Chapter Thirteen
Who decides the punishment for a crime, and which punishment is fitting for which crime?
From the lobby floor the two ponies made their way up a winding staircase that would have passed itself off as jade easily back before the Great War. Presently, the chipping and aging revealed it to be just smoothed stone slabs painted the striking green shade.
Their room was at the end of a long corridor of rooms. The key was ornate and Alana kept it in a pouch on her barding for the time being. Falcon Wing had his own somewhere in his saddlebags, he didn't really think too much about it when he tossed it into one of them. If he needed it he'd just bring it out with the inventory spell.
Alana took her key out with her mouth, put it in the lock and cocked her head to the right to open the door. She put the key back in the pouch and said "Home, sweet temporary home!"
"Caps well spent for two weeks, in my opinion," Falcon Wing commented as he followed her in, closing the door behind him.
The green motif continued in their room. The first thing Falcon Wing saw was the fairly large bed, clean sheets and everything across the room from the door, a few feet off to his right. On either side were nightstands with lamps on top. To his left was a counter with a sink and behind that was a fridge. It wasn't much of a kitchen, but this was just a hotel room. Beside the counter was a door, what he assumed the bathroom was located behind it.
There were two windows over either nightstand overlooking the plaza, the sun setting directly in front of the building and casting a red glow through the screens.
Alana set down her saddlebags at the base of the counter then launched herself across the majority of the room, landing hard onto the bed and rather than bouncing, the covers flew up and fell down over her.
"Bed. Bed-bed-bed-bed. It's been too long since I've had an actual bed!" she said contently, writhing about in the sheets as if the bed was quicksand and she wanted to sink into it.
Falcon Wing shook his head and laid his his bags next to her's. He had to agree, he could use some sleep on an actual bed, not just a mattress, mat, booth or floor. Especially after the long train ride and trek through the city at that.
"I don't suppose you're too keen on sharing?" he said, pulling himself onto the bed and taking off his Pipeye. He put the goggles on the table next to him and undid his overcoat, lying on his back after and draping the cloak over himself.
It brought back lukewarm memories of the cellar.
Just as he put his head down on the puffed up emerald pillow, Alana started shifting about and before he knew it the covers had fallen over him as well, the caramel mare having him in an embrace by the end of the swift confusion.
"You gotta share, you gotta care, its the right thing to do, Falcon!" she said with a giggle then added "I was not aware you used your coat as a blanket..."
"It's not -- I don't!" Falcon Wing stuttered hotly. He pulled the black hood off of himself and dropped it over the side of the bed where it landed in a heap.
It was then he realized he was not as insecure as he once was of his wings around her; that he didn't feel compelled to keep himself hidden underneath the hood when he was alone with her.
He would not be so inclined to take it off in public, but when it was just him and the mare it was no problem.
The next morning he woke up bewildered. It was the first morning in many days that he woke up remembering what had happened the previous day in full detail. That did little to help him understand just why he was lying on top of Alana while she rested on her side, angled sharply across the bed, muzzle half buried in her mane.
By all means it should have been an uncomfortable sleep but the red colt felt fully refreshed. He wasn't too sure about Alana however, and was certain that he was the reason she would be sore and stiff throughout the day. He frowned and started to lift himself off of her, only to have her roll onto her back underneath him, reach out with her forelegs and yank him back down with a powerful hug.
"This again... and me without my Pipeye," he thought as she nuzzled him.
He was glad she wasn't in any worse shape than him though, even if it meant having to put up with her half-asleep displays of affection.
Once again it was Alana who initiated the day's agenda, Falcon Wing finding himself mentally noting it was she who decided to spend extra time snuggling when he was more than willing to hop out of bed and get things done.Then again, he was sleeping on top of his companion. It was no surprise then that he wanted to avoid confrontation on the matter...
...which flew right back into his face when he opened the bathroom door, having taken a shower. If he were to join the ponies trying to bring the Shadow Sweep to justice, then he might as well look groomed and presentable.
" You may have woken up on top of me, but we didn't do anything you know," she said without looking at him, going through her saddlebags for something. "or were you just making sure you smelled nice before you decided to make me your mare-bed again?"
Falcon Wing froze mid-step. "... I wasn't --... I-I... mare-bed!?" he stammered then stomped his hoof down. "No! I wasn't thinking of those things at all!" he said indignantly.
He watched her with a bemused expression as she toppled onto her back and laughed at his reaction. "Oh Falcon, I didn't know you felt so strongly about that!"
It was his turn to get things back on track.
"We don't have time for this, Alana," Falcon Wing said tactfully, covering his embarrassment and walking to his side of the bed where he put on his vest, frowning slightly at the tears and cuts. Without any bandages on, his red hide showed through it, faint reminders of his wounds visible in his fur.
"Keep an eye out for any repair services, would you? The Ursa-mangled appearance doesn't quite look right without the gauze!" he said to Alana.
"I think you look handsomely rugged," Alana replied, giving him an exaggerated flirtatious look complete with batted eyelashes. Had she been any less over the top Falcon Wing might have thought she was serious.
"Yeah, the scrawny colt looks rugged. And bunnies are hardened monsters," Falcon Wing responded with a wave of a hoof and then started putting on his overcoat.
"Well, not all bunnies, but what do you think the Glyphmark foals named themselves after?" Alana asked.
Falcon Wing was stunned, caught in the middle of putting on his Pipeye, which hung lopsidedly off his head with one strap wrapped around an ear.
"The Angels... Angel... Angel was a bunny... that is one detail... the archives left out," he replied.