sound. “It’s gonna be quite a while before we can get ta Canterlot, Kaileena,” I tell the Bast next to me as we enter the train (granted, we had to stoop and I had to fold my wings in so that we wouldn’t hit ourselves on the threshold) and board one of the cars that passengers sleep in overnight. Some of the bunks are already loaded with passengers, who are either trying to catch up on lost hours of sleep or waiting for the night to come to them by killing time by reading, writing, or drawing. “Psst,” I say, tapping one of the passengers, a pink mare with a black mane, on the shoulder as she reads what appears to be a romance novel. She looks up at me and Kaileena and gulps in surprise at my appearance, her orange eyes wide. “I mean ya no harm, lass,” I whisper as I raise my hands defensively. “I was just wonderin’ if ya had a spare quill, inkwell, an’ some parchment.” “What for?” she whispers. “I wanna write a few letters ta some friends o’ mine here.” “Alright, then.” She plunges her hooves into her saddlebag at the foot of her bed and pulls out a black falcon-feather quill with a golden handle, a pewter pot of ink the size of my fist, and a few sheets of parchment, with about ten different-colored ribbons to tie the parchment up. “Thank ya very much,” I tell her as she hoofs over the writing materials. She smiles warmly. “I’ll return these once I’m done.” “Oh, don’t worry, you can keep them: I’ve got more in my bag,” she says before she returns to reading her novel. I sit down towards what looks like one of the last bunks in the car, and Kaileena sits in the one above me. I lean back against the headboard of the bunk and prop the parchment on my knee. Once I open the inkwell in between my legs, I dip the quill inside and hold the writing tool steady as I prepared to write to... ...who? To whom should I write this to first? I run a little database scan in my brain: I should definitely write to Applejack, then maybe Khajiit, seeing as how he needs a new arm and I’m heading to Canterlot to get one. I considered writing to Akio, but then I remembered that he can’t read English, so that’s out the window. Next ought to be Echo, telling him about my adventures as well, and how he and his pals are doing and what he’s up to. Perhaps even Hollow while I’m at it, and perhaps this Griffin fellow I've been hearing quite a bit about, also- Whoa! Chill the fuck out, Damien! One at a time! Er, right. Thanks, Brain. Don’t mention it, bro. Right at that moment, I heard purring above my head. Apparently, Kaileena was asleep. Damn, that cat sleeps fast.... Alright. Applejack, first. I place the tip of the quill upon the paper and, after think of what to say in my letter, begin writing, hoping the southern belle cowpony could read my cursive handwriting. Dear Applejack, I sincerely apologize for stealing your apples. It was a terrible thing for me to do, and I wish I had never done it. However, it was a necessity, for our food supply was running low. Here in this letter is also twenty-five Bits, all of them for you. Please accept this apology and let bygones be bygones. Most sincerely, ~Damien O’Connor. I place the twenty-five Bits inside the letter and roll up the parchment until it was a neat little scroll. I tied up the scroll with a length of red ribbon and lay it on my right side, next to the window. I make sure that I remember that Applejack’s letter is the one with the red ribbon before I take a second sheet of paper. Next is Khajiit. Once the quill is refilled with ink, I recommence writing. Dear Khajiit (or Mango Jack. However you wish to go by), How’s it been, man? Found what you were looking for in Stalliongrad? How’s Ren and Faultless? Anyways, I did not send this letter to you just to make mere small talk: Currently, I’m heading to Canterlot, for you see, a terrible incident has occurred. I have lost my left arm while me and Kaileena were ambushed by a massive acid-spitting worm. As for why I’m heading to Canterlot, I’m going to see Princess Luna in the hopes that she could forge me a new arm there. Perhaps you would like one as well? Reply soon, please. Kaileena says hi, and she’s psyched that she can now see colors (A bit of praying to a certain Egyptian Sky Goddess was in order for that to happen.) Most sincerely, ~Damien O’Connor. Two letters down, an unsure amount left. I tie the now-rolled-up scroll with a blue ribbon this time, and lay next to Applejack’s letter. First, I should send them and wait for some responses. I already know the Latin incantation: “Submitto ad (insert name here)”. However, will it be worth a risk if I summon Ellipsis in here? Well, it’s worth a shot, right? I stick out my right hand and hold in a breath, a bead of sweat trickling down my temple. I will Ellipsis out from the abyss, and sure enough, the scythe appears in my hands in a flashing blink of light and a weight in my hand. I let out a breath at how silent the procedure was. I look at the gem at the top of the shaft and smile: apparently, because I had killed that massive worm, the scythe’s gem was glowing at a such a blinding rate, that I have to blink a few times so that my eyes could adjust. Damn it... that might wake someone up. I clumsily place my wooden hand on the scroll with the red ribbon, the one for Applejack, and clear my throat before muttering, “Submitto ad Applejack.” The effect was instantaneous: the scroll goes up in a ball of green flame, before the smoky wisps soon grow smaller and smaller until they vanish with a little poof. I jump back in shock at the scene, almost unsettling the inkwell in between my legs and staining my clothes. “Did I just burn that letter?!” I murmur in shock. This doesn’t make sense: If I had, the blanket beneath me and my arm would’ve been scorched as well. Hang on... green flames? That seems so... familiar. … Oh, yeah! Spike breathes green flames whenever he sends letters. I look at the gem again; it has ever-so-slightly dimmed from the spellcasting, but it’s still too bright for the tired eyes of the ponies that share this car. Next is Khajiit’s letter. I place my wooden hand on the blue scroll and say the incantation again, this time with Khajiit’s name in it. The scroll goes up in another ball of green flame and another small poof. A minute or two transpire as I was determining on whether to write to either Echo or Hollow next, before my stomach gives off a small rumble, and not just out of hunger. Without warning- *URRP!* Whoo! Excuse me. Wait a damn minute... did I just belch out a scroll? Oh, great... I’m a fax machine now, just like Spike. Regardless of this situation, I pick up the scroll I had just regurgitated and remove the red ribbon keeping it rolled up. I open it and frown at Applejack's reply, mainly because I couldn't read it. And I'm not saying that because she's uneducated and illiterate: she's actually very smart and well-read. It's just that her reply isn't in English. It's like with Echo: all I got were Equestrian hieroglyphs. Horseshoes, wings, pony heads, et cetera. Damn it... I should've thought this one through... I sigh and take a look around me at all the ponies around me. Would it be right to ask one of them to translate this for me? "Excuse me, sir," I mutter, tapping a stallion on the shoulder as he was reading a newspaper. "Not now," he hisses, waving his hoof to shoo me away. "Oh... alright, then," I say in defeat like Fluttershy would before I shuffle back to my bunk and sit on it in resignation Hang on a fucking second.... I can do magic! I can translate it myself! You are a strong, independent Irish D-Imp who don't need no translator! Damn it, Brain.... What? I couldn't help it. Whatever. I grab my scythe with my right hand and place my left hand on the reply from Applejack. Now what was that incantation called, Damien? Think for a second... what did we all ask Reverend Peters in Scripture class whenever he said something incredibly complex in Latin? C'mon, Brain, help me out, will ya?! I'm having just as much trouble as you are, asshat! Crap... Wait! "Vertere ad Anglorum,' I mutter after a minute of thinking. At once, the Equestrian hieroglyphs became readable English words. I mean, sure, they looked like scribbles due to cartoon logic, but apparently, I could read them very clearly. Peters, you magnificent old fart.... Dear Damien, I humbly accept your apology, and I’m glad that we can sweep this under the rug and be friends. I guess that Hollow fellow of yours was right when he told me that you took those apples for necessity. And I’m glad that you want to pay for those apple that you took. Write back soon, you hear? Sincerely, ~Applejack P.S.: I wrote this all by myself, but I had to have Twilight translate it for me, since we Equestrians don't speak your language. I give a small smile at the postscript as I carefully place the letter inside my backpack, letting its hammerspace swallow it. I looked outside and still saw that there was some light out, but the sun was slowly sinking. It felt like it was almost evening. However, I rummage into my backpack for one of the apples I had now officially paid for and munch on it. Whoa.... Dear Lord... it’s so... INCREDIBLE! Think of the most delicious and ripe apple that you’ve ever had. Think of the juiciness, the crispness, the flavor, the freshness; the overall taste and feel of the apple. Now, take it, multiply it by ten, and you’ve got yourself an apple straight off of a tree from Sweet Apple Acres. I can see why business is booming for Applejack’s farm: these things are delicious! Before I know it, I start wildly eating the apple immediately and finish it in about five or six bites. My stomach gives another short rumble, and I eat another apple, along with a small piece of meat. “Urgh... what a weird, disgusting creature, eating meat like that,” a snide voice comments. I turn to see a turquoise unicorn mare in the bunk next to me looking at me in disgust. Apparently, she has quite a bit of jewelry, as well as an eloquent hairstyle (you know what? I give up on trying to differentiate regular grammar and Equestrian grammar by not saying “manestyle”) and nice-looking makeup. Clearly, she was one of the uppercrusts on this train. Time for some fun... I slowly chew the beef in my maw, and swallow before I turn to face her. “Hey. I like meat, so why don’tcha shut yer whore mouth?” I suggest darkly as I quickly disperse Ellipsis back into the Abyss and trash the apple cores outside. Above me, I hear some snickering. Kaileena, you faker. I can’t believe I thought you were asleep. “Why, I never!” The mare is rather flabbergasted. Quite haughtily, she gets out of her bunk and starts to walk out of the car. “Yeah, you go, girl.” I pause for a second. “And take those tacky horseshoes with ya.” The mare looks back at me, gasps, then turns her head up and nose high. “Hmph!” She walks out of the car, leaving us occupants in our lonesome. “Thanks, man,” a stallion says as he pops his head out of his bunk. He looks surprised by my appearance, but takes it in stride. “That mare’s been complaining about this train’s car, saying the beds are uncomfortable and how we ‘smelled’.” A look of annoyance appeared on his face, but it is soon perished by happiness. “Thank you.” The other ponies, the non-snooty kind, start nodding in assent. “Don’t mention it, lad; just happy I could help,” I say. The ponies who had turned to face me returned to their own bunks. Just like that, I give off another belch, and another scroll, with a blue ribbon, appears. I unfurl it and begin reading Khajiit’s response, which, despite how his right hand is gone, I see the writing is clean and neat. Dear Damien, Nice to hear from you, man. Me, Faultless, and Ren are perfectly fine right now; Faultless says “hi”. Now that you mention it, no, we haven’t found what we were looking for, to our great disappointment. However, I got some good news. I got a job as a waiter in a bar in Stalliongrad. Pay’s good, and the customers are pretty cool. But you’re kinda lucky: at least you can write with your right hand and you lost your left; I can’t say the same for me. Which is why I have Faultless writing this for me. As for your offer, sure; I’d like that. I mean, I was going to head to Bitsburg for it, seeing as how it’s the Steampunk City, but if you want to get me one, then sure: take as long as you need to get it to me, seeing as how forging seems like a long process. Take care, Damien. Sincerely, ~Khajiit P.S.: Why the hell did no one tell me about these robotic arms? Seriously, if I’d known, I’d have gotten one sooner. P.P.S.: Tell Kaileena I say “hi” back. I chortle a bit before I roll up the scroll again and place it in my bag. With a massive yawn, I decide to hit the hay in early. I carefully put the stopper on the inkpot and place it and the quill in a side pocket on my backpack. Just like with the main zipper, this side pocket also has hammerspace. Weird.... Nonetheless, I crawl under my blanket and get ready to go to sleep... ...until the sound of crying breaks out in the middle of the room about a minute or two later. Reluctantly, I get up, trying to pinpoint the sound. At last, I find a mother and her little babe in an upper bunk. The mother, a green Earth Pony mare with a gold-colored mane, is trying to shush and calm the infant, a silver Earth Pony colt with a blue mane, his crying sending weird, painful pangs throughout my heart. Blegh, I can’t believe I just said that... it sounds so... corny. But nevermind that: I’ve got a baby to cheer up and a woman to make happy. “What seems ta be th’ problem, madam?” I ask the mare. “Oh, it’s my little Chrome Finish,” she tells me, looking at me with concern. “One minute, he was fine and sleeping; the next, he just suddenly started crying like this.” “Perhaps he’s bein’ possessed by a devil?” “What?!” The mare blurts incredulously. I chortle again. “‘M just kiddin’, madam. Is he hungry, does he need changing, or does he need attention?” “I don’t know!” The mare is panicking. I see the look in her eyes and feel a bit of disappointment: she’s got rookie eyes. She doesn’t know what to do. “I changed him and fed him before he slept!” “Hmm...” I rub my chin, pondering on what to do. *DING!* Ideeeaaaa~! Ew, that sounded gay. Screw you, Brain; my brother was gay, and you never had problems with him. I don’t mind your brother, because that's how he is; I mind you and your sexual preferences and behavior. ...you’re an asshole, Brain. You know that, right? Eh, I try. Clearly, you do. “Ma’am? Allow me.” I close my eyes and screw my face up in concentration. “Sir, if you need the bathroom, it’s down the hall,” the mare deadpans over the crying of her baby colt. “Goddammit, no!” I snap. “Now shut up an’ lemme concentrate!” *POOF!* “Gah!” the mare exclaims as the small smokescreen appears over me and I become a smaller blob-like Devil Imp. A few of the passengers gasp in shock. “Sir, are you alright?” “Yeah!” I say, my now high-pitched Irish voice reaching her ears and making her raise a brow. When the smoke clears and I fly up to her eye level, she and the passengers gasp again. “’M fine.” The mare is left speechless for a few seconds. But when she does speak- “Awwww!” She cooes. “You look sooo cute!” “Yes, I know,” I say exasperatedly. The baby in her forelegs stops crying and starts looking at me in teary-eyed curiosity. Without hesitation, I start pulling funny faces in the hopes to make the baby laugh. “Bleeeegh!” I say, my tongue lolling out of my head as I shake my head/body back and forth, causing my tongue to flail back and forth. “Look at th’ funny face!” The baby blinks a few times before breaking out in happy giggles. I smile, and, surprisingly, let out a small squee. The baby giggles louder. I raise my tail and start to tickle him with it. The baby laughs even harder at the gesture, and the mother smiles widely at me. “There! See? ‘S not too har- GAH!” The baby immediately grabs my tail and yanks it towards him, pulling me along with it. Along with a sharp pain where my arse is, I feel the baby squeezing me... ...and gnawing on my head with his toothless mouth. “AHH! HELP! HE’S EATIN’ MEEEE!” I cry out in fear. No, seriously. I’m scared shitless. Do you KNOW what’s like to be eaten by something bigger than you? It sucks. Even worse, the eater’s an infant, and I’m an adult. So clearly, the odds are not in my favor at the very moment. At my cry, I hear a thump and footsteps before I see Kaileena come into view, a look of surprise on her face. At the sight of me, she stifles the oncoming giggles. “C’mon, Blob Boy,” she mutters as she pulls me out of the baby’s grasp. “Oh, ha-ha, very original,” I deadpan. The infant is still giggled, even as I’m pulled away. The mare holding her colt nuzzles him, and he returns the affectionate gesture. D’AWWWWWWWWWWWW. Ah, Brain! I always knew you had a softer interior compared to that rocky outside. Shut up, okay?! I’m only a pansy-ass when cute displays between ponies are involved! Whatever... The mare smiles at the both of us before saying, “Thank you so much, Mr... um...” “Damien O’Connor.” With another poof and smokescreen, I return to being a human Devil Imp. “At yer service,” I say in my normal voice. “Damien O’Connor?” A random passenger asks once the smoke clears. “Aren't you that guy that escaped from the Stalliongrad tower?” “Ehehe, yeah,” I say nervously, scratching my head. This can’t be good.... “Sorry if I caused any troubles.” “Strange. The wanted posters said you were dangerous...” the mother comments. “You don’t look it.” I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding in. Relief flowed through me like a splendid river. “Alright, love,” I finally say. "Wait, what? You love me? You've only just met me!" The mare declares out of shock, though her cheeks redden ever so slightly at the embarrassment she's being plowed with. "No, I mean..." I sigh in frustration. "In Ireland an' Scotland, callin' someone 'love' is a term o' kindness towards a woman, not one o' affection." When the mare nods, I change the subject. "But anyways, I'm glad ta see that I could be o' some help.” I turn around and head back to my bunk, but not before I smile at the mare, who returns the smile. The colt in her arms waves happily and giggles, which I also return with gusto. I sit back into the bottom bunk and lay on it as Kaileena climbs back onto the top bunk above me. I look out the window and see that the train has covered about a third of the destination. I sigh in content and lean back in my bed, arms behind my head as I nap peacefully in the bunk. Three or four hours fly by like hawks in a dive, and before we know it, we reach the train station of Canterlot. Time to get this over with....