//------------------------------// // Peace // Story: The Unicorn and the Stranger // by PhycoKrusk //------------------------------// On the morning of the final day, Rarity awoke and felt a deep sense of peace. With her late night swim unrestrained by modesty, she learned that Driftwood was an accomplished swimmer while she was not, although he admitted to being something of an aberration in that regard. They laughed and played in the gentle surf until well after midnight before they returned to the bungalow. They bathed and scrubbed the salt from each others’ bodies, tiny hooks underneath Driftwood’s tarsi sifting through Rarity’s fur like the teeth of a fine comb. They made love and fell asleep curled against one another, each breathing soft lullabies. And here they were, still curled against one another while the ocean waves gently rolled in the distance, the glimmers of ideas and designs drifting into the unicorn’s mind like motes of dust suspended in a sunbeam. There would be time for that later. She’d found her inspiration, yes, but perhaps against even greater odds, she had found her prince, even if he wasn’t quite what she’d always envisioned. There would be time for that later as well. Rarity shifted against the changeling pressed into her back, saying, “Driftwood?” Driftwood shifted against her in response, and then opened his mouth in a wide yawn and seemed to settle back to sleep. “Mmhm?” he asked, even if it was more of a noise than an actual question. “It’s morning,” Rarity replied. “And while I can’t speak for you, I believe it’s almost time for breakfast. “Mm,” Driftwood said, even though it was just a a noise and not an actual word. “And what better breakfast than a beautiful mare?” Without warning, he leaned his head up and nipped rapidly at Rarity’s neck, sending her into a fit of ticklish giggles. “Num num num num num!” “Oh, you wicked brute!” Rarity managed to say in between giggling and attempting to squirm away. It was fortunately an attempt of short-lived necessity, as Driftwood stopped only a moment later and laid his head on her shoulder with a sigh of contentment. Breakfast, Rarity decided, could also wait just a bit longer. “You’re right, though, I think.” Driftwood slid just a fraction of an inch away from Rarity, tossed the sheet off himself and then rolled onto his stomach, turning his head back towards her just as she turned hers to him. “It is about breakfast time.” “Oh, wonderful!” Rarity replied happily. “You’ve taken such wonderful care of me these past few days, I’m rather eager to finally return the favor.” As she started to get up from bed, Driftwood placed a tarsus on her shoulder. “Rarity, your sentiment is appreciated, but this is my house, and I will not be a poor host, especially not to you, no matter what,” the changeling said affirmatively. He rose from the bed and, stepping onto the floor, stretched his body as a cat might. “But I like to think I know you pretty well by now, so if you feel you must do something, why not go to the trees out back and pick some oranges? We’ll have fresh juice with breakfast.” “Oh, fresh orange juice does sound lovely,” Rarity replied, rising from the tangle of sheets herself. Without even thinking, her horn flared to life and the shimmer of magic surrounded the bedsheets, and in seconds, it was made. “No pulpy vegetable juice today, then?” “I was thinking something a bit richer for today. Something to celebrate,” Driftwood said as he moved towards his kitchen. Rarity followed after him a moment later. “I’m certain it will be wonderful,” she said. Next to the backdoor was a small wicker basket that hopped into the air almost happily when her magic touched it. She paused at the door momentarily, realizing she was about to step outside with no makeup on and with no styling to her mane, but easily dismissed the thought; she was only going out to the garden, and the bungalow was so far from town she was only running the risk of Driftwood seeing her. Besides having seen her without makeup already, he’d been with her far more intimately than a conversation, so what did it matter? “Back in just a moment, darling,” opening the door and stepping out to the garden. The moment she stepped outside, it seemed apparent to Rarity that the small grove of orange trees behind the bungalow was not any kind of garden at all. The trees were arranged irregularly — hardly seeming arranged at all — and scattered around somewhat sparsely were wildflowers and even a few small bushes covered in tiny, bright red berries, and for a few moments, she thought everything to be wild. Then, she noticed several somewhat organized plants bearing summer squashes with shoots of green beans growing around them. There were large boxes of soil raised off the ground that held leafy greens, likely the lettuce, spinach and mustard she had been eating with Driftwood, as well as onions and several other vegetables she could not immediately identify. The ground had been picked free of weeds and fallen fruit, and on a second glance, the trees had been pruned, if only just enough. Bees flittered here and there among the flowers, and placed in several location about the area were large but very shallow troughs, some of which held water. Sea water, she realized, that had been left to evaporate, humidifying the air and giving Driftwood a relatively steady supply of salt to harvest and perhaps to sell. For a changeling, he really did make a fine earth pony. Breathing the fragrant air deeply, Rarity stepped into the grove proper — mindful not to disturb the bees or any of the other plants — and inspected the trees, finding several ripe oranges in short order and adding them to her basket before taking a few moments more to admire the landscape around her. It was not until her eyes caught movement and the sunlight glinting off golden metal that she realized she was not alone.