Pool
by palaikai
Following story references some events from this prompt, though it's not required reading.
Salt Block Saloon was one of those places that you went to after you'd been thrown out of or barred from everywhere else in town; it was dank, it was dingy, and the drinks were better for burning a hole in your stomach lining than quenching your thirst. The Wild West décor wasn't my thing either. Of course, you could be forgiven for being a mite jumpy with a blunderbuss – loaded or not – in grabbing distance of every nutcase this side of Ghastly Gorge.
The batwing doors flapped open gingerly – or at least, the person entering the bar was doing so very gingerly – and we recoiled instinctively from the shards of sunlight that probed deeply into our beloved darkness; it wasn't so much the light itself that we were reacting to, though that was certainly irritant enough to those of who were habitual creatures of the night, but the depressing revelation we were being made to face: it was early afternoon, it was a beautiful day out, and we were doing our level best to blot out that reality and replace it with a drunken haze.
A girl approached and took the empty stool next to me; she was young, fresh-faced, and my eyebrow raised in interest as my gaze swept her entire petite frame in record time. No, that sort of interest. Well, not entirely, though that mauve skirt and teal blouse accentuated a rather slim, attractive figure. I'm suddenly aware that, with my raven hair and monastral dress, I probably look like I'm on my way to the grimmest, Gothest rave ever.
She didn't look the sort to frequent this type of establishment; she sat rather formally, square-shouldered and straight-backed, and her mulberry eyes, so naturally inquisitive-looking, were studiously avoiding making contact with anyone or anything. Not even the barkeep attempting to take her order. Can't blame her, considering the clientèle this place attracted.
“Cider, please,” she said in a cultured accent that sounded familiar to me, but one that I hadn't had the pleasure of hearing in a long time. My drink-fuelled mind tried to join the dots, but … well, it was exactly like trying to join the dots after you'd spent most of the day pouring colourless, volatile liquids into your body in an attempt to blot out every mistake you'd made.
“I'll get that,” I said to the barkeep, throwing a couple of gold coins onto the counter, while flashing the girl an insouciant grin who merely frowned at me in response. “You're not from around here, are you, new girl?” What can I say? Even when you're half-sozzled, some people just inspire you to bring your A-Game.
“No,” she replied, taking a small sip of her cider and, I guessed from the upward quirk of her lips and slight incline of her head, finding it acceptable. This far from Apple Country, no one orders cider; I'm surprised they even have it in stock here, and to be honest, I find it surprising anyone wants to order it. Horrible, gloopy, sugary stuff. Give me a sharp, charcoal-filtered creamy vodka any day of the week.
Most days of the week.
Okay, every day of the week. Give me a break. I'm bored and lonely.
“So.” That's as far as I get before my brain decides to go AWOL, possibly in the direction of the clacking balls of the pool table behind us; I never have a problem starting a conversation normally, but this girl with indigo hair, streaked through with pink and purple, is making it difficult for me to find the words. Is it the fact that she looks so innocent, but is trying not to show it? Like a young girl forced into the role of a woman? I wonder if she's even old enough to be in here. It's not the kind of place that pays much heed to crazy notions like age-appropriateness, nor have I ever heard of anyone being asked for identification in all the long years I've been coming here.
How many years is it now? Feels like a frickin' thousand of them at this stage. Exile's no fun, let me tell you.
I bring out the big guns. “My name's Nightmare Moon. What's yours?”
“Twilight Sparkle,” she said. She hesitates for a moment before extending a lean, purple hand in my direction. “Nice to meet you, Miss Moon.”
I stifle a slobbering, drunken laugh while taking her hand in my own. “Miss Moon is my mother. Most people 'round these parts call me Moony. They find Nightmare Moon to be a bit of a mouthful, especially after a few mouthfuls, if you know what I mean?”
“I can imagine,” Twilight Sparkle said, quickly taking in the diverse array of patrons drowning their sorrows at the bar, the ghost of a smile flashing across her delicate, youthful face. “Nice to meet you … Moony.”
“What brings you out this way? All the way from … Canterlot?”
“Work.” She takes a sip of her drink.
I'm starting to think that this girl isn't in the mood to be hit on by some random, older stranger in a bar. But then, why would she be in here in the first place? No one loves cider that much. “Work, huh? What do you do for a living?”
Her upper lip twitches slightly and her shoulders sag ever so slightly.
“Forget I asked,” I said, deciding to cut my losses. She isn't that cute, anyway, though I'm a trifle irked at the money I've just wasted.
“I'm here to see you,” said Twilight Sparkle, running a hand through her hair and turning her head in my direction for perhaps the first time in the conversation. “I'm filling in for Luna at Canterlot High School while she's on sabbatical, and Celestia thought it might be time for you to return in order to ease some of the burden we're under.”
“What happened to Luna?” I asked, my face contorting into a frown. I'd barely thought about my two sisters since they'd kicked me out of CHS when they'd finally got sick of my loutish behaviour. I'd been scraping a living as a part-time tutor out here in the boondocks, not expecting to ever hear from them again. And now, Celestia herself had sent this perky young thing to rescue me? I was almost flattered. Did she think I would be enticed more by the offer coming from Twilight Sparkle in person rather than a simple 'phone call? Oh, sweet Celestia, you know me too well.
“She, uh.” It was clear that Twilight Sparkle was fishing around for her best diplomatic tone. “The stress has been getting to her a lot lately, and she had a bit of a nervous breakdown after, um, an incident involving an exchange student. She's out of the hospital, though, and recovering well at home, but it'll still be months before she can be declared fit enough to return to work.”
“Huh.” I wasn't sure what I was feeling. It was no secret that I'd always been jealous of my more popular sisters, and truth be told I'd thought plenty of times how wonderful it would be if they were out of the way and I could run the school the way I wanted to. Now that something was up with Luna, I was possibly feeling a little bit … sad? Guilty? Like I was somehow responsible, stupid as that idea was? That, if I'd been there sharing the hardship, my dear little sister wouldn't have cracked?
“Are you all right?”
It surprised me how warm and wet her eyes had become at that moment. Twilight Sparkle wasn't just being polite, she actually did care about people, even complete strangers. I felt a knot blossom in my stomach, my body's way of letting me know when I'd been a jerk; my clumsy pick-up attempts just felt crass in the face of all this now, and as surely as I know anything I knew that the girl was way out of my league.
Still.
If I accepted my sweet sister's offer, I'd be working alongside Miss Sparkle every day and I'd get the chance to lower her to my level. “I'm fine,” I finally said, slamming my glass down on the moist bar top. “So. When do we leave?”
“Are you sure you don't want to take a couple of days to think about it? I mean, it's probably a lot to take in,” said Twilight Sparkle.
My eyes quickly roved over Twilight Sparkle's lithe form once more. “Oh, I've definitely made up my mind.”