It was a dark and stormy night.
Exactly the type of night that Pennington Inkwell loved the most.
In his study, Pennington was working hard on a mystery scene in his upcoming book: Daring Do and the Alicorn Amulet. He had only returned from his own trip a few days earlier, and he was behind in his work with a deadline looming over his head. He knew that, with only a few chapters actually written on paper, he was going to be cutting this one close.
Heh, don't I always? He thought to himself as he leaned back in his well-cusioned office chair, pushing himself away from the heavy desk. He let himself relax for a moment, sinking into his chair and flopping his head over the back cushion. He let his body fall limp as he focused on his other senses, trying to pull himself out of his story for a moment. His horn was starting to ache from hours on end of moving a quill across paper, and switching over to writing by hoof would only leave him with a similar ache in his ankle. So, for the moment, Pennington took a rest to enjoy the storm.
The sound of the rain pounding on his skylight was roaring though the room. Pennington had filtered it out while he was engrossed in his work, but now he reveled in the sound of a thousand tiny drops of water assaulting the glass, trying to work their way in. Pennington had spared no expense on his skylight, though, having the two-way mirror enchanted to withstand forces up to a tornado striking his shop (in which case he would have far more to worry about than a broken mirror). So, the rain simply drummed away, creating a comforting undertone and bringing the air to a chill in the room. Pennington had lit a small wood stove that he kept in the corner (far from his manuscripts), and the popping and crackling occasionally overcame the rain. There was a light scent of wood smoke in the room, accompanied by the crisp freshness of the air being cooled again by the passing of the wind. The wind was shaking the glass slightly, and kept a light howl outside, one that made Pennington feel all the more comfortable that he was inside.
As he did his best to take in the plethora of sensory inputs all at once, Pennington heard a new noise: one that was deliberate and purposeful: knocking. A definite series of knocks, coming from the "shop" part of his home.
Pennington's eyes flew open as he could only imagine what kind of pony would be knocking at his door in this kind of weather. Granted, if he hadn't needed to work, he probably would have spent some time outside, himself, but he recognized his own insanity in wanting to be exposed to the raw elements. Any other pony wanting to do so would have to be absolutely insane!
With a sudden burst of energy, Pennington jumped out of his chair and ran to the door to his study, sending the chair rolling back against the wall as he propelled himself forward. With practiced ease, he whipped his hooves in a complicated series of movements, undoing a dozen or so locks on the door.
"HOLD ON!" He shouted as he ran out into the hallway. "I'M COMING!"
He raced through the kitchen, opening the door to the front of his shop with magic without even missing a beat in his steps. As he finally reached the front of the store, he could see the light figure of a silver-haired pony through the window, her long, drenched mane covering most of her face. Pennington could make out a blue coat underneath all of the hair, and a light blue horn stuck out from the top of her head, marking her as a fellow unicorn. He didn't even think to check his memory for any matching colors, throwing open his front door to the storm.
"Come on, get inside! It's horrible out there!" He placed a hoof around her shoulders and ushered her inside. The moment that he touched her, he realized that she was shivering badly. Without any kind of thought on the matter, he pulled her along to the back of the room, through the kitchen and back down the hall.
"Th-th-thank y-y-you..." The mysterious mare whispered between chattering teeth. Her steps were stiff and shuddering, as if it were an effort for her not to curl herself up into a ball on the spot.
"Don't thank me, yet..." Pennington's horn glowed brightly for a moment, and the dozen locks on the door to his study clicked open, magic being the only way to open it from the outside. "Let's get you warmed up, first!"
He pulled the still-dripping pony into his study, thanking Luna that he hadn't been keeping any loose pages on the floor as puddles spread outwards from her hooves. He pulled open the front of the wood stove, urging her to sit close to it. "Here, this is nice and warm... I'll get you a towel."
Just as he was about to leave, he caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes underneath the hair covering her face. They were a dark, dark violet, almost closer to black or grey, and he was almost stopped still as they locked onto his, full of pain and shame.
He paused for only a moment to stare back, but her gaze quickly shifted away and down to the floor.
"T-T-Trixie i-i-is s-s-sorry..." She whispered.
Finally, things began to click in Pennington's mind. The silver mane, the blue coat... He glanced down to her flank, where a blue wisp of magical energy was being overlapped by a star-tipped wand. This was the same Trixie who had humiliated many of Ponyville's residents, lied to all of her audiences to make herself look good, and inadvertently brought an ursa minor into town, causing wanton panic and destruction..
He didn't even hesitate with what he did next.
He ran upstairs to his closet, picked out his favorite towel and bathrobe (the ones that Whipstitch had been forced to embroider his initials into when he won a bet), and ran back downstairs. This can get soaked and be just fine, and it's really warm... When he returned, he found Trixie, sniffling and staring into the fire. He slowly came up behind her, making a conscious effort to let his hooves clatter noisily against the hardwood flooring. She didn't move to look, only lifting a hoof to brush the remaining strands of hair out of her face. Pennington sat next to her, ignoring the puddle that left his rear as soaked at the rest of her body, and used his magic to pull her hair into the air before wrapping it with the towel. With another magical favor, he began to wrap the bathrobe around her. To his surprise, the still-shivering pony brushed it away with a hoof.
"Trixie... is no beggar..." She muttered.
"No, but Pennington is Trixie's host, and will get her warm and dry." He decided to address the fragile-looking pony on her own third-person terms. Once again, he tried to wrap the robe around her, and this time she didn't object, letting her hooves slip through the sleeves. When the rope had been tied around her waist, she adjusted it a little, then moved closer to the fire.
"So, would Trixie care to tell Pennington what exactly she was doing out in the cold and the rain?" Pennington whispered. He tried putting a foreleg around her shoulders and rubbing to generate a little heat, but the motion seemed awkward, and he quickly went back to keeping his hooves to himself. With a small shrug, he considered going back to his desk to talk and work at the same time, but decided against it. He always made a point to place the needs of a real, living pony above the needs of his work.
Trixie seemed to shudder at the question, her face turning downwards in shame, making Pennington sorry that he had ever asked.
"Trixie... has no place to stay. Her cart was smashed by the Ursa, and she has been laughed out of every town that she has gone to..." Tears were quickly welling up in the once-proud mare's eyes. "So, Trixie came back to Ponyville, where she was first... first..."
Pennington didn't have to be an author to know what the word was that she couldn't say. Humiliated. Destroyed. Shamed. He broke the touching barrier again, this time placing a hoof on her shoulder closest to him in an effort to comfort her.
"Well, Trixie can stay here while she tries to get her hooves back underneath her..." Pennington smiled, despite the fact that his mind was screaming at him, asking what exactly he was thinking. He only had one bedroom, his privacy was one of his most prized possessions, and Trixie had a horrible reputation in Ponyville that would most likely reflect badly on Inkwell Commissions.
But, on the other hoof, he always put a pony first, and Trixie was obviously desperate. He held no personal grudge towards the mare, her actions hadn't even effected him because he had been out of town on the day that she had appeared. The storm outside was still raging, and the first image, of her standing alone in the wind and the rain, head hung low, a complete and utter mess, refused to leave his mind.
"Trixie simply needs to wait out this storm... After that, she will leave." Trixie whispered. "Thank you for letting her stay and be dry and warm."
"Look, Trixie, You said yourself that you've been struggling since the ursa smashed your home. That was long before this storm ever set in." Pennington finally broke back into first-person speaking, trying to appear more open to her. "I am going to help you, just like a friend should."
"You don't even know Trixie, why would you call her your friend?" The mare finally looked back up and turned to him, looking at him once again with those dark eyes, locking him in place. Pennington had seen violet eyes before, he had a pair of his own that he saw in the mirror every day, but these seemed different. It wasn't just that they were reddened from her tears and holding deep lines underneath from a lack of sleep, but there was something inside them. Something that was reaching out, asking for help when her pride refused to let her do so. Pennington felt like it was deafening, even without making a sound, and he knew, deep in his heart, that he wanted to answer that plea. From what he had heard about Trixie, she was a pony who refused to partake in anything that she considered beneath her, but here he was, dripping wet, mane and tail a mess, splattered with mud and the occasional leaf, and completely ashamed. Her spirit had been broken.
"Well, if a pony hasn't given me a good reason to hate them, I always consider them my friend." He smiled and stood up, offering her a friendly hoof to stand, as well. "Come on, I'll show you where you can sleep, Trixie."
Trixie looked at his open hoof for a moment, then let out a long sigh of defeat. "Just for tonight. When the storm is gone, so am I. The Great and Powerful Trixie takes no charity, only loans!"
"Well, it's not much, but it's better than being out in the cold..." Pennington smiled as he lit a small lamp in the bedroom.
The bedroom, as he said, was simple. It was in the upstairs of his home, where he actually had his living space, in a small room separated from the rest of the house. It had only a desk with a mirror, a neat, well-made bed, and a nightstand with a simple, glass oil lamp sitting on top of it. Everything had a fine layer of dust on it, showing that the room hadn't been occupied for at least a couple weeks.
"I'm sorry about the dust, I just got back from a long trip, and I don't spend much time in here..." Pennington blushed a little as he pulled back the covers on the bed. "You can sleep here, though! It's warm..." He glanced up at the circular window above the head of the bed. "That shouldn't rattle too much in the wind."
Trixie nodded, trying to avoid anything with dust on it, no matter how thin the layer. "Thank you, again..." She was now looking more like she normally did, having used Pennington's bathroom for more than an hour to shower off the mud and make sure that her mane "was in its proper manner," draped over the side of her head in a smooth, single curl. Pennington had to admit, she cleaned up nicely, and looked at least a dozen times better. He hadn't minded waiting for her, and he had managed to write an entire new chapter before she was finished. She was still wearing his bathrobe, he suspected for warmth, but he didn't mind. After all, that was why he had given it to her.
She quietly untied the robe and slipped it back and off of her body with magic, letting the fabric slide over her back and across her cutie mark, an action that made Pennington blush profusely. He brought his focus to the lamp, trying not to let him see his embarrassment. Trixie didn't seem to notice, lifting the covers with the light pink-violet glow of her magic and climbing inside as she tossed the robe over the back of the chair sitting by the desk. When she looked back to Pennington, a confused look crossed her face.
"Why are you blushing?"
"Hm? Oh, the- the lamp. It's really hot... Makes my face all red." He muttered, pretending to wipe sweat away from his brow. Trixie certainly isn't shy...
"Well, this is hardly the five-star hotels that Trixie is used to..." She seemed to catch herself being rude, and quickly gave him a grateful smile. "But, as you said, it is one thousand times better than being out in the storm... Thank you for letting Trixie spend the night here."
"You're welcome to stay as long as you need to." Pennington smiled as the burning in his face started to fade. "And if you need a job, I'm sure that I could find a place that would let you work! We entrepreneurs are a close-knit bunch, so I know a bunch of ponies who have job openings!" He gave Trixie an optimistic smile, trying to fight the influence of the raging storm.
Trixie smiled, but in a way that he hadn't seen yet. She seemed bemused by his bright outlook, and quietly settled down under the covers of the bed. "Trixie will leave in the morning... but thank you. For tonight."
Pennington stood at the door, ready to leave, when he turned back around he was smiling.
"And Trixie? If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I am a writer, and it's really frustrates me when people talk in the third person..."
"Oh, right..." Trixie nodded, looking slightly disappointed. "I am sorry."
"No need to be! It's just a personal preference." Pennington relaxed a little when she finally began to speak normally. "Pleasant dreams, Trixie!"
Trixie blinked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Yes... Uh... Pleasant dreams... Umm..."
"Inkwell. Pennington Inkwell."
"Yes. Goodnight, Pennington." With that awkward farewell, she pulled the covers up over her shoulder and finally settled into the bed.
Pennington closed the door. As he did, the smile on his face grew wider as he came to three realizations.
I just committed myself to letting one of Ponyville's most hated visitors stay in my home.
I only have one bedroom... Guess I'm sleeping in my study on purpose, for once.
There's a mare... In my house.