//------------------------------// // Epilogue // Story: The Stallion in the Library // by leonidas701 //------------------------------//         *Tick-Tock* *Tick-Tock*         Card sat in his home office, glaring at the incessantly ticking clock with no small degree of trepidation. Awaiting the inevitable chime, the sound that would put an end to his relaxation. His legs were fidgeting, for the seventh time he picked up one of the many official pens on his desk only to put it back down again.         He was severely regretting letting all of his subordinates go off to escort their friends home after the party as it left him without any source of distraction from the inevitability of what was to come. He was regretting not accepting Pie’s offer of sticking around for a little while after he took her home even more, though that would have distracted him for much longer than he was willing to allow, wanting to be finished with the whole business as quickly as possible.         *Tick-Tock* *Tick-Tock*         He briefly considered doing something about that ticking noise. Now, I would hate to leave the readers with any impression that just because Card is nervous means he suddenly becomes rational. His ideas were:         -Turn the clock into a slice of watermelon         -Cover the clock with a blanket         -Turn the clock into a blanket         -Turn his blanket into a watermelon         -Turn his chair into a watermelon         -Become a watermelon (This one he quickly discarded upon realizing that there would be no way to eat himself, and either way the process was bound to be unpleasant.)         -Get some watermelon         -Set the clock on fire         -Cover the clock with a watermelon         -Watermelon (Not the word mind you, just a picture of a watermelon)         -Make the clock dispense a lop of soft-serve into his mouth with every tick and sprinkles with every tock         -Forgo the sprinkles         -Go to the kitchen and get some food         -Make Ike go to the kitchen and get some food         -Certain acts that I cannot repeat here without changing the stories rating         -Purple         He decided to enact the plan to go to the kitchen, ignoring the part of his brain that was against all forms of physical exertion. When he got to the kitchen, he discovered that Odd had made it home.         For the sake of sparing your sanity, dear reader, I will not describe what an Audacity Midnight Binge, copyright 2532, looks like. However, the mere fact that Card was able to go into one, head first, and not only remained in possession of all his limbs, but follow through with his plan to eat in the midst of such… feasting, should give you some idea of his level of physical restraint.         After he finished his nearly-hour-past-midnight snack, and made a note to take the cost of three plates, seven forks, five spoons, and a new end table out of Odd’s salary, he made his way back to his study.         Upon re-entering however, he was treated to the realization that his plan had, in fact, done nothing to stop the clock’s ticking.         He decided that there was only one rational thing to do. He would later decide that perhaps he should have done that instead as he tried to convince the blast marks to remove themselves from his wall. Also, if they could perhaps take the annoying ticking clock that was on the wall attached to theirs with them, then that would be lovely.         As he was in the middle of arguing, very calmly mind you, with the inanimate streaks of dust, he came upon a revelation. He was so focused that he could no longer hear the ticking.         This moment instantly turned bittersweet as his lapse in focus made him aware of the noise again, this time seemingly even louder, as though it was offended at being ignored. This is, of course, impossible as sound is a mindless movement of particles, and shame on you for forcing your views on how a substance should act based solely on your own personal feelings! Next you’ll be trying to force it to vote.         I feel that I would be remiss in my duties if I did not inform you that while I was chewing you out, Card was still planning ways out of his predicament. He began to start his next plan, which I unfortunately can not relay to you in full, rest assured that it did involve a watermelon along with: an octopus, a nail gun, and a triangle, because he did not have time to enact it. One o’clock a.m. had come, the time that Card was so dreading.         He braced himself and closed one eye, torn between not wishing to look upon it and knowing that he must eventually so he might as well get it over with.         The office filled with sounds akin to multiple bags of popcorn all going off at once as stacks upon stacks of paper appeared, teleported to him from all over the kingdom. Card flinched with each pop, for each one symbolized more time he would have to dedicate to work. Gradually the sounds stopped. Card went to his desk, grabbed the first sheet that was within reached and picked up his pen.         As he looked over the request to redirect some of the incoming boats of an island that didn’t have enough ports for the massive amount of trade that took place on it, he was forced to admit to himself that his six-month long vacation was over. It was time for him to get back to being the Crown Prince.         Faced with this, Card could only allow himself to utter one word before throwing himself into his work. But what a word. Contained within it was all of his rage, his sorrow, and his weary resignation to the role that he must play.         “Fuck.”