//------------------------------// // XV - A Sponge to Wipe Away the Past (Hoofghanistan - Pt. I) // Story: At Your Service // by Deyeaz //------------------------------// XV - A Sponge to Wipe Away the Past (Hoofghanistan - Pt. I) -A week later-         “‘On one condition’,” grumbled Midnight on the train to the station in Hoofghanistan. “One condition, my ass.” He could do nothing but look at the window of the zooming landscape, the trees, grass, and mountains gradually growing scarce and melting into the arid vastness of desert.         “Get over it,” barked Frédéric from next to him. “You should be lucky that Octavia is being nice enough to allow you to even go in the first place.”         “Careful, buddy, It’s generally not a smart idea to irritate your only translator,” the other male snapped. “Keep it up, I’ll repay the favor by telling the next gun-wielding Hoofghani that you’d be glad to give his Beretta a blowjob.”  Frédéric got a worried look on his face as he realized the possible future. “Capiche?” The pianist nodded nervously.         “Midnight, stop it!” Octavia hissed from the opposite seat. “You’re scaring him with your…. barbarism.”         “Yes, because severe warnings do belong in the Dark Ages.”         “What crawled up your arse and took refuge?” scoffed Octavia, face contorted in disbelief. “It’s only been a few hours since we got on the train.”         “Yeah, and I haven’t smoked for the past two days during us getting ready for this trip. Withdrawal is curb-stomping me in the groin right now,” growled the Sarosian in agitation.         “Well, surely, you could wait just a little longer,” she reasoned.         “I dunno, Tavi,” said Vinyl, momentarily slipping off her white headphones. “Withdrawal isn’t something that you can just casually leave alone.” Midnight continued to fidget in his seat, irritable that the nicotine from his lights was being cleansed from his bloodstream. Gritting his teeth, twiddled his thumbs, reciting all of the digits of pi.         Nothing really succeeded. Octavia noticed the symptoms of his ailment. Though she was not a chronic smoker or drinker, she was well aware of the addiction factors. She may not have experienced withdrawal, but she didn’t need an explanation on what it looked like. The Sarosian’s contracted pupils, twitchy hands, and irritability all announced that he was in agony. Only on the thirty-seventh digit of pi did he finally snap from the pain of detoxification. “Okay, I’m losing what little sanity I have left.” He reached for his suitcase and burrowed into its contents for his packet of lights. “I have to go outside for a minute or two.” He walked towards the back of the train, mouth itching to swallow the nicotine stick whole.         He pried the door to the open back ajar, the wind whipping him slightly. He pulled out his zippo, flicked it alight, and held the open blaze to the end of the light, pulling at it with his lungs to get it to stay burning strong. Physiologically, his blood pressure was rising like a cork in water, but he was relaxed in a psychological sense. “Thank heavens….” he sighed, leaning against the rail cautiously. The heat of the desert sun began radiating his head through his black hat. Rather than letting his brain bake in his skull, he took off his hat, and let his mane fly in front of him. He continued to peacefully whittle away at his cigarette, blowing smoke rings—or at least trying to, as the train’s slipstream of air shattered the smoke to pieces. He stopped trying, and started panicking when he heard the door open and close behind him. “Sweet Celestia,” said an discomforting voice. Midnight groaned as Frédéric chortled into his hand. “You look like a little filly!” He chuckled. “Screw you!” the other stallion barked. Frédéric was still laughing stupidly. “Stop giggling, damn it!” Midnight was slowly losing his composure, lips twitching. ‘Oh, Faust, it’s contagious.’  He finally broke down, laughing with him. It took a good moment before they both reached a less tensed silence. For odd reasons, he didn’t feel uncomfortable about his mane this time around. Maybe it was because he had already shown it to Scorch Shot. Regardless, it felt better to no longer have to worry about it. The two of them leaned forward on the rail, looking at the tracks zoom beneath them. “Think she bought that little spat we had?” “I think so,” responded Frédéric. “But in any case, sorry for heckling you like that on the train.” “The apology is mutual.” Midnight offered a light to him, but Frédéric politely declined. “I have a feeling she’ll catch on. What did you tell them when you got up?” “I told them that I should make sure you didn’t blow up the train.” “Well, given that I’m Middle Eastern, I can see how they bought that.” Frédéric snorted at the remark. “So… you gonna tell Octavia any time soon?” Frédéric blinked, the cogs in his equine brain churning. “I want to come clean,” he said in the end, after several seconds of strenuous thinking. “I really do… but I’m a little afraid. I’m not prepared for what Octavia would say. Mares are unpredictable, after all.” “Not really,” joked Midnight. “Buy them chocolate, tell them they’re pretty, and you’ll be just fine.” “Ah, if only it were that simple.” The sound of a door opening made them both jump, almost off of the train. They whipped around nervously to see– “Oh, my Goddess!” giggled Octavia, Vinyl stifling her snickers behind her. “You look–” “– like a mare, yes. I already heard the joke,” Midnight sighed, once the ladies’ laughter died down. “I actually said ‘little filly’,” interjected Frédéric. “Put a sock in it.” Midnight, putting out his fag against the rail and flicking it off the train, then said to the mares, “You came over because…?” “Don’t be rude, half-breed,” retorted Frédéric, falling back into their ruse again. “Thank you, Frédéric,” began Octavia, “but with this one, I can fight my own battles.” Frédéric looked downtrodden, in which Midnight fired at him a boasting, victorious look. “I came to inform you that we’ll be in Jalalabuck in five minutes, according to the conductor. We should gather our things and head out.” “Okay. Thanks for letting us know.” Midnight then quickly glanced at Frédéric. ‘Are you going to tell her, or sit on your ass and do nothing?’ Frédéric seemed to get the message. With a burning face, he struggled to find the words to say, “Actually, Octavia… I have something to tell you. Could we… stay behind a little while?” The charcoal mare’s cheeks was glowing the same color as the garnet sands beneath the train. “Uh… um, of course.” “We should go,” Vinyl told Midnight, the two of them ready to return to their train cabins. As Midnight went to put his cap back on his head and sheathing his mane, Vinyl quickly put a hand on his wrist to stop him. “Leave it off…” she said, cheeks smoldering. “You look good without it on.” Midnight paused, processing her words. He slowly lowered his hat down, and pocketed it. “Alright, then….” he mumbled. They returned to their seats. The way she kept eyeballing the hair was irking him: he knew exactly what she wanted. “You can touch it.” He deadpanned. “Thank you.” She didn’t hesitate in her actions, immediately playing with his mane like a cat would with a ball of yarn. It was a good thirty seconds, give or take, before she realized she should stop. The passengers were beginning to stare. “Okay, I’m done,” she said, sitting on her hands to keep from reaching out and touching Midnight’s mane again. “Well?” said Midnight. “What?” “Usually, after somepony fondles my hair, they voice their thoughts.” “…It’s smooth. It’s like… I dunno, touching really fancy silk or something like that,” said the alabaster mare. Seconds later, Octavia and Frédéric returned from the train’s rear, the mare sitting with Vinyl grumpily, and the stallion with Midnight, almost defeated. “I take it the conversation went well.” Silence. Both were of opposite levels of upset to speak. Octavia then leered angrily at Midnight. The Sarosian noticed this, and retorted, “Oh, so this is my fault?” “You should have told me sooner!” Midnight opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. He didn’t want to pick a petty fight with her. Not when he was about to reunite with his family. All he could do was swallow his pride and his fury in one go. “I’m sorry,” he grunted. “I guess I should have let you know. But in my defense, I feel like making a new friend isn’t something I should just announce to the whole world.” Octavia scowled. She was still very peeved about being left in the dark, considering it was a topic between her crush and her workhorse. But at least the apology brought her boiling behavior to a simmer. “Okay. Just… I’d like to be notified of these things.” “I had a feeling you two would be pals,” Vinyl interrupted. “I take it you two are joined by a common factor?” Midnight and Frédéric looked at each other nervously. Internally, both of them were swearing profusely at this surprise question. “True… Usually, there’s something you two ought to like for you to even remotely consider basing a relationship on,” Octavia said, amethyst eyes scanning the two of them. “Uh… uuhhhh, fantasy hoofball,” answered Midnight. ‘No shame.’ Octavia and Vinyl looked at the both of them. “What.” It wasn’t so much a question, as it was a statement. Frédéric was sweating from the pressure. “Er, yeah!” “The sport where mares play hoofball in skimpy lingerie?” Vinyl said. “Yep.” Midnight quickly responded. “It’s damn thrilling. Ain’t it, Freddy? Watchin’ them wrestle and wriggle around over a muddy ball.” The passengers who had stared at Vinyl during her mane-petting crusades, and then some, turned their heads in incredulity at his words, a few in interest, most in disgust. “A-absolutely,” stammered Frédéric. “It’s quite fun to watch….” As soon as he trailed off, he hissed at Midnight from the corner of his mouth, “What are you doing?!”  “Just roll with it!” he growled. They looked at the mares anxiously, hoping that they would buy it.  Octavia’s and Vinyl’s eyes met, and they deadpanned in bland unison, “Stallions.” Frédéric and Midnight let loose breaths that they didn’t know they were holding in. ‘That was close…’ The train came to a stop outside the Drawazah Train Station in Jalalabuck. The passengers gathered their possessions from the storage compartments above, and soon exited the Friendship Express. They felt the blast of the desert heat permeating the air, making them desire the air conditioned cabins of the train again. Midnight looked around for their pick-up. “She said she’d be here.” “Who’d be here?” Frédéric asked. “My mother,” he replied. He continued scanning the massive crowd around him, the ponies bustling about importantly to reach their desired destination. He felt a finger poke him on the shoulder from behind. It wasn’t rough enough to be Octavia’s, it was too feminine to be Vinyl’s and Frédéric’s. “Gee, who could that be?” He said sarcastically, one obvious choice left for him. He turned, and saw a mare a head shorter than him. She was wearing a white blouse with yellow threading, and a pair of denim mom jeans. She shared Midnight’s dark grey fur, fringed ears, and even his white hair. The only differences between them, other than gender, were the eyes and the breed. Her eyes were serpentine, yet they were a piercing azure color. Moreover, she had dark, leathery bat wings instead of a horn. ((I never could surprise you,)) she said to him in Ponsi, a feeble smile spreading upon her lips, and a tear almost developing in her eyes. ((I had a feeling you’d be too smart for anypony to handle.)) ((Fret not. I’m still the same stupid kid you birthed and raised.)) Midnight grinned back, and swallowed the mare into his arms, hugging her tightly. ((I’ve missed you, Mama,)) he said weakly. ((I’ve missed you as well, sweetheart,)) his mother responded back, embracing her son for the better half of a minute. “Are these your friends?” she finally asked in Equuish. Midnight was taken aback by the format of the question. Her accent was apparent, but it seemed her grasp on the language was strong. “You’re learning,” he said happily. “But of course,” his mother replied. “I thought it would be quite fun to learn something new.” She let go of Midnight, and approached his entourage. “It is nice to meet you. I am Midnight’s mother.” “A pleasure to meet you, madame,” Frédéric said, extending his hand to her. She grabbed hold and shook. “My name is Frédéric.” “It is wonderful to meet you, Frédéric,” the mare replied. Midnight almost snickered. His mother hadn’t mastered contractions yet. “It’s lovely to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” said Octavia. “I’m Octavia, and this is my friend, Vinyl.” “Yo-ha, bro-ha,” Vinyl said nonchalantly. The mare giggled slightly and said, “Please, call me Galaxy.” All three newcomers looked at each other, and turned to Midnight. “I think I’m gonna like your mom,” announced Vinyl. Galaxy let another giggle escape her again. ((Let’s go, shall we?)) she said to Midnight. He nodded, and informed everyone that they were heading out. All four of them exited the station. Vinyl, Frédéric, and Octavia gasped in awe at how massive the city looked and how bustling the streets were. The pedestrians were greeting each other, talking animatedly and fervently with one another, playing cards, drinking cappuccinos in front of the cafés that frequented the block. “Whoa…” hummed Vinyl. “‘Whoa’ is an understatement,” Frédéric responded. “This place looks… fascinating.” “This is… hey, where are they going?” Octavia noticed Galaxy and Midnight walking towards an archway next to the station. The archway bore a long set of spiraling stairs that burrowed underground. The three of them followed Midnight and his mother down below. Lamps were placed on the sides of the wall to permit visibility. Soon, the walls came to a stop, but the stairs carried on for a good fifty feet. That was when their jaws really dropped. While above ground was a sight to see, writing home to loved ones about the underground city below Jalalabuck would not do this sight justice. Homes, shops, schools, hospitals, departments, even a sports stadium: all of them were carved carefully out of the stone. The heat of the sun was definitely minimized, leaving everypony beneath the ground cool and sheltered. Grand lamps attached to columns that supported the city above brought luscious light onto the world below. Holes in the cavernous ceiling allowed underground greenhouses and gardens to flourish, or for fervent stargazers to read the beautiful lunar inscriptions in the night sky. A closer look at the pedestrians and citizens showed that they were mostly Sarosians. There were a fair handful of unicorns like Midnight. Most of them, though, were Pegasi like Galaxy. But that was not to say that the city was not without diversity. There were regular ponies like Vinyl, Octavia, and Frédéric. There were also some gryphons, zebras, and even Diamond Dogs and minotaurs. “Daaaaaamn,” Vinyl murmured, a grin slowly spreading. They reached the bottom of the stairs and walked towards a garnet-coloured SUV. Galaxy unlocked the trunk, and the four in her company placed their luggage in back. Octavia was especially careful with her cello. “This is gonna be loads of fun, Tavi, don’tcha think?” “This… absolutely looks promising,” said Octavia, recovering from her stunned-in-awe status as all of them boarded the car. Starting the car, Midnight felt his heart soar a little bit. He was elated and proud that she was liking his hometown. “It’ll definitely be fun. I promise.” Pulling out of their parking spot, he slowly lowered his hoof down on the gas, and they drove down the roads. Nostalgia seeped into his brain as he traversed down the meandering streets of the Neighngarhar district. Some of the pedestrians waved at them, or smiled at them as they passed, and they were glad to return the warm welcome. “It’s been a week. I take it Dad is back?” asked Midnight. “Why, yes,” responded Galaxy as Midnight pulled into the property of a large rectangular estate. “He and your grandmother cannot wait to see you.” “We’re going to meet his dad?” Frédéric questioned. “Yep,” answered Midnight as he shut off of the car and opened the trunk remotely. “You’re probably gonna like my old man, guys.” They exited the SUV, gathered their belongings, and wheeled them towards the house. Galaxy went and closed the gate of the driveway as they entered the building. As the others placed their luggage by the stairs, Midnight walked briskly down the hall and wailed, ((Guess who’s hoooome?!)) into the bowels of the establishment. He couldn’t help it: he was going to see his brothers and sisters again after nine years of separation. Sure enough, a parade of teenagers and young children came rushing towards him from the living room on the right.  All of the eleven that appeared varied in breed and gender, but they knew their surrogate brother as soon as he announced his presence. They tackled him in one collaborative hug, the tall Sarosian going down like a felled tree. “AAHHH!” he screamed as his younger siblings began assaulting him with questions and heartfelt welcomes. ((Where’ve you been, brother?!)) ((We’ve missed you!)) ((Welcome home, Midnight!)) ((What’s Canterlot like?!)) ((Did you meet the Princesses?!)) ((Of course he met the Princesses, you dork! He works with them!)) All of Midnight’s entourage, including Galaxy, laughed at the comical scene. The fallen Sarosian could only smile happily as he returned the embrace to all of his loved ones. ((Relax, little ones. I’ll tell you all during dinner,)) he said, placing the knocked-aside glasses back on his muzzle. The small children cleared the way and allowed him to chance to get up. ((Welcome home, Midnight,)) said a mare in the living room, putting down her magazine. Midnight recognised her constantly calm, almost nonchalant speech pattern. She had Galaxy’s blue eyes, leathery wings, and white mane, but the latter was cut short. On her left cheekbone was a birthmark. She was decked out in a black tank top, dark camo fatigues, and some punk accessories, ranging from ears decorated with piercings to a pair of spiked armbands. She went to Midnight and hugged him briefly. ((It’s been a while.))         ((Hey, Night,)) he said to his sister. ((Great to see you again. Where’re Star and Dad at?))         ((Star’s in the backyard with Grandma, picking mint for the tea. Dad’s washing up in the bathroom.))         Vinyl, Octavia, and Frédéric entered the living room, a little impressed by how well-kept it was. The couches were made out of long mattresses propped on the floor and walls, with a decent-sized television propped on a table at the end of the room. On the Middle Eastern rug was a decorative plastic sheet. “Dinner’s ready?” Midnight asked.         “Yeah. We just need to put it all on the plastic,” Night looked over at Midnight’s entourage. “I take it these are your buds.” She walked over to them. “Hello, there. I’m Night Glider, Midnight’s older sister.” They all shook her hand, Frédéric and Octavia in concern, Vinyl in intrigue.         “You got a twin sister, right, Night?” Vinyl then inquired, once the greetings were out of the way.         “She does!” answered a bubbly voice. Another mare walked in, sporting Night’s eyes, mane, and wings. She was instead wearing a light blue sundress, and her longer mane was in a Prench braid. Other than that, the two looked almost identical in body shape and facial structure. She walked over, clutching a handful of mint sprigs. ((Hi, Midnight! I’ve missed you!)) she greeted, giving his brother a hug.         ((Hey, Star! Great to see you!)) he replied.         ((Same, buddy!)) Star let go and approached his friends. “Hello! I’m Star Hopper, the other twin sister. It’s nice to meet you all.” She shook their hands. Vinyl got a shocking dose of vibes from Star that only a certain pink party animal from Ponyville really emanated. ((Grandma can’t wait to see you, Midnight! I’ll go get her,)) Star quickly said, before skipping outside through the screen door.         “What was that all about?” Vinyl asked. The grin on Midnight’s face only grew in intensity.         “She’s going to bring my grandmother,” he answered. They all got comfortable on the couchs. Midnight’s adopted brothers and sisters talked amongst themselves, played little games, and some even tried to talk with Midnight’s friends.         “Shamaa mo hai besiar zeeba, khanum,” complimented a little gryphon boy, only seven or eight in age, to Octavia.         “What did he say?” The cellist inquired.         “Gale said, ‘you have very pretty hair, ma’am’,” Midnight translated. Octavia blushed slightly, petting her mane self-consciously. She ran her hand over the gryphon’s tuft of feathers.         “How do you say thank you?” she asked of the Sarosian.         “Tashakor.”         “Tashakor, Gale,” she said to the gryphon, who grinned and walked off to play with his brothers and sisters. Midnight snickered at her accent. “What?” Octavia said, intrigued by his laughter. “You just sounded like such a foreigner,” he answered. “It was great.” “Oh, shut up,” she said… jokingly. They looked to his left and saw Vinyl sharing her headphones with another child, this one a Sarosian pegasus mare of ten. Frédéric was watching a game of soccer on the television with about four of the younger children. The others were in the kitchen helping Galaxy get the food on the plastic. “They look like they’re at home.” “Mi casa, su casa,” Midnight explained simply.         “Here’s the lady of the hour!” Star Hopper announced cheerily, walking cautiously behind her an elderly mare. She was short, dressed in dark traditional Hoofghani clothes, and bore the family’s white hair. Hers was as long as Midnight’s, and she had a horn like him, but her eyes were neither his vivid green nor Galaxy’s ocean blue. They were milky white, spawned from cataracts plaguing her vision. She walked with a cane in one hand, and Star guided her in her other. ((Somepony’s here to see you, Gran.))         ((I think I know who it is.)) The old mare carefully made her away around the plastic, avoiding knocking over the food and the children. She came and placed her hands on Midnight’s face, her sense of touch acting as her own personal sonar. She felt every nook with her gnarled, aged fingers: the shape of the eyes, the horn, the regrown goatee, the structure of his cheekbones. ((Where’ve you been, you snotty brat?)) She said jokingly.         The Sarosian in question laughed through choked-back tears, hugging his grandmother tenderly. ((I’ve been away from home too long, Grandma.)) He could feel her weeping into his shoulder slightly, her legs shaking in her attempt to stand up and withhold her emotions. “Guys, this is my grandmother, Nebula.” They all said their greetings. ((I’ve brought company.))         ((Darn right, you have,)) she said, smiling at the presence of the newcomers. ((This nose is still sharp as a knife.)) They shivered in unison, getting the preposterous idea that she could see them despite her affliction. She walked over to Vinyl and physically examined her face. ((Hmm… pretty. A little rough around the edges, but quite a cute one. Definitely somepony to keep at your side.)) Midnight translated her words for Vinyl, but omitted that “rough around the edges” bit. With a grin, the alabaster pony nervously scratched the back of her head as Nebula moved onto Frédéric. ((Hmm. Ooh, handsome. Very handsome. This jawline is quite a sight to see—or not.)) She said jokingly. ((Loyal, talented... I think you picked a good friend, Midnight, my child.)) The grandson translated, leaving Frédéric blushing mildly in his seat. “What’s with the blushing? You’re not crushing on my grandmother, are you?” said Midnight childishly, nudging his elbow into the pianist’s side. “Shut it, you!” Frédéric barked. Meanwhile, Nebula moved onto Octavia. The mare backed away from her initially, given her previous… “discomfort” with Sarosians. Nebula sensed this, and could only smile. ((Calm yourself, child. I won’t hurt you.)) After being relayed her words, Octavia relaxed and allowed Nebula to examine her. ((Ah… a beauty. I think she can be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but… I know she’s a real sweetheart.)) Octavia blushed after hearing the altered translation. “Tashakor… eh, khanum,” Octavia said. Nebula raised a brow. ((And she’s clever!)) Octavia blushed ever harder. ((Let’s hope those are all true, Nebula,)) said a new voice entirely. The speaker was a stallion at a staggering six feet, eight inches. Dressed in a white button-up shirt with rolled-up sleeves and dark slacks with suspenders. He had Midnight’s green eyes and horn. His white hair was cut short and slicked back, with but a few bang hairs jutting out, his full beard properly combed. His stomach was a little on the large side, but his arms were rippling with muscles, almost as thick as tree trunks; no doubt due to the several years of working on and repairing automobiles of all brands, models, and years.         ((Dad… I’m home,)) said Midnight, almost anxiously. The father figure looked up at his son, and a smile peeked out from his beard. Midnight got up and went to him, soon to be grabbed in a mighty bear hug. ((You’re crushing me!!)) he squeaked.         The dad laughed heartily. It sounded much like how a grizzly would laugh as it trapped its prey. He let go of his son and put his hands on his shoulders. Midnight was only half a foot shorter. ((I’ve missed you, m’boy,)) he said. He looked to his friends, then he noticed Octavia and Vinyl. ((So, which one’s your wife?)) he asked teasingly.         Midnight’s cheeks seared slightly. ‘Me? One of them? Married? It’s weird, but it’s not like I haven’t thought about it every now and again… although, those thoughts usually involve one of them nowadays.’ ((N-Neither, Baba. They’re friends I brought home with me.))         ((Ah, but you like one of them, don’t you?)) He continued. Midnight’s face grew ever more hot.         ((Comet! Don’t yank his chain on the first day he comes back!)) warned Galaxy, bringing the last of the food to the plastic.         ((Well… yes,)) he sighed, defeated by his dad browbeating him. “Guys, this is my dad, Comet Ash.”         The large stallion grasped Frédéric’s hand and shook it. “It is… big pleasure to meet you,” Comet said in broken Equuish. Frédéric’s hand was released from the vice grip, the owner massaging it and ensuring not a precious finger was damaged.         “Same to you,” Frédéric said with both feeble smile and eye contact. Comet merely did a little bow to Octavia and Vinyl. “Thank you for coming to our house. Is very good thing that Midnight… eh, have friends like you three.” “Oh, we’re just happy we could be his friends,” Vinyl said calmly. “So what do you do, Mr. Ash?” “Oh. I am car repairpony. I fix all cars of all kinds,” the father replied. “Please. Call me Comet, like everypony else.” “Sounds like fun, eh?” “Sometimes. Is hard work, but is fun every… eh… now and again.” Comet turned to his son and inquired, ((So, how has working with the Princesses been?)) ((Rough,)) Midnight answered. All of the family members were gathering around the plastic. He motioned to his companions to do so as well. ((Traveling, having to cram the language in the last few days, taking notes — it’s no walk in the park, I’ll say.)) ((It does sound like a lot. But you’re a smart stallion,)) justified Comet, patting his son on the back. ((You could practically think circles around all of us when you were out of high school.)) Midnight smiled, as he used his magic to undo the lids of each pot and pan on the plastic. The aroma of the food bulldozed their senses. He began filling up a plate and a bowl for each individual, passing them out. There were plenty of dishes to accommodate both the carnivorous and the herbivorous. ((I’m glad that you have that kind of confidence in me, Baba. Especially since we had a bit of fallout when I left…)) Comet looked at his child, and let out a sigh seasoned with reminiscent woe. ((It’s water under the bridge. Both of us were just… itching to get into fights, I suppose.)) ((Both? What happened at work?)) ((Just… idiots at work! They either can’t properly organize each part correctly, or they try and steal from the store.)) “Is your dad alright?” asked Octavia, tone tinged with concern as she took a seat on Midnight’s right. “He’s just peeved because there are a bunch of assholes–” “Midnight!” reprimanded Galaxy, who motioned subtly to the children listening. “Mama, they don’t understand Equuish. They’ll be fine.” Midnight returned to answering the question: “Just a bumbling band of idiots at my dad’s autoparts store. They either screw up something in storage, or they steal money out the register.” “Huh…” hummed Octavia. “Sounds like a hassle.” “It is hassle… er, what was your name?” Comet asked. “Octavia. This is Frédéric–” She happily pointed to the pianist from Midnight’s other side. “–and this is Vinyl.” The mare in question next to her waved. Comet hummed. “Okay… it is hassle, Octavia. I pray to Luna for… er, competent workers. Instead, I get idiots. I should pray for idiots, and see where that goes.” The guests giggled slightly. “I think I’m starting to like your dad.” Octavia said. “He’s a pretty cool guy. Granted, he scared the shit out of me and my sisters as a kid,” responded Midnight. “Ohh, it was awful,” Night Glider commented. “Some ponies would be afraid of monsters in the closet, or the Boogeycolt under their beds. We’d be absolutely terrified of the very thought of our dad waiting in the living room when we miss curfew, or didn’t listen to our mother.” Laughs from the visitors. Comet cracked another smile. “So… how did you meet my son?” “Me and Freddy over here met Midnight through Octavia,” Vinyl said. She shot Octavia a look that basically said, “Please don’t screw this up, or we’ll be praying to Luna for our lives.” The charcoal-hued mare cleared her throat. “I met Midnight in Canterlot. One day, it was rainy. I was leaving the supermarket and had forgotten my umbrella, so I was in a rut. He bumped into me as I was going home with some groceries. He was nice enough to offer to clean up my groceries and give me some protection to the rain, at least until we reached my house.” She felt something tug at her heart. It was screaming at her to stop, but she knew she ought to proceed. ’Is this how it feels to confess? It’s feels like there’s some sort of… barricade. It’s almost a little scary to try and vault.’ She sighed, relieving any pressure, and continued on. “I… I wasn’t nice to him. I said awful things to him. Things that would make ponies hate me. Or themselves. Or do worse. But not Midnight. Even though he hated my attitude and how I behaved towards him, he put up with it. He still stood by my side.” Octavia sighed again. “I don’t deserve somepony like him. But he’s still here with me.” She smiled warmly at Midnight. “And for that, I’m grateful.” The stallion, face searing, smiled back, heart fluttering like a congregation of monarchs. Comet nodded, processing the information in his head. “You are honest. Is virtue I like best in anypony. We have saying here… sponge to wipe away past, rose to sweeten present, kiss to greet future. This is sponge, you admitting truth and being kind to Midnight. I am happy you and him met.” “Tashakor,” she said. Comet snorted in laughter; he thought the two of them really were destined to meet. “That’s sweet of you, Midnight!” Star Hopper interjected. He looked up. “No, no… I was just being a helping hand. I mean, I bumped into her and spilled her groceries. I wouldn’t hear the end of it from anypony here if I had just left her there.” “But still, it’s definitely gentlecolt-y! You must really care for her, huh?” He paused in his eating. He felt his heart tug at him this time. “Yeah… I guess I do.” “Aww… so, you asked her out yet?” Midnight’s spoon fell into his lentil soup, loosened from his grip. The sudden question was definitely inappropriate. He was not only reminded of the deal he had with Scorch Shot, but he was highly mortified that Star Hopper had sprung that kind of inquiry on him. But he wasn’t alone. Vinyl grinned nervously, then looked away, almost disappointed and ashamed. Midnight then fired a look at Star that said, “You backstabbing little—” “What?” Octavia said, the question leaving her in an awkward state of mind. “Why, that’s silly. Midnight and I are friends. We don’t see each other that way.” The Sarosian’s heart dropped like an anvil in water. He picked up his spoon and melancholically ate away at his soup. Friends… I should’ve seen that one coming. He felt a hand pat his shoulder. Frédéric and Midnight made eye contact. My condolences, the former said. It’s no big deal, the latter would lie, deluding himself. He felt a pit opening in him. A massive, cold, and ravenous black hole that just... ate at his insides. He felt rather upset by her words. Granted, it was a least a step up from being called her personal servant, but at least that showed some romantic promise. In her eyes, he was as sexually attractive as her brother. Or a lamp. And so, dinner proceeded in mild silence, broken only by the sound of clinking cutlery upon china dishes, and meager conversations. ~ After all of dinner was cleaned up and the leftovers were put away, all of the children went to their rooms, four or three to a room. Night Glider and Star Hopper had entered their bedroom, symbolized with a moon with wings and three spinning stars on the door: their respective Cutie Marks.         Octavia and Vinyl shared the room with the twins, while Midnight and Frédéric slept in the former’s room. The unicorn offered the Earth Pony his mattress, while he got a futon from his closet and slept on the floor. The walls of Midnight’s room were plastered with posters. Some dealing with literature and science, some depicting Neighpanese cartoons and video games. The shelves on the walls were lined with all sorts of books and magazines. “Mama still kept everything after I left,” he chuckled as they slipped into their pajamas.         “Hey, Midnight… you asleep yet?” Frédéric whispered in the dark, looking up at the ceiling. “I wish,” the other mumbled.         “Listen… I hope you don’t take Octavia seriously when she said that. If it has any affect on your behaviour around her, she’ll really begin to think you like her, you know.” Silence. A Long. Grueling. Uncomfortable silence. Until Midnight finally mustered the bravery to say, “Why didn’t you ask her?” Frédéric sat up in the bed. “I beg your pardon?” “On the train. Back. Out when I was smoking and you told me and Vinyl to leave. Why didn’t you confess that you were in love with her?” “...” Frédéric looked down at the earth, stumbling to find the right words to say. “I’m a stallion of my word. I said I would confide in her that our friendship was unbeknownst to her.” “But you could have told her.” Midnight felt his tone grow spiteful. What in Tartarus is wrong with me? He loathed feeling like this. To be buried in hatred. “Faust knows she’s head over heels for you. She’d have said ‘yes’ in a heartbeat.” “That wouldn’t be fair to you,” retorted the pianist. “I know we both love her, but for me to just gut you like a fish by asking for her to court me behind your back is by no means alright.” He paused, and sighed. “We’re friends, Midnight. I promise you that.” The Sarosian chuckled a little. “Bronies before hoenies, eh?” he murmured. Frédéric blinked a few times, and chuckled at it. “Oh, yes. Bronies before hoenies, indeed. Think of this as that saying your dad said. A sponge to wipe away the past.” With that, Midnight felt the weight of his poisonous anger evaporate. But simultaneously, he felt guilt and disappointment still niggling at his mind. It made his occipital and frontal lobes ache. ‘I highly doubt any sponges can wipe that moment away.’ “I suppose,” he hummed, hunkering down beneath his blanket. “Thanks, Fred. G’night….” “Good night, Midnight.” ~End of Chapter XV~