The View From The Window
Interlude: Tea with Chase
Reverie lazily flew through the cold, gray clouds of the dull overcast sky, and felt like she belonged.
She allowed herself to be aimlessly cast about by the frigid breezes that spoke of the oncoming winter. She ignored the long minutes of shivering caused by misty water vapor condensed into a veneer of sleet over her coat and feathers. The cold had made her body numb, and her mind had already been numb besides.
They're coming faster now.
She was buffeted by a gust from the west, and her ears twitched to the sound of cracking icicles as her wings flapped to regain lost altitude, shaking off a layer of frost in the process. But these things, like the little tufts of down caught in bits of ice and pulled from her wings, went unnoticed.
When her visions had first started, in her early teen years, it had been only a comparative handful; two or three a year. At present, eight years later, it was typical for her to have a vision about once every month or so. But these past two dreams...
Her recent visions had been comparatively mild, but Reverie was growing increasingly aware that this wasn't going to keep. How long would it be now until she saw something darker? How long until the next Rampant Pandemonic – the next Light of Moon and Fire?
Reverie was not the worrying type. She had flirted with the idea when she was younger, spent a few months panicking now and then about whether these dreams had doomed her to insanity, particularly after one of them had left her shivering through the night in abject horror for weeks on end, haunted by the enduring vision of all-seeing serpentine eyes. In the end, though, she had – more or less by inevitable necessity – decided to forgo the degree program in screaming terror and instead chosen to adapt, living her life as it came and not fixating on how things could go wrong years in the future. She thought, when it sprang to mind from time to time, that it was one of her more insightful decisions.
Today was a very different day.
Nineteen days. Not even three weeks apart.
Reverie was worrying. More accurately, Reverie was frightened. She had years ago noticed that her visions were coming more quickly as time progressed, yes, but it had always been subtle – gradual. Over the course of a few months, there would be a day or two less between dreams. But her most recent two...
Not only had they broken the years-established patterns of content and distance, but the time between them had jumped from thirty-odd days to only twenty. Even with roughly monthly visions, her usual post-dream fugue was already affecting a good quarter of her waking life. For that now to be increased again by half?
...And how long until the interval shortened again? Would it jump just as abruptly? After another few visions, would it be fifteen days between? Ten?
How long would it be now, before she was having these visions every time she slept?
Could I even live like that?
And another thought, one from so many years ago, that had for so long been silent:
...Would I want to?
She wasn't entirely sure, just then, whether she wanted to burst into tears or cry out in furious grief—
The wind shifted, suddenly stolen from beneath her wings, and Reverie tumbled through the air, her head suddenly pounding with the ringing of funeral bells, and it was so cold, just so cold—
Her eyes snapped open and her wings followed suit, their coating of frost flung off into a corona of sparkling crystals; her pinions flared and dug into the air, tearing from it the strength to soar, and with a great rush of wind she pitched up into the bleak gray clouds—
And then she broke into the sunlight.
She shivered a few times, suddenly aware of how frosty she'd become, as she glided along the calm air above the cloud bank, basking in the warming sun.
Was I really just thinking...?
Reverie gave her head a good thrashing shake to drive the dark thoughts away, pausing when her ears twitched to the sound of distant ringing.
Bells...
Not funeral bells, as her terror-gripped panicking mind had earlier perceived. Rather more mundanely, it was the Mareford clock tower striking the hour.
Counting the first, rather grievously misinterpreted ring, the tower bell rang four times, which about lined up with the position of the sun angling toward the western horizon.
Four in the afternoon already? My how the time flies when one's mind is lost in wild panic, chasing its—
Oh, ponyfeathers.
Reverie took just a brief moment to smack herself on the forehead with a hoof, before diving back through the cloud bank, and angling for Gia's cafe.
By virtue of flight the journey only took her a few minutes, and she was soon setting her hooves down on the smooth cobblestones of Station Road. The wide avenue was conspicuously unoccupied for a Friday afternoon, an unexpected blessing courtesy of the scheduled rain in the coming evening.
A quick glance around did not find a certain blue stallion cantering up any nearby streets toward the cafe, which meant that Chase was either late, or had already arrived early.
She hadn't really asked him to tea, of course, but he would be here. This wasn't the first time that Reverie had danced this particular waltz with a Hooftons stallion, and she knew well enough how to dictate the steps.
Those steps did not typically include her being late to her own appointment, but in the end it was easy enough to take advantage of. A lady, after all, arrived when she wished to.
Stepping into Gia's cafe, she shrugged off a persisting shiver, and tried not to think about just how much she was hoping to find company awaiting her.
It was a different place, the cafe, without the sunlight streaming in through the broad front windows. But the sky was dark, and drab, and gray today, and so the interior lamps were all lit, lending their warm orange oil-flame glow to the polished brass and carved oak woodwork that made up the structure. It was one of the few places in Mareford that eschewed mana crystal lighting, and very much by intent, as Gia refused to trade the welcoming glow of the flickering lamp flames for the cold hum of industrial magic.
As she stepped up to the counter, Reverie felt the last lingering cold falling away.
"Buonasera, Mamma Bello," she called softly over the serving counter to the elder mare sorting stocks of tea on the rear shelf. Gia quickly turned, and her face blossomed into a matronly smile upon sight of her may-as-well-be-goddaughter.
"Ah, Reveranza," Gia said warmly, reaching a hoof over the counter to gently brush the young pegasus' cheek, in place of leaping it entirely to wrap her in the more traditional hug.
Reverie leaned into the comforting touch, part of her mind flitting to a time that Gia had just up and jumped the counter, and the memory brought to her face a thin smile.
The peace didn't last though, and Gia soon brought herself in close, her expression turned to concern. "You have paled since we last spoke, child. Another of your troubled nights?"
Reverie said nothing, gently nodding with a quiet mm, and bless her, Gia was always kind enough never to ask anything more about it.
"...Well then," the elder mare began quietly – and was that a touch of mischief? – "perhaps it is not such a bad thing that a handsome stallion came in just recently asking after you. What better way to banish an uneasy night, then with a little restlessness of your own, hmm?"
Yes. Definitely mischief. For all that blessed silence that Gia kept in never asking about her dreams, such did not extend to her giving advice in how to deal with them.
Reverie perked a brow, staring at the earth pony matron with an expression diplomatically called skeptical, but the calm and composed Gia Bello shrugged it off like so much rainwater, returning the younger mare only a pleasant, genuine smile.
"I directed him to your usual table." Gia said casually, returning to sorting her teas.
Reverie was caught rather unawares by that, blinking a few times as it processed.
"...Did you now?"
Gia's silver-flecked scarlet mane bounced with her nonchalant nod.
"I did. I thought him handsome enough that if you did not yet know him, then perhaps you should come to."
"Well, my, how considerate of you," Reverie said, forcing just a hint of politeness out through her gritted teeth as she turned her head to the right, spotting a touch of lamp-lit blue visible where her mother had been sitting two days before. "Luckily enough, however, I was expecting him."
Gia cast a glance back at that, her eyes glittering and smile lopsided – weighed down by all the implications she was trying, and plainly failing, not to make.
"I shall send tea, then?" The elder mare asked simply.
Reverie nodded, conceding the point. There was no victory to be had here – only the minuscule dignity of a hobbling retreat.
"My chocolate and mint again, per favore."
Reverie then set her hooves to a walk toward her usual booth, glancing about and taking stock of the cafe. It was impressively quiet today; there was a well-presented older stallion in a sport coat by the front window engrossed in a paper, probably the finance section; a pair of mares over on the far side near the stairs to the rooftop patio, a white pegasus and lemon-yellow earth pony, conspiring in subdued gossip.
It was a far cry from the usual bustling business, but she welcomed the privacy, not least because she was essentially, if not officially, here on a bit of a date.
Something that was not lost on Ancora, apparently, as he glanced toward her usual table and its unexpected visitor, then back to her with an arched brow and curious expression, as she passed by the register. She answered his unspoken query with a pleasant smile and gentle shake of the head, which the younger stallion promptly did not believe for a second.
Well, she couldn't exactly blame either him or his mother for their assumptions. They didn't really know just what it was that truly separated her from the typical Hooftons mare—only that she occasionally had problems sleeping. The critical difference, though, was that they were good-natured about their teasing, and that made it easy for her to forgive.
Much the same as she had done with Chase himself, when he'd shown his willingness to swallow his pride that first meeting a few days ago, and why she was currently here in the first place, she remembered.
Pushing aside her budding hesitation and its usual collection of groundless worries, Reverie took a few final steps to the waiting table, and smiled as Chase looked to up to greet her.
"Ah, Miss Reverie! I was starting to—er, well..."
Is he blushing? Already?
"...Starting to wonder if I wasn't coming?"
She laughed quietly, taking her seat across from the fidgeting stallion, who chuckled nervously, and eventually nodded.
"Well, uh, yes, basically. I've already tipped what little hand I had to play, haven't I?"
Reverie matter-of-factly nodded.
"Forfeited the game entirely. Really, in a way it's adorable."
Chase raised a hoof to his face with a sigh, shaking his head in disappointment.
"Never before have I met a mare who so easily trounces me in social graces. How do you do that?" he asked, a hint of incredulity in his tone.
"Composure, Chase Justice,” she answered simply. “A great deal I was taught by my mother, but I've also learned how to weave my way through Hooftons intrigues by necessity."
A pair of teacups enveloped in slate-gray magic floated over from the counter, setting gently down on the table after Chase pushed aside the papers he'd been reading earlier. Reverie thanked Ancora with a smile, in response to which he offered a disinterested shrug, followed by a pointed glare toward the other side of her table. She narrowed her eyes in confusion, shaking her head at him, but he simply walked away to the far side of the serving counter.
Her view panning back to Chase, Reverie saw him staring off after Ancora with an expression of curiosity.
"Ancora's a friend," she said, bringing his attention back to the present, "going back some years. He's just feeling a little protective, is all."
"Protective, is it?" Chase replied, glancing back toward the younger stallion presumptively. "You're sure 'jealous' isn't a better word?"
At that Reverie arched a brow, snickering.
"I think it's perhaps a little too cliché for my childhood friend's secret feelings to be revealed just as I'm meeting a prospective love interest. Besides, he's been seeing a lovely unicorn mare for several months now."
"Ah. Protective, then," Chase said quickly, taking a sudden and pointed interest in his cup of tea, which he nearly spilled in his haste to put something in his mouth aside from his hoof. He paused, though, eyes widening as he actually drank some of the warm refreshment.
"...Chocolate and peppermint?"
Reverie smiled.
"You see? Nothing to worry about."
He sipped at the tea again, taking a moment to more carefully evaluate the unexpected flavor, before setting his cup down and looking to Reverie.
"I have nothing to worry about based on the flavor of my tea? I'm going to need an explanation for that one."
Reverie took a deep drink of her own, savoring it for a moment, before answering.
"Chocolate and mint oolong is my tea, Chase. Gia obviously knows that, but she made you a cup, and Ancora also knows that, but he didn't angrily dump it in the sink – or on your head when he floated it over. So you've passed inspection."
Taking a moment to consider her point, Chase took up his cup of tea again, swirling it around a few times before once more sampling the rich and refreshing liquid. He was lost in thought for a long moment, before he eventually looked up from the cup.
"...Alright, I’ve decided."
Reverie tilted her head to the side, curious.
"Hm? Decided what?"
He matched her impenetrable icy blue eyes with his own deep sapphire, serious and intense.
"I'm taking you to dinner."
She raised a brow and creased her lips into an intrigued smile, but nonetheless wagged a reproachful hoof.
"Ah, ah, Chase; you passed their inspection. I didn't say that you've passed mine."
The rules of the game dictated that at this point, Chase was supposed to relent, perhaps playfully ask her as to just how he could do that. Maybe suggest surprising her with flowers, or serenades at her window.
To her surprise, however, Chase didn't relent. Rather just the opposite.
"You've captured my interest, Miss Reverie, and I freely admit it. So give me that chance, and let me take you to dinner."
Her eyes went wide, not at all having expected him to so directly cut through the social ritual around which the Hooftons revolved. Accordingly shocked, Reverie found herself scrambling for something to say.
"Er, well, are you...so sure that's a good idea, based on how your time with me has gone so far?"
It was a desperate play toward the usual game, and she knew it wasn't going to take before she'd even finished saying it. Chase didn’t hesitate even a moment in his response.
"You are the most interesting mare I've met in, you know, maybe ever; there isn't just something about you, there's a whole cadre of somethings. So yes, I'm sure seeing you is a good idea. Quite possibly one of my best."
Reverie contemplated him for a long moment, reading the clear determination in his expression, the spark of fascination in his eyes, and the sudden confidence in his smile. But no, he wasn't trying to be clever and pull one over on her. He was completely serious, calling the round, laying down his cards.
I suppose I ought to myself, then.
A sip of tea was taken, and the Reverie that set down her cup was not quite the same one who had picked it up.
"Before you go jumping into commitment on this, Chase, there's something you should know."
"And what might that be? Wait—you're not going to tell me you're actually married," he asked, eying her curiously.
"No, no," she replied with a shake of her head, "nothing so dramatic as that. I just feel I should advise you, Chase, that I'm not all charm and wittiness and dancing through social graces. I come with some...strings attached."
He nickered, and shrugged.
"This is the Hooftons, Miss Reverie. I'd challenge you to find me a pony who doesn't have some kind of strings, or baggage, or skeletons in their closets, sometimes literally."
She laughed quietly, shaking her head again.
"You're right, but that isn't quite what I mean. Chase...I know you're relatively new to Mareford, but you're still a Hooftons pony. Does the name Reverie Dreamflight really not mean anything to you?"
He leaned in closer to her, that confident smile returned, and Reverie was surprised to be unable to tear her eyes from his.
"It means plenty to me. It means a beautiful, intelligent mare, who as I said, is the most interesting pony I may have ever met; and I'm taking her to dinner, and nothing else really matters."
Reverie found herself looking across the table at a different Chase than she had sat down with. The one she'd met two days before, the one that had been waiting for her when she'd arrived at the cafe...well, he was cute, and endearing, and absolutely adorable when he tried to lay on the charm.
Looking back at her now, though was one who was unabashedly bold, unquestionably sincere, and indisputably more her type than she'd previously thought.
Her cheeks were hot. She knew she was blushing, and she knew he could tell.
I should tell him plainly, she thought, her mind still spinning. I should explain my reputation, what being seen with me could do to him—
How long has it been since I blushed like this?
I should tell him to run away from me before it ends up costing him something. Or I should just save him the trouble...and say no.
Reverie took a deep breath, calming herself, and opened the eyes she hadn't noticed she'd closed to find Chase still sitting across from her, waiting and smiling patiently.
This evening tea had not gone at all like she had expected. But she knew what she had to say. She knew all too well.
"Well, I'm...I'm free this wednesday?"