"Eee...?" Kyllgorr pronounced the vowel on the paper insecurely.
"That's 'i'! Like I see you or my eye burns," Seamless Stitch raised her voice. "This is the fifth time now!"
"Well, excuse me!" Kyllgorr mocked, "It's not my perfect language, where every vowel and consonant looks and sounds different, because that would be too easy! No, let's make minuscule differences in a curving alphabet; where an 'i' sounds like 'eye' in one word then in the next goes fucking bipolar and sounds and looks like an 'e'!" He slammed his fist on the table, spilling ink everywhere.
Seamless Stitch grabbed his face between her fore hooves. She bored her hatred into his eyes. They scowled at each other. Minutes passed and their eyes were still locked in an unblinking battle. Kyllgorr blew into Seamless Stitch's amethyst eyes, forcing her to blink.
"Ha!" he thrust his fists into the air victoriously.
"You... you..!" frustration bubbled in the little red unicorn's face, "Big illiterate meanie!"
Kyllgorr guffawed falling out of his chair, rolling on the floor laughing, "'Illiterate meanie'!"
"Hmph!" she snorted in annoyance.
One Day Earlier
The giant roared, breaking through the solid bulloak door. Seamless Stitch screamed in horror in the corner of the office room. The ice cold granite bit into her burning, red fur, her heart pounding against her chest. She used her pink magic to fling chairs and a desk at the monster to no avail.
He grabbed the trembling horse by her horn, sneering. The pony flailed her limbs wildly. He picked the small horse by her barrel. Her amethyst eyes were as wide as plates. His expression softened slightly.
"You are lucky I need you alive," he tucked her under his arm and walked back to the King's Study, as she whimpered helplessly.
He sat her forcefully down on the cold, hard ground. She curled up in a ball and cried. She observed him picking up the papers, quills, and ink they had knocked over in her mad scramble to escape. His saffron eyes peeking at her every so often. When everything was picked up, he sat down in the chair, and organized the writing area to his liking. He rested his head on the table and studied the horse in the corner.
She yelped when she felt him grab her.
"P-please don't... d-don't hurt me," she pleads, looking up at him with her ears flat.
He picked her up and placed her under his arm, feeling her quiver. After a short walk, he placed her on a kitchen table, grabbing her muzzle.
"Sit," he ordered.
She obediently sat on her haunches.
"Don't. Move," he warned.
She quickly nodded her head.
He moved over to the sink. He found an ewer and two mugs in the third cabinet he searched. He pumped the handle in the sink filling the containers with water. He set the mugs in front of her.
"Drink," he stated as he drank from the silver ewer.
Seamless Stitch realized how dehydrated she was when she gulped down the first mug. By the time she drank the second mug, she felt revitalized.
"Thank you," she said gratefully, smiling weakly at the giant.
He sat on the bench with a sigh. He stared into her eyes, "I didn't mean to kill them. I... was scared."
She saw the truth in his wavering eyes.
"A long time ago, I was locked up in a dark, terrible place tortured at every waking moment," He paused to take another sip from the ewer, "I killed for vengeance, I killed out of hate, but most of all, I killed for survival. Before I knew it, I had developed an insatiable blood lust; one that even rivaled Grey. Once I kill something I lose control," he confessed.
The unicorn nodded her head.
"You don't even care, do you?" he scoffed turning away from her. He sensed her hoof on his hand.
"Even though what you did is inexcusable, I can understand why you did it, and if you truly do feel sorry for your actions, you can do something about it," she stated, rubbing his hand.
"I will!" he blurted out then cleared his throat, "I will live out the rest of my days trying to atone for what I have done if I have to."
"I know there is good in you," she stated, "I mean, you could have hurt me but so far you haven't."
He just stared at her.
A moment of silence fell over them.
"So... did you make those clothes yourself?" she inquired, trying to make conversation.
"Yes. Although truthfully, knitting is more my schtick than sewing," he confided with a quick blush.
"I am a tailor in a small city called Fillydelphia. My parents are tailors, too. That's why they named me Seamless Stitch. Luckily, I got my cutie mark in fashion," she shared.
"I am Kyllgorr," he grinned. "What's a 'cutie mark'?"
She pointed to her flank, "This picture. Mine is a needle with thread, a thimble, and scissors; but, every cutie mark is unique. Although, family members and ponies with similar special skills tend to have cutie marks that resemble each other. Ponies don't get their cutie marks until about ten years of age," she explained, "But you don't need to call me Seamless Stitch, everyone calls me Amy."
"Because of your eyes?"
"Precisely," she smiled, "So, what's your story about knitting?"
"Ah, well. . ." he rubbed the back of his neck, "I'll tell you if you can make me better clothes, deal?" he avoided the question.
"Deal," she agreed, curious about his unlikely hobby.
Spending a few hours searching and scavenging for materials, she made Kyllgorr simple pants and a t-shirt. He suggested skinning and tanning Griffon hides for boots and thicker clothes but she could not, in good conscience, allow him to do that. She informed him that hides are a big faux pas in their society. He countered saying that his feet need protection from the elements, which made sense, considering how fleshy his feet appeared. She simply told him to do what he wants.
"I didn't know my parents," Kyllgorr began his story, as he sat in the study with Seamless Stitch laying on the table listening attentively, "a kind farmer found me near a river with a wolf pup. He brought us back to his wife, who more than happily accepted me as a gift from the gods. They kept the pup, too, deciding he would become a great protector.
"When I was eleven, the old man died of heart failure. I had always helped out around the farm, but now, I had more responsibilities. The old woman spun wool for extra money. And occasionally knitted for people, but she always knitted my clothes. I was fascinated how her knotted, fragile fingers could create such beautiful clothes. So I asked her to teach me and she did.
"One terrible winter, she had knitted a beautiful red scarf for me and Wolf. The red wool cost ten times that of our wool, but it was a gift for our twentieth birthday. I had come down with a debilitating flu the next day. Our firewood ran out, so she went out in a blizzard to get some more from behind the house. " Tears welled up in his eyes as he tried to fight from crying, "I found her frozen body the next morning, laying beside that old man's gave." His lip trembled, "It was just her time to go." He choked back his tears. Her heard Amy sniffling on the table.
"That's so sad!" she sobbed.
"They had a good life and raised me well," Two tears traced down his cheeks. "Anyways, every year, I knit me and Wolf a red scarf in her honor their honor."
She placed a hoof on his hand smiling up at him, "That's beautiful."
"Yeah. . ." he cleared his throat, "Okay. Time to teach me your language."
"No," she sat up, turning her nose up at him.
"What do you mean?" he growled.
"You said to teach you for my freedom, but I don't want freedom." She smiled warmly at him, flashing her amethyst eyes, "I want to be your friend."
He wore a quizzical expression, "After... everything I did to the Griffons. . . to you. . . you would still want to be my friend?"
"Well, yes," she stated matter-of-factly.
"I don't know what to say," he sounded conflicted.
"Yes," she said sternly, then stuck her tongue out.
"Yes," he grinned.