Interim 3
Everything is still, save for the two of us. The day’s warmth complements ours as I keep hold of her, working my tongue slowly over hers. Sweetie’s still a bit inexperienced, but she’s able to keep up with the motions in her mouth. One claw goes down alongside her dress as I press her into the wall, which elicits a soft moan from her throat. I remove my mouth to give her a chance to breath.
“Don’t stop,” she begs quietly, reeling from the kiss.
“Not gonna,” I tell her quietly before planting my mouth back on hers. She continues moaning over our tongues; that bodily shudder from each one just makes it more arousing. My other claw reaches up and starts weaving through her fluffy mane. Soft and firm as cotton. I withdraw my mouth from hers and give her mane a sniff. Smells so much like her sister. My mouth waters a little.
“Please, Spike...”
“You like it, you slut?”
“Yes, yes...”
I sniff down her head before I begin nibbling at her neck. She moans louder. So easy to please.
“Getting loud there. You want to get caught?”
“I-it’s fine, I don’t care. I just want you.” Certainly the wild child: gives a lot and asks for little. May as well give her what she wants.
I bring my mouth back up to hers, as the claw on her dress begins working its way down. Down along her subtle curves, over the ruffles of her skirt. I begin to feel her upper thigh through those fishnet stockings. She gasps, trying to keep it together as I kiss her cheek and breath down her neck. Slowly, very slowly it moves to the front. Very close to that sweet spot. She’s about to lose it. Flex my claws, get them limber for what’s ahead. Almost there...
“All aboard for Canterlot! Last boarding call for Caaaanterlot!!”
I stop everything, then pull back my head and look over my shoulder. Guess I took it a bit too slow. Ah well. I look back to Sweetie, who’s opened her eyes with a dazed, semi-enraptured look.
“Seems time’s up, babe.” I pull back my arms and let her drop back onto all fours. Now her look is that of a whimpering puppy that’s been denied a treat inches from its mouth.
“Ohhhh, right now? But I was nearly there.” I simply smile at that begging tone of hers.
“I’d love to finish up, but I wouldn’t want to miss my train.”
She gives a pouty sigh. “Okay. But we’re picking up where we stopped as a ‘welcome back’ present.”
“Back here?”
“Nooo, you silly!” I shrug, now with a sly grin on my face.
“Heh, you seemed alright with it.” I turn around (missing whatever silly cute face she’s making) and leave the shadow of the shed. Stepping out back into noon sunlight, I look ahead to my left and see the train at the platform, taking on passengers amid baggage and small talk. I quicken my pace and get up to the platform, and soon I’m onboard with no one the wiser of where I’ve been (like they have any reason to care).
It’s been three days since the matter of the Changeling. A sweep of the rest of its lair didn’t turn up any books, but I did find two more dead agents. No doubt used their identities to move around in broad daylight, maybe even used as sustenance. Easy thing to do when you’re a shapeshifter these days. Being years since the last Changeling sighting, there wasn’t any point in keeping up detector spells anywhere.
Her Highness took the report well enough, though a bit disappointed that I couldn’t bring in the last living Changeling... well, alive. But she lived with it on the grounds of “better safe than sorry”, and like that, it’s back to routine. No fuss, no hooplah. Just another assignment well done. Though Owlowiscious did get himself a fancy new inkwell and set of quills for his assistance, along with a new journal. He was rather pleased with the reward (didn’t think his eyes could get bigger than they already are).
Currently I’m enroute to Canterlot for more royal business, with an emphasis on the “royal” part. Every few months, the Ruling Princesses get together to discuss matters of national concern (or chat and have tea when there isn’t any). Twilight’s busy finding new agents to replace Cross and the others, so she entrusted me to meet the Ruling Sisters in her stead. Bet it’ll just be a quick meet-and-greet, say that all is well and so on. Probably be back in Ponyville by nightfall; it’s not exactly far away.
Sweetie tagged along with me to the station, dropping hints about how it’s been awhile since we got intimate, how it’d be a good way to kill the time. I was bored, figured it had been long enough for both of us, took her near the maintenance shed and... well, you know the rest. Invigorating to do that sort of thing every now and then, and the good thing about small communities like Ponyville is that everyone minds their own damn business (even to the point of blind denial). And Sweetie just loves it.
An uneventful hour goes by before we reach Canterlot: capital city to Equestria and its seat of power. The crowning achievement of tradition and modernization, set high into the side of one of this great land’s magnificent mountains in view of all it commands (if that isn’t an apt metaphor, I don’t know what is). In a few minutes the train pulls up into the station, and some jostling through the crowd on the platform afterward gets me into the mayhem of the city proper. If anything’s changed about Canterlot the past eight years, it’s that there are a lot more things walking around: ponies, griffons, Diamond Dogs, even buffalo and some cows. Rise in population gave cause for more safety precautions, namely the appearance of more city patrols and the posting of guards at certain intersections to uphold order. It didn’t take long for the citizens to get used to having a city guard on every street corner as time went by. Funny how alright, even blase, they are with that creeping authoritarian presence. But then again, most of them are well-off with big city money, so what’s the worry?
The market stalls near the station are as lively as I remember: merchants hocking gifts to tourists and little amenities to the locals. Peddlers both local and foreign advertising wares and gourmet goods from around the world. I could wax on about how this small portion of the city is the very living definition of life in a truly upscale, civilized world made possible through Order, but you didn’t come here for social commentary. Also, that interruption with Sweetie and the boring train ride has made me a bit cranky. With that said, I leave that microcosm of the modern world with claws in pockets, stepping onto the sidewalk of one of the streets leading to the palace. Given the abundance of ponies going about and the occasional cart passing by to halt pedestrian flow, getting there is going to take a while. More crankiness to ensue.
I take a moment to look up as the multicolored hues of the populace pass around me. Everything a dull white and purple scheme, gilded corners, and of course banners. Banners hanging from just about everything. I suppose it’s a show of patriotism and Canterlot culture, but I can never understand the need for so many freakin’ banners unless there’s a parade... or a coronation. Should count myself lucky that isn’t the case for today.
There’s a lapse in crowd density as I get toward the middle of the city. I take a turn toward the outer edge of the city to keep things light. Here the blue brilliance of the sky goes mostly unobstructed, with more open ground. Some of the quainter shops I go by on this route, the ones selling quality quills and antiques and baked goods (because everywhere in Equestria there’s a bakery. Its inclusion in town ordinances is practically mandated). Even see some griffons going by, and Diamond Dog laborers. If you got the money or the labor skills, then you’re more than welcome to hop into this wonderful little melting pot that’s the city (seems I’m doing social commentary on the subconscious level. My apologies, everyone).
I’m past a furniture store when I detect something out of place, very close. I eye upwards, then notice something popping in and out of my peripheral. I turn my head down and see a griffon the size of a small dog hopping and keeping pace alongside me. He’s wearing an orange ball cap, with eyes full of some immense excitement. I just look at him as he jumps up and down, not slowing down.
“Uh, hey there?” I greet cautiously.
“Are you Spike? Like, the Fetcher Spike, works-for-the-princess Spike, THE Spike?” His speech is about as jumpy as the rest of his body.
“Yeah, I’m Spike.” Eyes widen and beak makes an even more rapturous gape. Getting a bad feeling about this.
“Oh man, I knew it was you! I could spot you a mile away, though really it was across the street, but I got it right still!”
“Great work, kid. Exactly what tipped you off?” Clearly sarcasm is unknown to this bundle of feathers and claws. Also grumpiness.
“Someone as cool as you is hard to miss! I mean, I can’t believe it, finding you while I’m just walking around, I mean, it’s awesome, amazing awesome!”
“Hey kid, could you tone it down? I get the enthusiasm.” Seems yappy half-pints are commonplace, because hardly anyone looks at this scene of odd-assery.
“Yeah, okay. But I also knew it was you cuz I saw you live in person.”
“Is that a fact?” Crap, I’m engaging in conversation with him. The worst possible thing you could do with yourself in the company of a hyped-up child, no matter what species.
“Yeah! You came and saved our school last year, all by yourself. Me and just about everyone there got to see you, but I’m the one talking to you right now. My friends are gonna be soooo jealous when I tell them. They might not even believe me.”
There was only one school job last year. A pencil-pusher in Manehatten with a deep obsession for crime dramas took some Molotov Cocktails and held an elementary school hostage, demanding renewal of his library card. A fairly impressive feat, considering he was a rather scrawny, twitchy earth pony. Since I was tasked with slapping a restraining order on him at the time, I was naturally in pursuit. “Oh yeah, I think I remember seeing you. Kinda.”
“It was crazy, and all the teachers were scared, but you swung in and saved the day. It was so awesome how fast you did it!”
“I wouldn’t say awesome, only necessary.” Well, maybe not entirely necessary. Basically the matter was resolved through some precise dismemberment and good ol’ poetic justice. Smart thing it got taken care of on the roof; saved those kids some extra crispy nightmares (except for the smell...).
Kid is still hopping by me. What did he eat today?
“Are you gonna stop anytime soon? I’m getting nauseous looking at you.” Finally a look of humility on his eager face.
“Sorry,” he says after settling on all fours. He looks back up at me a slight bit more humble. “I’m George by the way, but I like being called Georgie. It’s more neat, and funny too. At least I think so.”
Don’t see why. Yeah, there’s something wrong with this kid. Better be civil anyway; no faster way to quell childlike wonderment than with mundane discussion. “What brings you to Canterlot?”
“Shopping for my mom. She owns a rug store and she’s getting fabric and stuff to make them with. Dad is a manager at a shipping company, just fills out paperwork, pretty boring stuff. At least with rugs there’s a lot of nice colors instead of moldy walls and desks.”
Holy crap kid, breath! Although, what he says piques my interest. “Your mom’s name wouldn’t happen to be Gilda, would it?”
The impassable look of the confused. “...Noooooo.”
I only know a bit about Gilda, and it’s been years since her name was mentioned around town. The kid seems the right age, though (sorry for trying to find something interesting to share with the squirt).
“Don’t suppose you have a sister with that name either?” I press on, against better judgment.
“I’m getting a baby sister in a few weeks, or maybe a baby brother. I don’t know if their name would be Gilda if it’s a girl. Maybe Gloria, that’s a pretty name. Or Ginger, cuz it’s silly like Georgie is. Actually, to be honest, I’m a bit nervous about it. It’s a long way away, but mom’s talking about responsibilities and behaving myself while dad—”
The front outer wall of the palace comes into sight while the kid blathers on. Doesn’t look like he’ll be done soon, whatever it is he’s talking about.
“Sorry kid, but I really need to go,” I cut him off. His face goes from moderately concerned back to somewhat quelled excitement.
“Go? Go where?”
“Where royal duties call.”
“Oh. Can I come along?” Oh give me a break here.
“Royal personnel only, kid. Also, wouldn’t want your mom getting worried would you?”
“It’s okay. She takes forever looking for the best stuff, that’s how I got away to begin with. Real sneaky, right?” Yeah, and also getting to be a real pain. Idea strikes.
“Tell you what: when I’m done with my duties and if you find me afterward, we can continue our chat.”
“Really?” Those glistening eyes of hope and joy, I’m getting flashbacks to what Sweetie used to pull around Rarity. It’s despicable.
“Sure. Don’t know how long it’ll be, though.”
“Okay, I’ll just wait around for you to get back.” With that, he turns and skips away back into the crowd. Aside from the Cake twins, I don’t really spend much time around kids, and generally I can tolerate them. And I have nothing against griffons as a whole. After my first tenure of Vanguard training, my sword was given an upgrade by a griffon smithy. They make good steel.
As for the kid, he ain’t bad, but he talks waaaay too much. The sort of quality that promotes the practice of safe sex. Mind drifts to me and Sweetie Belle’s safe practices, then it drifts further to how she would handle being preg—GAAAAAH back to work back to work!
Pedestrians practically vanish when I get within a hundred yards of the palace gate, which is as big and glaring white as ever. I’m stopped at the gilded wooden door by the gold-plated guardponies. Helmets have those blue hair-like tufts I keep forgetting what they’re called (at least they’re not plume feathers).
“State your name and business,” says the big palooka of an earth pony. No fooling with these guys; that tone means serious business.
“Spike, here to see the Princesses.” A unicorn by the gatehouse flips through a clipboard before looking up and giving his partner a nod.
“Entry granted.” The big guy steps aside as the gate parts way inward. The royal lawn looks fresh cut and blindingly green, only scathed by the occasional squad of soldiers running laps. Making my way up the stairs into the palace proper, I pass some posted guards, two of them giving me a salute. Fresh meat. I nod in passing. Over the plush flooring of the entry hall, up some more stairs, pass by endless high windows, and after three lengthy hallways I make it to outside the throne room. Some guards perform a security check, confiscate my sword (decorum), and I’m finally let in to meet the Ruling Sisters of Equestria.
Actually, I still have the full length of the throne room to cross before I get to them. It’s ever grandiose and expansive, with that mix of white and purple and high-vaulted ceiling. The sides of the room are shaded in different colors by the sunlight coming through the various stained glass windows featuring some of Equestria’s finest moments. I allow myself to look in the direction of the one starring me with the Crystal Heart. Yeesh, I look like a dope, holding up something about the same size as me. My first big spectacular hero moment right there (except for that invasion of cockatrices a few months before that. Funny how no one ever brings that up).
Finally I make it up to the dual thrones, and there, seated in her tall golden seat of power, is Princess of the Sun, Celestia. Doesn’t look to have aged a day since I started working (what’s eight years to a goddess anyway?), regal and grand and glowing ivory white, with that glorious sun emblazoned on her wide flank for all to see. And of course, her sparkly mint-flavored mane (I assume that’s its flavor) in perpetual breeziness. The glow of her pristine fur is all I can see, because I noticed there’s nothing darker to contrast with it next to her (that’s a fancy way of saying the other throne’s empty).
Her godly gaze turns to me. “Greetings, Spike. It has been a while.” Voice as soft and warm as a silken sweater. And just as mildly stiff. I kneel before her, head bowed (she’s my boss’ superior, after all).
“Salutations, Princess Celestia.” Gotta play the humble card, even if I’ve known her about as long as Twilight.
“Ahhh, the Infamous Fetcher graces us with his presence, haha.”
Oh brother, him? I look up, and materializing in the air over Celestia is the mismatch of animal parts and chaos that is Discord. It’s been years since Fluttershy reformed him, and to everyone’s surprise he stuck to it, being good and non-destructive. Which essentially amounted to him just bopping around the castle, making random mischief and generally being bored (I assume). On rare occasions he visits Flutters, but it's generally brief (good to know Celestia's got a leash on him). I don’t have the fondest memories of him from the old days, but our relations aren’t exactly hostile. It’s just I find him annoying most of the time and he likes to rub it in every chance he gets (hence my earlier assumption). Really don’t want to put up with his nonsense today.
“How has your day fared so far, Spike?” Celestia asks, just as Discord wraps his whole body around her like a constrictor. Guess eight years is enough time to grow indifferent to his antics.
“Yes, committed any random acts of violence to get yourself awake?” Discord adds, resting his lion and bird arms on Celestia’s mane. “As I recall, you’ve never been much of an early bird, even at midday. Or was that when you were still teeny tiny? Eh, I forget little details like that.”
Be calm, Spike; get this over with. Celestia nods, giving me the signal to get back on my feet.
“My day has been fair, Your Highness.”
“That is good to know,” Her Majesty replies. “Please forgive the absence of my sister. Luna has been under the weather as of recent.”
“Mm-yes, quite under the weather I would suspect,” Discord says while wearing a top hat and monocle, sipping from a dainty teacup with a forced accent. “Specifically, your weather, dear Celestia. Too much sunshine this past week. I’ve always told you the sun isn’t very good for the girl, what with her being the embodiment of night and everything. But you already knew that.”
Celestia takes that bit of chiding with a firm “hmph”. The Princess of the Moon has always been the more serious of the two, so it’s understandable she’d wear herself out and be in need of a rest (or maybe she doesn’t want to have anything to do with Princess Twilight today. That’s also probable).
“How fares Twilight Sparkle?”
“She is well, Your Highness, as is the rest of Ponyville. Everything is operating smoothly, and she is in the midst of finding new agents to replace the ones recently lost.”
“The control freak she is, I bet things would be operating smoothly, or ELSE, hahahaha,” quips Discord, who’s become a furry hat on Celestia’s head.
“I understand that was due to a Changeling, if I am correct.”
“Indeed it was, Your Highness. The last of its kind.”
“You are certain of this?” Celestia asks, now sporting a thick Discord-for-a-beard.
“Definitely. Changelings only work in groups, or at least never alone. The one in question was solely out for revenge toward me.”
“Well it’s about time somepony got around to giving you your comeuppance,” slithers Discord as he circles around my legs. “Someone as bad as yourself needs to be punished at some point.” He pops down from the air next. “Oh you know I kid, don’t try pretending to be all stoic-like.” Now he’s looming over my shoulder, a paw on my suit (don’t react, don’t react). “Changelings are simply the worst kinds of fighters around, deadly in numbers and when it comes to sneaking, sure, but they’re frail like plywood in a real scuffle.”
Discord blinks up to the top of a newly-formed diving platform, covered in all kinds of swimwear and gear. “I do feel sorry for that Chrysalis: she really had no other strategy other than infiltrate and invade from within, which has been proven to never work out so well. Just shows she wouldn’t have cut it as a good overlord.” He springs off the board and dives into the space before the vacant throne, which lets off a watery splash before Discord rises back up in a smug sitting position. Celestia finally gives him a firm look for his actions, and he takes notice.
“Oh, this reserved? My mistake.” He springs up from the throne and goes to stand by Celestia’s side. Ugh, I beg that he finally settled down.
“In any case,” Celestia resumes, not missing a beat. “The matter was handled expertly, as Twilight put it in her report. She is lucky to have one as capable as yourself serving her. Or rather, fated to be lucky to have someone like yourself.”
I give a slight bow. “You’re too kind, Your Highness.” I glance up through my shades to catch Discord making gagging motions, which he quickly hides to act innocent. Celestia lifts a hoof, and I straighten myself.
“As for things in Canterlot, they are going by just as smoothly, for the most part.” She rubs her chin. “Things are slowly but surely becoming busy with the Summer Sun Celebration only two months away. Getting everything organized will be exhausting as the day draws nearer, even with the help of Twilight. Luna plans to make the night especially brilliant for this year as well.”
“While I get the honor of making sure nothing chaotic happens during the ceremony. Well, anything that isn’t my doing, haha.” The old goat slaps his scaly knee.
“Otherwise, all is well,” Celestia continues. “And since all seems to be alright, I say we can end this meeting early.” Celestia tilts her head. “I would offer you some tea, but I suspect you would like to return to Ponyville right away.”
“Indeed, Your Highness.” I make another short bow. “I’ll deliver your best wishes to Twilight, and pray that Luna feels better soon.”
“That’s most considerate of you, Spike. You may go now.” As I turn around to leave Her Majesty’s presence, I notice Discord looking sickened by the proceedings (yeah, it’s kinda droll, but it’s routine). I get back out in the hall, the guards give back my sword, I nod them a “good work”, make my way back through winding halls and stairs, and soon enough I’m back into the bustle of the castle town.
Things around here had grown more political over the years, seemingly in-synch with Twilight’s adjustment to royal duty. Sure, Canterlot appears like a glimmering gem befitting any fairy tale, but the ones who make it run are anything but whimsical nowadays. With her student all grown up and an equal, doing her own thing in her own town, Celestia has made herself more reserved, focused on making the city operate like clockwork rather than staying in touch with her subjects on a personal level. This transition has gone over fine with Twilight, though, given how she’s spent her early years of immortality making herself into a just and fair ruler (air quote if necessary). Get-togethers between them are more or less sucked of the warmth they used to have, becoming as pleasant as a breakfast shared between two groggy roommates before going to their separate jobs.
Then there’s Luna. Never been a big fan of Twilight ascending to godhood, and she’s been showing more and more contempt with each passing year. Started off with mildly stern tones, then actual sternness, and at times actual scoffiness with a pinch of scorn. She managed to hide it under a cool attitude, but the last few meet-ups I’ve been to, she’s let her dissatisfaction slip through. There’s also the little acts of defiance, namely in the infrequency of her Night Courts, and making it full moon all the time. From what I've heard on the Canterlot grapevine, she's seen little and speaks even less. The result of jealousy over a younger princess taking attention from her? Moody about playing second fiddle for the umptenth time? Or maybe the years of being the more serious of the two sisters is finally wearing on her. Celestia might be right: she may need some rest.
Speaking of, there’s still an hour or so before my train arrives, meaning there’s time to kill. And in the happenin’ capital of the most prosperous nation in the world (or so the propaganda wants us to believe), the only question is what means shall time be killed? I walk in the direction of my answer.
Back into the enclosed recesses of the inner city, rife with ponies and the lifeblood of bits. Glancing over the architecture, its many curves and imperfections, I thought of comparing them to that of a lady of the night, then immediately chided myself for thinking of something as lame ass as that. I mean, Canterlot isn’t all glamor, but for someone to think like that must have a really crappy outlook on life, all cigarettes and alcohol and misogyny (besides, it’s daytime).
Just a short walk from the castle is a quaint shop that’s home to the best donuts around: Donut Joe’s. A nice retreat at any hour, for any occasion, to get lost in celebration or misery. Whatever’s on your mind, there’s a donut for whatever excites or ails you. Another rare fixture that has remained unchanged over the years, and a welcome sight whenever I come around. Since me and Joe go way back, I could say hello while helping myself to a snack.
Bell over the door jangles as I step through. Cursory glance shows the place is totally empty: seats, booths and counter are all for the taking. Another great thing about Joe’s: hardly ever a crowd, and guaranteed quiet at all hours of operation. I plant myself on a stool before the counter, settling myself into the realm of sugary delights and candy-stripe overload. The frame of the owner makes his way over.
“Hit me, Joe.”
The blow sends me flying clear across the shop, smashing through tables and chairs before I hit the ground flat on my back (still keep my head up, though). I slide until the back of my skull hits a booth and brings me to a stop. Shades are still in place (punch was strong, but not Pinkie strong). From the rather uncomfortable position at the back of the shop, I see the offending hoof being shook around by the paper-hatted donut peddler himself.
“You still owe your tab, ya cheapskate!” Friendly as always; how I love this place. I pull myself back up and brush myself off.
“Nice to see you too, Joe.” I step over the wreckage back to the counter. “You realize I won’t be cleaning this, right?”
“That’s fine, it’s my doing after all. I’ll just exercise my right to refuse service until you pay me in the meantime.”
“Yeah yeah, I get it.” I reach into my suit and pull out my personal bag of bits. I count them up while retaking my earlier seat, and after a pause I dump about half of it onto the countertop, close to Joe’s impatiently tapping hoof. Some twenty or so bits spread out, and he pokes at them (donuts aren’t that expensive, but I sure love them).
“Alright,” he grumbles, pulling the bits out of sight. “What’ll it be?”
“The usual, as usual.” He grunts before going over to the glass display case. Chocolate glaze, extra sprinkles (a childhood favorite), and a piping hot paper cup of cocoa (I’m usually on the go). Just the thing I need to get out of this doldrum of a day.
“Is the kid getting anything?”
“...What kid?” I follow Joe’s gaze to the seat to my left, and sure enough, there’s a white-feathered ball-capped face looking at me, agleam with joyful patience and anticipation. Celestia dammit...
“Found me, huh?” I don’t let on my displeasure except for the rough tone in my voice. The griffon simply nods.
“Yup!” And back to that gaping beak-faced smile. Right when the day was picking up for me, too.
“Isn’t your mother looking for you?”
“She’s still shopping. I told you she takes forever. And you weren’t gone for too long, so I just waited outside the castle and waited and waited and just when I felt like taking a nap you came back out, then I followed you into here and that’s how I got here! Was this place such a mess when you came in?”
Nails on a chalkboard. Seriously, what’s parenting come to when an unescorted child is left to wander the streets of a big unfamiliar city? Then again, I’m no expert in the field of griffon child-rearing, so this kind of thing might be the norm.
“Get him an eclair,” I tell Joe.
“What flavor?”
“Whatever’s fresh.” Joe glares before getting the goods. I toss two bits onto the counter as he hands the treat to the kid, which he takes happily. Too late I think it a bad idea to be giving this kid sugar, but oh well.
“Thanks.” Kid gobbles it up, and keeps talking to me despite the glaze and cream filling sputtering out from his beak. “So yeah, you said if I found you we could keep talking about stuff. I’ve been thinking about something I’d really like to talk about that only you could answer, cuz it’s sorta private and I don’t want to bring it up with my parents or any of my friends.”
“That’s swell. Hey, I need to step outside and get some fresh air first.”
“Okay, I’ll come along,” he says as he swallows the last piece of eclair. Do I have to smack this kid to make him get the message? But I can’t go doing that. Would paint a bad picture for me and Twilight to perform child abuse in public, and like I said, I’m usually fine with them. I get up, taking my goods along, and exit out into the mildly warm afternoon with the kid following along like a chipper terrier.
We’re not half a block from the donut shop when he speaks up again. “Had enough fresh air?”
“Not just yet.” Some more silence, mixed with the background of city streets.
“How about now?”
“Hugghhhh.” Have to face the music: if I want this to end, I have to give him what he wants. “Yeah, but let me find a place to sit and eat.”
“Oh. Couldn’t you have done that back at the shop?” Sharp as a whip. Reminds me of my younger, slightly less snarky self. How much I hate that earlier version of me right now. I ignore the kid, and he doesn’t seem to object. Some more walking and we’re at the edge of the city that overlooks the plains far below. Sun is high overhead, and there are ponies standing around on the glass by the road, or laying down for picnics on checkered blankets. Idyllic dribble for masses ignorant of corruption or despair. Lucky them.
There’s an empty bench close by, and I head for that and take a seat. Shades make the sunlight tolerable, and I start to bite into my donut as the kid sits on the ground. Damn fine sprinkles, Joe.
“So, what’d you want to talk about?” Time to get this over with.
“Oh, well, first I wanna say that you’re really cool and stuff, but you probably know that from before.”
“That I do.” I take a sip of the cocoa as he talks. Still warm.
“I also mentioned that I was going to get another brother or sister soon, if you remember, and that I had to take on more responsibilities. I said how I was a little nervous about it too, right?”
“Yeah. New siblings can do that to ya.” If anything, I had been the brat of the “family”. Vaguely recall having a baby phoenix for about a week before giving it back, but not really a life-shaping experience.
“Anyways, um...” Uh-oh, hesitation. This might be a big deal. “I started thinking of how I could be more responsible, and I thought more and more about it lately. Does that mean doing more chores? Finding a job over the summer? I asked dad about it awhile ago, and he told me that it means I’ll be responsible for looking after my brother or sister. Thing is, I don’t know how to do that. I’ve never had to look after someone before, except my goldfish Goldie, but he died way back when I forgot to feed him. And that makes me worry more when I think about it—”
“Is there a point somewhere in there?” Donut is long done, and there’s still half a cup of cocoa, getting colder.
“Oh, yeah! Umm, what I wanted to talk to you about is... can you teach me how to be a Fetcher?”
“...Huh?” Bout spilled my cocoa as I look him square in the face. “What’d you say?”
“Well, not yet, I’m not old enough I think.” If only that had been the case... “The thing is, looking after someone means being able to protect them, to be strong and brave. The strongest and bravest person I know is you, Spike. Dad looks strong, but he’s big and a griffon so he’s supposed to be. But I’m small and don’t have any muscles, but others talk about how you take down tough guys way taller than you. You’re taller than most ponies, but you don’t really have muscles, and still you do all those awesome things.” Gee thanks, kid. “So maybe you could show me how to do that kind of stuff, learn to fight, that kind of thing? Dad’s too busy to teach me, and mom isn’t really a fighter. Well, she can claw pretty good if she’s mad, but I think that’s different than regular fighting. Anyway, I just wanted you to show me to be strong and brave like you are. If you’re okay with that?”
I should say I feel honored, but this needs to be addressed seriously. I wait a moment to make sure that he has said the entirety of everything that’s on his mind, and then I open my reply with a sigh. “Listen, kid, I’m gonna level with ya. First of all, my job isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Few jobs ever are, but mine especially so. I make it look easy, but it’s tough-goings from the start, and you see things, do things you wouldn’t think of ever doing. It’s a steep price to pay to be as tough and brave as me.”
Kid’s all ears, hanging on every word, eyes not leaving my shades. I bend forward to get more on his level. “Besides, those are lousy reasons to get into my line of work. There are other ways to get strong and brave, even ones manageable for a runt like you.”
“Such as?” Cut through the crap on this one, huh? I shrug.
“I dunno. Karate lessons? Go to a gym?”
“Maybe, but I don’t know if my parents will let me...”
“Wouldn’t hurt to try.” I look back out over the verdant plains below. Can’t feel the warmth of the cocoa through the paper anymore. “Though what’s really important is that the idea of being brave is in you to begin with. Being strong helps, but if you got it in your head that you’ll protect someone no matter what, bravery comes natural. Certainly was the case for me a few times when I was your age, and way smaller.”
“You protected someone even then?”
“Yeah, I did.” Back when I thought she truly mattered. “So really, kid, it’s in the heart (blugh). Also, it’s the thought that counts.”
He’s silent a moment. “Huh... Never thought it like that.”
“You could get some practice done before the big day.” I down the rest of my drink. Nothing but icy sludge. “Don’t worry yourself, you’ll do alright. Your heart’s in the right place from what you told me. Though you could work on being more succinct in the future.”
“Oh, okay (don't know what "succinct" is). Thanks Spike!” He hops up with a beaming grin. “That made me feel a little better. But, since mom’s still shopping around, maybe you could show me a fighting move or two?”
“Not today.” I crush the paper cup and toss it overhead to the trash can over to my left. Bounces off the edge and falls onto the grass. Nuts. “Hey, could you get that for me? Littering’s bad, y’know.”
“Sure!” He moves around the back of the bench, and the sound of rumpled paper on metal says he did his job well. He walks back over and comments, “Hey, there are ponies running around.”
“So? Ponies are always running around in the city.”
“They look upset about something.”
“City life can be pretty upsetting. You’ll learn that someday as well.” The daylight dims a little, probably from a passing cloud, or an airship.
“I don’t think it’s that. Actually, they’re looking up at something in... the... Whoa...” The kid stares off into the sky, as I pick up growing chatter from behind me. Concerned murmurings, exclamations. Looking left and right I see citizens gathering on the grass, looking in the same direction skyward, pointing and looking frightened. The daylight has dimmed even further, darkened even, with a bit of red tinge added. That’s when I decide to look up... Well, that’s worth being concerned about. I merely huff; this really hasn’t been my day.
“Hey, lemme ask you something, kid: do you know what it’s called when the moon blocks out the sun?”