The last few hours of her life felt surreal as she shut her apartment door and turned the key. She had been accepted into the skies after months of failures. She almost expected to see an ecstatic little sister and encouraging pair of parents run up to her to congratulate her while her older siblings praised her in their usual way, by mentioning how much better they did at their age. Slumping to the floor she knew that would probably never happen again though, the days of family being a mixed blessing rather than a curse had passed the moment she failed ironically.
Now arriving home was a greeting of dirty clothes thrown haphazardly around the floor and her roommate once again on their bed pitching a tent underneath the sheets and snoring softly until she closed his door averting her eyes and holding her breath until she was far enough away to not gag. Her usual moments like these were short lived before work called and demanded she get dressed and try to pay the other half of her bills waiting tables.
Tonight was a rare moment though, as she walked back home her usual customers heckled her as per usual until she for once told them she wasn’t going to be coming back to them tonight. Ideally she would have rather been fired after a night of insulting the usual scum that frequented her workplace or kept her mouth shut in favour of severance pay instead. Now despite being loaded with another week’s worth of groceries she would never eat as she read the letter over again that she felt unusually giddy.
The gilded grey and black letters she skimmed over promised her money and excitement that only sports stars could achieve, that is dangerous work that almost guaranteed harm and a salary that almost made the danger worth no second though. What stood out to her though was inked in green down the bottom right of her form Lightning Dust: Approved For Active Duty. Were it mentioned by any other pony she would have said it was petty and pathetic, but knowing that somepony specifically wanted Lighting Dust and nopony else still sent a tremor through her wings whenever she read the personalised mention a stamp lacked.
That and the style of writing that only the illusive mare could have written was pleasant opportunity for her depleted ego, unless the vulgar giant of a stallion had unusually elegant and feminine penmanship. With a Cheshire grin she carefully placed the letter away careful not to damage it and set about unloading her roommate’s shopping. Despite his tendencies to indecently expose himself or infuriate her with his laziness she couldn't bring herself to dislike him being in a similarly overworked state most of the week.
Still she would never compare two jobs to one though, let alone both of hers. Besides while she didn't outright dislike him she could still envy that fact he had days off and probably enough money to cover her side of the rent when she left. With a huff as she closed his refrigerator and sat down on one of his chairs at his table she couldn’t help but think the stallion probably had it in him to go a lot further up the chain provided he actually put some effort into his job. Still, wealthier than her or no she still made a deal with him to give a week’s notice before leaving.
And with great difficultly she put down her side of the rent for the next week along with enough food to ease her absence. While elated she was going to have another shot at life seeing that many bits leave her was heart wrenching enough, thinking about what she would have to do to regain them should she fail was terrifying.
With a deep breath to steel herself she hopped down from the chair and began picking up her clothes around the room. Her possessions were mostly in her saddlebag anyway, still packed from the day she left home. Her various pieces of clothing ranging from her waitress dress to a janitorial suit were still lying around and needed to be washed before return. Normally her ever negligent roommate would fail to notice her work clothes when mixed with his and washed them free of charge for her.
Garments being rarer in a society that didn’t wear them save for unique occasions meant that cleaning them was done at home or professionally at a launder which she couldn't afford with so few bits to her name at the moment. And without any detergent or spell to do it at home cleaning the various stains her outfits acquired through the day or night equated to a scrubbing brush and far more time than she usually wanted to spend with it.
The lack of food made the otherwise unpleasant task painful as well as arduous, her growling stomach kept twisting the taste of the wooden handle of the brush into an unusually tempting morsel despite the smell. Distractions were usually the key that got her through these boring tasks, the empty bottle of liquid that would have made this job a lot easier sitting there to remind her of the flight suit the academy had the audacity to demand back.
The extra half hour or so every time she needed to wash her uniforms almost made using the last of the soap to dissolve the skin tight suit seem like a bad decision. For better or worse though the look on the mailmare’s face when she accepted a bottle of blue and yellow slurry with string floating in it was as priceless as the prospect of a new jug of detergent. Besides as long as the phrase “thanks miss but I’m not thirsty right now” was committed to memory she could laugh as hard as she wanted as long as she didn’t think about the clueless pony actually drinking the mixture.
Finishing with a smirk she spat out the brush and hung the old uniform out to dry in the shower and thought over her mental checklist of the evening. Normally whenever she found privacy and or silence she would honour the quiet moment of her day, or week if job hunting grew hectic, by spending it in bed. And as tempting as that sounded with an empty belly she still had some kick left in her.
Wiping the floor with a determined grin she cautiously balanced her weight between her legs and her outstretched wings nervously lowering herself in the familiar wing-up position. She hadn’t had the chance to fall back into her usual routine for months now and coupled with the fact that she hadn’t been preening her wings as religiously as she once had her flying had suffered. Removing her front legs from the ground and balancing on her primary feathers she experimentally tried to do a wing-up.
With some success and pain a dull feeling between her wings she pressed on reaching five brushes with the dirty tile floor before slipping and falling. Brushing her mane out of her face she tried again only to have the pain in her stomach become too much. Her third attempt brought her the same agony but in her joints, seizing until she feel onto her side. Rubbing her injured jaw and standing on shaky legs in defeat she looked into the bathroom mirror and fought the urge to vomit.
Scowling she turned the sink taps on and gulped down mouthfuls of water and air before shutting the valve off and shifting into the position again, she hung there for a moment simply thinking.
There was a lot she desired but much that she wished to be rid of at the moment, the most prominent being the food in the refrigerator. There was not only none of her food there, there was NONE. There was not a single bit of her debt she could easily fly away with tomorrow there was NOTHING there to take or needed to be given. She was at ground level, the very base line of the world without anything to prove to anyone. There were no chances of failure, not ten, not a hundred or a thousand wing-up she had to do or had done before.
With a huff, and the feeling of wind in her mangled mane she opened her eyes to find the tile perhaps an inch from her nose. Then she began again, pain coming and going with every movement in her wings and number she softly whispered to herself as she came back up. Somehow she hit fifty marks, then jumped from her wings to her forelegs without missing a beat. She repeated this cycle once more before falling to the ground and unceremoniously lying there in caked in sweat. Eventually once the power to rise again came to her she observed the mare in the mirror again, there at least she had some more claim to her roots. The physical mandate for Pegasus cadets had taken more out of her body than her appearance, still it looked like she had gotten into a fight with a steam train.
And by Luna the smell was probably potent enough to wake Wheat up, she reasoned stepping into the shower to get rid of any thoughts of becoming more like her roommate. She realised her error the moment she turned the dial as freezing water hit her heated body. For once the water felt nice though prompting her tired limbs to hurry before that inevitably changed for the worse.
There was little room in her schedule for pleasure but she felt liked she deserved one thing before leaving tomorrow. Done with her shower and no longer stricken with shaking limbs she took a comb and pair of scissors and set to work removing her phony tail styled hair and fringe, working her mane into a more suitable and aerodynamic cut.
With a quick shake to remove excess water from her coat her windswept mane stayed put, without some gel it would be hard to keep it that way for long once she set off flying in the morning, or if she flew judging by how badly her wings hurt, and impossible if she was going to go to sleep. Still she looked almost exactly like she had been before the Wounderbolts removed her from the academy, and hopefully a lot less like she spent most of her day working rather than working out.
With a soft sigh she sluggishly returned to her bedroom. Tomorrow would doubtlessly spell out hell to pay for her sudden workout and departure if she knew her roommate at all. Which was thankfully not that well considering how rarely they talked outside breakfast. With grunt she fell into bed rolling around and still quite sore but finally appeased.