//------------------------------// // Chapter 05: Dreams and Memory // Story: Three Stones Lake // by Renaissance Muffins //------------------------------// “Good afternoon, Deckle. I hope you slept well.” Kyanite said as Deckle groaned himself awake. Yawning and scratching his head, he glanced around, then locked his eyes to Kyanite. “You slept in. A fair amount too, I might add.” She joshed. He looked at the clock and shrugged, then down at the book he'd fallen asleep on. He sighed, creasing his brows together, “I just bought this book.” The damp pages drank his drool like a hippo at a river. “Nothing a little care and rebinding won't fix...” In the midst of his late night reading, he'd fallen asleep at his work desk that sat in the bay window. “You know how to do that?” “Learned it before there were plants that could pump them out en masse. At the time, it was requirement too.” “Where'd you go?” “Baltimare...” Deckle sniffed at the air. “I hope you're not burning what ever you're cooking.” Kyanite hurried back to the fireplace and checked on her apple pie. “It's fine!” she called out. Deckle rose from his chair, collecting the dampened book and bringing to the mantle “That's one of the most prestigious colleges in Equestria, how did you wind up there?” “Full ride scholarship. Creative writing.” He yawned again. “No work today?” “Nope.” She pulled the pie out from the flames and set it on mantle, by the book. “Did you graduate?” “Yea, didn't walk though. Big crowds and a lot of noise are bothersome for me.” She giggled heartedly, “I understand that. How was it there.” “Pretty good. Met a lot of artists and history nuts, though. Never quite stayed in contact. I blame my being an unsocial fellow.” “Unsocial? You're not unsociable at all!” She boasted. Deckle's thin lips cracked a dim smile. “Maybe.” Kyanite shoved him over as he took the lid off the pie, just to take a peek. “Don't give me that!” Bewildered, Deckle found his hooves and stood up again, ready to shove her back, when a knock came to the door. “Who could that be?” “There was someone who wanted to talk to you yesterday, but you weren't at the shop, so I kind of...” “...Gave them my address.” Deckle picked up. “Put on the glamor and make sure the sparks don't catch the book.” She nodded and fetched the pendent from her room. Deckle approached the front door with a mind of extreme caution. Not often he answers a door, especially his own. He peered through the peephole and saw a figure of rather royal colors. “The hay?” Before he could reach the handle, a whir of magic cranked open the locks and the door eased open. “Ma'am, you're a long way from home. What brings you this far out?” “Business.” She answered. “You're still using that old code, huh?” “Old habits. Come on in, Berberis just finished cooking some pie. Pipin' hot, though.” He closed the door after looking for her assistant. “No assistant?” The mare gave him a short but very informative stare. “Oh, right.” “Berberis?” She said, taking a seat on the couch. “An orphan, or runaway, came to my door about a week ago. Lot like you, actually.” He grinned. Almost as if the younger mare was his own child. “Is that so? Anyways, I've come to ask you for a favor.” The grin vanished and his face was now a plate of intrigued. “Will you write Cadance's biography?” Deckle grabbed the book, now dry, and set it on the coffee table. “That's a hefty question, Ma'am. Specially for someone of your status.” He pondered, eyes shifting from one corner to the other. “Can't say right now. We'd have to schedule meetings and the like here- unless you've a preference.” “I do. Nowhere public, I assure you. If you're quite ready, I'll gladly give time as I always have.” The old mare casually spoke, no hint of anger or impatience. “The usual spot?” She answered with a nod. “Same days?” Another nod. “Don't get out of your usual, huh?” “It's been pretty concrete ever since Cadance stepped down.” She shrugged. “Shame about her illness. She's got an aching feeling in her mind. Strange dreams, too. She hasn't told anyone what they were. We've grown worried and I came here to request of you to write about those.” “I thought you wanted a biography?” Deckle recalled. “Under the guise of a biography. She may have quite a few already, but those haven't covered her later years or her personal life. Majority of them are her accomplishments.” Deckle softly threw his back to the chair and mused a thought, staring at the ceiling. “I suppose you're right. I'll write you when I'm ready to start. Meeting place, then to Cadance, right?” A final nod affirmed the plan. “Very well. Just have a schedule set. I'll inform my guest and let them know.” Deckle paused, “What purpose will this be for, may I ask?” “Luna has failed in her attempts to know the cause. The dreams scramble to force her out, effecting her sanity and worrying Celestia as result. Cadence has trouble describing them clearly and I sought you for help. The few scribes we have fail to keep up out of mere frustration. They also have other, more important matters to attend to. Her memories of the nightmares both speed and impede her speech. Sometimes they've blurred together, becoming indiscernible from one another.” “I've no idea how to interpret dreams. I hope you have someone in mind who can help.” “Aside from Luna, we do. I think you may already know her. She wants to keep it a surprise, however.” Deckle rolled his eyes, already making a good assumption as to whom. “Very well. I'll not pester.” “Good. I greatly dislike it when you do.” She jeered. “With that out of the way, I came here to ask another favor.” Deckle's ears and eyes perked, questioning her motive. “Would you happen to have any black currant? I've been craving some lately.” Deckle pondered a bit, “Maybe.” Pushing himself off the couch, he made his way to the kitchen cabinet. He had one specifically for odd sweets. Chocolate bars with black currant were once his favorite. Now the taste has dulled but the glowing mare's tongue seemed insatiable for the same. Luckily, he still had an entire bar left. “My last one, Sprig.”, he muttered. Closing the cabinet door, he turned and saw that Kyanite had finally came back from down from her room, the pendant tied to a clip in her hair. The two of them making eye contact and the warm glow of the fire reminded him of a distant memory. When his mother and sister sat together with their own cups of hot chocolate. A dim smile crept across his face as their ghostly images had taken hold of their presence. Shaking his head and holding back his aching thought, he sighed and moved forward. He gave the bar to the mare and sat back down. The two of them exchanged greetings and conversed a moment in quiet. “Deckle... is something wrong?” Sprig asked, unraveling the wrapping from the bar. “Just some old memories, is all.” Kyanite spoke up, “So... can I come with you to the castle, Deckle?” “Make sure it's okay with with Panna.” He answered, Kyanite nodded. They talked away for a while discussing small stories of mischief and nonsense until the evening. Sprig went on her way, leaving two pieces of the bar for the two of them. Deckle took one and Kyanite ate the other right away and went to study some of his old books. Deckle re-wrapped his square of the chocolate and put it back in the cabinet, tucked away behind some other oddly assorted sweets. Then he glanced over to the pie, took a slice and nibbled away as he checked the ink of the now dried book. All was good and as he closed the book, he remembered his family again. Wandering to the mantle, he grabbed a simple-framed photograph of his family. His mother, kind and caring who was stern in her teaching. A father distant and quiet but ready always had a fighters heart that was vastly wise. His brother, a wanderer boastful about his luck that has gotten him into trouble a number of times. Lastly, his sister, a healing type who filled entire rooms with an unmatched purity and presence. And here in the cold north, a hundred lands away holed up in a rotting cottage, sat Deckle all alone. Homesickness was a nagging feeling once and now it gnawed again for another countless measure. It will take time to tear the feeling away again. “Deckle... are you okay?” He yielded no response. “Deckle?” Kyanite called out again. His head lurched out of thought. “Sorry, dear, I'm fine.” Deckle demeanor changed drastically from the light-hearted and happy fellow to a sluggish, unsure, and perhaps, lost individual in a city street. “What's the matter?” “Did you have any books on local myths here?” “Yea.” he said, setting the framed photograph back in it's place. “there's about four or five books, left of the history section. I think the one you'll want to look at first is Myth and Legend: Crystal Empire. Should give you short specifics. The other books have more detail on them.” “Got it.” She went back down the stairs, looking forward to her new topic. Deckle looked forward to meeting the former queen and her husband once again.