//------------------------------// // The Passion of a Lover // Story: The Magic Constellation // by Snowybee //------------------------------// Almost like the sunset pouring from the window before, Sunshine’s mane disappears below the covers. “Wait, wait, Moonlight!” She squeals from under the thick quilt. “You’re supposed to kiss me on the forehead!” Moonlight rolls her eyes. “I already, like, tucked you in. Self esteem is shot, for your information.” The rebellious mare kicks her hind legs under the covers. “C’mon, sis! It’s been three years, so you totally owe me one!” she reasons with her most petulant tone. “No.” Concealed, though, is her flipping stomach. Worry, nerves. She turns tail and steps out of the guest room in short order. “Can you read me a poem, then?” The door stalls in her magic. With hesitation, Moonlight heel-turns back. Sunshine peeks over the blankets with her shiny doe eyes. Like she just breached a great fortress, Sunshine lowers her cover further to taunt the sentries protecting what lay within, taunt with that playful little smile. “That’s right,” she pressed. “Not only do I remember ‘Kebab Catch-up’ time, but also ‘Moony Swoony’ time.” The shadowy mare’s cheeks flush, contrasting from her pale face even in the darkness of the room. “Why do you remember that moronic name? I need a shower now.” “It was, like, your idea, Moony.” “Silence.” “Only kisses can silence me, evil sorceress! You’ll never win!” The sacred temples demand a sacrifice of firm massaging. Still, she can’t help but loosen up at the fit of giggling. “Poem it is. If I must pick my poison, it’ll be one I’m experienced with.” At her implications, Sunshine squishes her own cheeks in horror. “M-Moonlight! Are you saying you never kissed a mare before? Oh wait! I think—” “Silence.” The demure unicorn coughs into her hoof. “I meant experience in being a foalsitter, you toad. I pray to Luna that you weren’t serious about the hoofie pajamas.” A cryptic raspberry blows her way in response, prompting yet another massage to the temple. “Very well. I shall go retrieve my writings.” “Stop right there!” Sunshine cries before Moonlight can even lift a hoof.. “That’s not how we did Moony Swoony time!” Ears twitch. The corner of her mouth tenses into a crocodile smirk. “I will. Retrieve. My poems.” “But why? That’s not how it works.” “I can, like, guarantee the quality of the poetry if it’s planned in advance.” “Oh my gosh, Moony. You’ve been slacking, haven’t you.” She tsk’d out loud. “I thought you said you wanted to, like, ad lib things better?” Moonlights looks away. “It’s not like I’d do it for anyone else but you.” The strange sensation of hearing another pony’s breath in her home gives her knees reason to tremble. The sunny mare sighs lightly. “And it’s not like I loved Moony Swoony time just for the poems.” A baton waves off all the sounds in the room to a rest. A griffon holds the sound hostage, pinched in his talons. He dangles it over the audience. They find themselves choking on their own suspense, their anticipation. She speaks. The first few steps from the nest She shed a silent tear Not at the time did she see How hard those first steps would be. On her own, she reaches She tries and tries And pulls her weight up the hill But in the end, her heart won’t sit still. The fire burns under the bed The only push out of sheets everyday And, in the bathroom, she spies A mirror that’s a stone faced lie. Dozens of stones pit the fire Placed with all her might on a cold day The strain, the fatigue frost up her legs For warmth from her burden, she begs. Be it dream, be it delusion She sees the sunrise through the cloud cover And in that moment, she can rejoice Tasting the drop of sunshine from that voice. The mornings come easier, all of a sudden The torture of rising hardly sticks in her mind In fact, her steps bounce to dizzying heights Hoping to touch the sky and never come back. But then she'll be gone again. And… At the corner of the bed, Moonlight face presses into the firm bone of the mattress. She lays sprawled, clinging to the bed for dear life. “A-and,” she rasps, “and then you'll be…” That gentle, pink hoof rests upon her own. Sunshine chokes back tiny sobs. “Are you really so… s-so miserable here, Moonlight?” she whispers. “Why would you leave me for this?” Her eyes screw shut. The moonlight pours between the blinds now. Her stained tears glisten. The words buzz in her head. So desperately does she want to vomit it all up, but she won't. She can't. A good wipe of the eyes, and she stands up. In the dark, her chilling yellow eyes offer no reflection. No life. Only the ashen streaks across her cheeks mar her mask. “Goodnight.” She storms away. The door shuts upon command. The stairs prove meager in delaying her retreat, taking two steps at a time. At the top, she breaks into a near gallop. The door to her room doesn't open. The mare stops in front of it as her eyes focus in. Her lip trembles. Moonlight collapses against it. The passion of a lover Is a blind desire A selfish game Destined to fall A game of take and take An addiction to emotions To use and leave behind To break and see what happens The sun tempts her But the moon can't take Not from a mare who has nothing Only to fail in giving The moon is unworthy And the longer the charade lasts The less worthy she is This disgusting coward. The moon is unworthy And the longer the charade lasts The less worthy she is… Her lips silently move. When the sun breaks over the horizon, she slips into slumber. Phantom hooffalls echo in her mind just as it takes her. *** Ceramics clatter. Distant. A new, alien sound that got her restless, just like all the others. Her ears perk up. Voices. She wills a hoofmirror from her saucy dresser, then shuts it as softly as possible. With it she takes stock. Face is clear. Eyeshadow missing in action. Mane askew. That damnable pink creature must have cleaned it all off. Her plain, pale, asymmetrical, puffy eyelids lay bare. And she saw it. Those bloodshot eyes look entirely repulsive without the touch of color accenting them. Like a mare who wept ugly tears on the floor all night. No! She shakes her head. Why should she care if Sunshine saw her like this? She was family No reason existed for her to want to put-on as if she were a horny, insecure teenager. Especially because she was family. As close as one could get, regardless. Sisters before and after the court. The mare quickly discards the mirror and creeps from the bed. In her own home no less, she settles down on the floor presses her ear to the door. Silverware clashes. The shuffling furniture echos like war machines. “And thanks so, so much for the tea! I really, really appreciate it!” said a familiar voice. Sunshine giggles. Not a real giggle, Moonlight felt. “No problemo, chica. It’s Moony’s anyways, so I knew it’d be a hit.” “I’m stoke stoked about that nickname, for really real. Why, why didn’t I think of it?” Curse that cretin. “Hee hee, just don’t wear it out. Moony hates being cutesy around, well, everyone. Like, even me. It’s cray cray.” The other guest grunts, as if hefting a large object. “This mail won’t go go and deliver itself. I’m sure a fellow mailmare mare knows the burden we bear.” An awkward pause, punctuated by a gasp for breath. “Celestia, this tea is goody good. Tell Moony to get, well, well!” She still had that job? “Will do, mon amie. Hee hee, I’m so totally digging Moony’s dictionary collection.” In Sunshine’s preferred fashion, the goodbye bounced three or four more times before they shut the front door. She enjoys her mailmare, Runaround, in short bursts. Only now does she realize that it's not limited to direct conversations. Moonlight picks herself off of the floor before her meddling sister can appear, them tissues rushes to her bathroom. Given it was her last day off the week, she could get by with merely her makeup, and— Sunshine. The mare looked over her sorry appearance. Normally she would hole up for the day, alone. However, her sister’s present. But isn't the point to not care? The dark mare snorted. She takes the brush in her aura. If her mane could, it would begin trembling with fear. The brush swings. A mad butcher going for the joints. The instrument of carnage thwacks the countertop. Hairs splatter everywhere. She digs it in and twists, over and over. All the while, her poor scalp begs for mercy. At last, the slurry of a corpse is beheld in the mirror. A mix of a beehive and good, old fashioned bedhead. Complete with her hard knock night face, she could repulse any mare. Easily. Courage fills her. With purpose, she saunters out of her room, down the stairs, then immediately retreats back up them when Sunshine voices something. At the head of the stairs, Moonlight finds a crossroads. Face Sunshine and be embarrassed, or go back to bed and have no Sunshine. Both have merits. Both accomplish important things… The mare leans her back against the wall. “Why is this my life,” she groans. Pop! Her nose scrunches. “Good morning!” cries a trespasser, right into her ear. A good tumble down the stairs only enhances her ragged look. Fortunately, her sister catches her before the halfway point. Sunshine rears back as if pulling on a rope in her gritted teeth. Sure enough, her lanky sibling harmlessly lifts off the steps, still in pretzel form, then sails on back up to the top. Moonlight keeps her eyes screwed shut. Her legs remain firmly curled, given her previous experience with the stairs. With a grunt born of strain, Sunshine deposits her sister at her hooves. Moonlight’s eyes flutter open, then she looks to her savior. Her cheeks burn like never before. “I can explain.” *** A cloud of steam billows from behind her as she reenters civilization a proper mare. A pink, cushy towel rests over her neck to tame the drippy mane clinging to her face and neck. From her bed, Sunshine peers over an unraveled newspaper. “Now do you feel better, silly filly?” she says while her brow is arched. “Like, seriously. What got into you earlier?” “Are you reading the comics again?” “Don’t change the subject on me, sis!” Moonlight huffs. “I had serious bed head, that’s all.” “Uh huh.” She folds up the paper with little consideration and sets it on the nightstand. “I’m totally gonna believe that ‘Moonlight’ Raven herself, like, didn’t have a nervous breakdown with that mane.” “Like, thanks for believing in me. I’d totally be emotionally crippled because of something that stupid. You know me so well.” Sunshine sputters, face turning red. “Look, you, I didn’t mean it like that. If you’re all offended because of a little ribbing, then it’s you who has the problem!” The shadowy mare clenches her jaw. “I saw a split end last night, for your information. I was so devastated that I had to hide in my room like a little bitch.” “Don’t joke like that!” Moonlight’s ears pin back. The sickly sweet pleasure in her chest fades at Sunshine’s twisted expression. “Don’t you dare say that, Moonlight,” she growls out. “No one talks about my Moonlight like that, do you understand? It only, I dunno, hurts ten times worse when Moonlight says it herself. It’s not okay.” “You're not my foalsitter, Sunshine. Stop acting like it. We're past that age,” she replies. Dismisses. Her bright sister hops to her hooves and stares down at Moonlight. Sunshine proves larger in every sense, yet Moonlight returns her stare. “Ever since you took me in, and ever since those bullies made you cry, I knew what I was supposed to do. I gotta have your back, Moonlight. Like, it's a no-brainer. You're the most kind and selfless pony I've ever met, and anything that tries to keep you down from being who you are… I take it personally.” She shakes her head. “And when you get like this, I feel helpless. I don't know why you've been so distant, so scared of being around me. Last night... it…” She looks away. Moonlight remembers to breathe. The sullen angel before her paws the carpet, deep in thought. Moonlight steadies her stomach. “I'm not good enough, Sunny.” Her sister lifts her head, wide-eyed. “I'm too selfish to be good enough. You may think otherwise, which only means I've done a good job hiding it. I was sick of home, Sunny. I love our family — you — but I wanted to get away. That's why I took the job here. Heh.” She brushes her wet mane over her eye, hoping it provides an effective shield. “I feel like trash just thinking about it. You know, I wanted to get away from you. It always took all my energy to keep up with you, but really, it had nothing to do with you. I realized it when we, um, made love that last night we were together.” “Moony. I-I don't—” “I had to leave to save face. I didn't want to, and I still don't. I got comfortable though. Found my own pace. That made it easier to pretend all these years.” She swallows a monolith. “I feel like I-I need to ask you for another chance, Sunshine. I'm not sure if we can be lovers, not entirely. But I need to find something, a clue.” For her part, Sunshine manages to clap her hanging jaw shut. Her cheeks take a light tint. “Yeah, totally. Yeah! I'd love to try again, but…” “But?” Her stomach twists. “But why the labels? We're already sisters. Nothing’s gonna, like, change if you open up. You don’t gotta act all different if we, you know...” The mare covers her mouth behind her foreleg, lest her veneer of control crumbles away entirely. “It's not a label. It's a decision.” Moonlight floats over a comb to salvage her mane, busying herself with the motions for focus. “Just hug me already. Words aren’t going to get us anywhere.” Sunshine smiles. She ducks her head a little and approaches with a glint in her eye. A tad confused, Moonlight cocks her head. A misstep! Sunshine cocks her head the other way and dives in. Their lips meet. The brush clatters to the floor. *** Soft moonlight pours upon the brush. A shadowy mare leans down, as if to pick it up. She doesn’t. Little snores puncture the serenity of the room, yet only add to the comfort welling in it. The rocky night from before slowly fades to memory. On the nightstand, a broken alarm clock reads twelve forty-five. Moonlight tosses her frizzy, neglected mane back over her shoulder. Her lips move, silent. A dangerous path unrolls before me Lined with love and care to make a home The longer one treads, they will come to see At the end, they will wind up alone.