Truth Needs No Colors

by Lastingimage24

13. Birds of a Feather

"One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood.

-Lucius Annaeus Seneca"

Sketch gave one final exhale as he curled himself into a ball in his bed. The door was locked and room was clean. Today wasn’t particularly long, or even that taxing, but he finally felt he’d be able to get a good night’s sleep now that he had dealt with Syntax. He wasn’t sure of ‘dealt’ was the right word, considering he, if anything, actually sped up the amount of time it would take to get the article about him and Trust in the paper, but at least he had done something instead of sit on his ass.

The great thing about insomnia is that one still feels tired after lying in bed for three days straight.

“Psst.”

The noise immediately awoke Sketch. It was all too familiar, and all too welcome. Sleep could wait.

He rose, a half smile adorning his face. “Trust?”

“Sup, sport?” she asked as she finished climbing through his window. As she got through, she sauntered towards the door and turned the deadbolt.

“Ughh, don’t call me that, my dad calls me that.” He stuck his tongue out and flopped back onto his bed. “What time is it?”

“Nine thirty,” she mentioned doing the same care-free saunter towards Sketch. “I think this is the earliest I’ve been here.”

“Maybe." It wasn't. "Are you here to stay?” he asked earnestly, a hopeful smirk shining through his boyish charm.

“Yup, just you an’ me Sketch. I got done with my little... project.” She grinned madly, her cheeks so high they covered the bottom of her eyes a little.

“Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

Sketch started to subconsciously swipe the edges of his sheets as if there were specks of dirt on it. “You keep ominously pausing every time you say project.”

Trust looked off to the side as she scratched the back of her mane. “Oh. Uhh, it’s a spooky project.”

“Yeah, okay,” he dismissively confirmed, not really believing her. It wasn’t that big a deal anyway. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Aww,” she aww’d, taking a seat next to him on the bed. “I know the past couple of days must have been hard. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”

Sketch shrugged, sending wakes of minor pain through his shoulders. “It’s okay, my parents were in and out too often, it wouldn’t have worked out.” His gaze became distant as he asked his next question. “Is it bad I wanted you here more than my parents?”

She abruptly placed both her hooves on either of his cheeks, looking directly into his eyes. “Yes,” she answered flatly, and placing her lips on his before he could react. Before Sketch could really get into it, she reared back, a positively sultry smile from her piercing his eyes. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She threw herself onto him, sending him backwards and lightly thudding his head on the frame of the bed. Sensing he was going to complain about it, she pulled him further down onto the bed proper, kissing him all the while. Seconds became minutes as she trailed down from his mouth to his neck.

His mouth free, he began to speak again. “Trust...” he breathed, unsure where his brain was going after that. “Trust, I don’t know if... this is a good idea.”

She took small breaks from his neck to put in her two bits. “I don’t think it is, Sketchy. But it fucking feels like it.”

“I think...” Sketch laughed as he trailed his own hooves down her sides, feeling every curve and every strand of fur bristle against him. “I think I fell in love with you. I can’t even remember when it happened.”

“You think so, eh?” she replied, giving a small giggle. “I know exactly when I fell in love with you, Sketchy. When you called me a bitch on the day of the party.”

Sketch went limp as he pursed his lips. Did he do that?

“When I heard that, I was like ‘this is the stallion I want to be in bed with’.” Trust could barely speak the last word as she started to break down laughing. She lost her balance and fell flat into his chest where she cried her guffaw. Her chuckles were muffled by Sketch’s fur.

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up,” he spat, rolling his eyes, but unable to hide his smile. “So you love me?”

“No duh,” she quipped as she looked up at him, biting her lip.

“Good. I-” Sketch was cut off by a noise at his window, a weird scratching thud. The same sound a dog would make wanting to go outside. “-need to hide you now!”

“Ske-MPH!” she tried to protest but Sketch was too quick with his pillow. Would somebody walk in right now, foul play would definitely be suspected. He flailed at his sheets, them only obeying with his sheer stubbornness, as they slowly wrapped themselves around Trusts body. As he assured not one bit of her muted grey-purple fur could be seen, he finally kicked himself off of the bed, unsure of his further plans. His mind was too preoccupied with questions on who would be climbing up to his window than to try and figure out a way to appear casual. As he slammed his hoof against one of his sketches on the floor, and another hoof grabbing a stray pencil, he sent a thanks to Celestia as he realized the two random objects he had grabbed actually made sense.

“Sketch!” the voice called from the window as the culprit peeked over. It took a few moments of a dead stare to match the identity of the individual with his personal memories. Haren, of all people, was hanging outside his window. “Sketch, Sketch, Sketchy! Ooooohhhh my god!” She was absolutely giddy, her already perked face lighting up at the same rate Sketch’s face grew contorted due to confusion. She scrambled through the window, clawing for every pawhold and crevice, before finally rocketing in like a bullet through sheer force of will. Sketch was prepared for many things. A griffin glomp was not one of them.

“Haren?!” was all he managed to ask in the time it took for the tackle to take place. Bones were potentially broken. He struggled as his legs were locked in this apparently eternal struggle of hug, “Haren what are you -urk!- doing here?”

“Sketch, oh brother, you would not believe what just happened!” She ohh’d as she gave him one last squeeze before dropping him like a sack of bricks.

As he collapsed onto the floor, he breathed out an airy, “what.”

“Anthem TOOOOTALLLY fucked me!”

Sketch had been trying to get up off the floor, but as that sucker punch hit his ears all air escaped his lungs through pursed lips, causing spit to fly all over the room. “PPPBTTTHHH.”

“Oh my god, you should have seen him,” Haren rolled her eyes back as she began counting off an imaginary list using her digits to signify the events, a stupid grin on her face the entire time. “I mean, he was a completely adorable bitch at first, and then he got all romantic, and he told me how nervous he was, and we got all frisky, and we just...” Haren’s breathing became steady as she closed her eyes and sighed, her tongue sticking out slightly from her beak. “We did it, Sketch. After all this time... we... just like that. He kissed me. Well, I mean, I kissed him, but he totally asked me to. It wasn’t the way I thought it’d be, but it was so much better.”

Sketch was still in shock at her bolt out of the blue appearance, but as her explanation and enthusiasm slowed, he grew more attentive to her rationale.

“And I know it had something to do with you, Sketchy,” she finally explained, her eyes becoming half mast as she dreamily gazed at him.

Sketch had regained himself enough to rise and shake his head. “No, that was all him, Haren. I just... made sure he didn’t fall.”

“Don’t be so modest, Sketch.” Haren gave a hearty chuckle, examining his room a little and picking up a stray drawing on the floor. It occurred to Sketch this was her first time in his room, which he actually thought to be a bit odd; he wouldn’t have minded her coming in here. “Four years of nothing.... You come along, and it’s not even a month before we become more intimate than I ever thought possible.”

Sketch scratched his head earnestly. He hadn’t actually done much... just talk to the both of them a few times. They had all the power.

“Sketch, I know it’s hard to believe, but you put things in a weird perspective. Maybe it’s because you’re young, or maybe it’s your weird way of looking at the world, but you make things seem so small... so... easily overcome.” Haren sauntered up to him in a way that reminded him of Trust, but... ever so slightly different. It looked drunker than Trust’s, if that made sense. Like she knew what she wanted from life, from him. “Thanks.” She put a talon on his shoulder and gave him a hard-hitting embrace.

“You’re... welcome. I think.” Haren’s hug was quick and endearingly awkward. She was not shy about showing affection, but this seemed to be a special occasion, like the kind of affection a sister would show a brother when they had felt an obligation to. This was a welcome development, considering the unwholesome admiration Sketch had been feeling about her. This was good. This is what he wanted. “You know I had a bit of a crush on you when we first met,” he blurted out, a misguided desire to clear air that wasn’t tarred. He was afraid he had said something incredibly stupid, until Haren grinned madly.

“Aww, really? That’s awesome. You know, if you had a couple more years on you, I might have taken you up on that if this whole Anthem thing crashed and burn.” The casual manner in which she discussed this was what made Haren Haren. He wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Heh, is that so? Well probably wouldn’t have happened anyway, I’m uh... predisposed.” Sketch laughed and brushed off his shoulder. Haren nodded knowingly, no doubt going for a tease.

“Bat chick?”

“Heh...” he chuckled, without really answering her. Haren perked up at his lack of an immediate defense, and smiled warmly, almost like a mother would. “She’s...”

“I know,” she confirmed, heading towards his bed. “I’m happy for you, Sketchy. Don’t fuck it up like I almost did.”

“I’ll try. You know sometimes I think that DON’T SIT ON MY BED!” Sketch immediately arose, remembering the mare was currently occupying his bed, a fact that had embarrassingly slipped his mind. It was too late, Haren was already in the air. She opened her mouth to ask why, but was interrupted by wriggling sheets.

“What the hell?” she asked genuinely, only morbid curiosity escaping her beak. Sketch thanked the stars Trust was smart enough to only expose her head from the cocoon of sheets that enveloped her. Seeing that it was a pony, Haren shot up from the bed and took a few steps back, slipping on a stray sketch on the floor. It wasn’t until a few blinks later did the realization sink in. “Oh my god... Trust?”

Sketch sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, as Trust bashfully stuck her tongue out and looked the other way. Sketch’s mind raced a mile a minute to find some way out of this, any way to steer the conversation to get Haren out of the room and for Trust to remain in cover. Haren’s thoughts must have been much more cohesive, however, as she began speaking again before anybody could dip their hoof in the conversation. “Ho-lee shit. You REALLY meant predisposed, You were predisposing right before I came in here.”

Haren’s use of a standard grammatical term as a double entendre aside, this was the perfect excuse to get Haren the HELL outta here. “Yes, yes, listen, Haren. Me and Trust were just trying to get some alone time before you interrupted. Now, I’m very happy about you and Anthem, but I’ll come see you guys when I’m not too busy.”

Unfortunately Haren was smart enough to know he wasn’t actually angry with her, and she was in too good of a mood to listen. Her grin looked as if it would split her face in half. “Shit, don’t be like that, Sketchy! How’s it going, Trust? He’s all he cracked up to be?”

“HAREN!” Sketch snapped, his ears becoming hot.

Trust, however, put up that smart-ass defense she also put up during the party. “I don’t know yet, cause you came in and started getting all hot and bothered.”

Haren whistled, her smile somehow getting wider and stretching off her face. “I barged in on your first times? That’s HILARIOUS!” Haren started to titter and hop like a filly. “I bet you guys are virgins, too!”

Sketch slammed his head into the ground as Trust sunk herself into the sheets of the bed. That was more than enough of an answer for Haren. “Eee! I knew it! That’s...”

Haren’s exuberance and energy faded as her face fell. Sketch looked up from the ground in confusion, wondering what killed her mood. She was still staring straight at trust, but her brows were furrowed. She spoke slowly. “You’re still wearing the fangs? Isn’t it a bit early for a kink?”

Sketch’s blood froze.

Trust’s smug frown turned into a horrified grimace.

Haren turned towards Sketch, her face showing a mix of concern and disappointment. Not because of a supposed kink. But because she knew he was hiding something from her. He could almost hear the gears turn in her head as his odd behaviours and actions slowly began to make sense. He didn’t know how much she thought she knew, but they were past the point of no return. Haren silently demanded a revelation.

“Sketch? What’s going on?”

Sketch swallowed with a dry throat. He felt sweat pour down his temples and behind his ears. Both girls were staring at him, expectantly. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. There was no way he could half-truth his way out of this one.

“Sketch, please. Whatever you tell me, I promise not to be angry... or however you think I’m gonna react.”

Sketch forcibly shut his eyes to get away from their gaze. His mind raced through possible excuses and scenarios, through possible actions and outcomes. But as Syntax came into his mind... he knew. She was already going to reveal them to the public... but at least Haren, one of his best friends, could find out on his terms instead of Syntax’s. Initiating damage control...

“Trust... show her.” Trust’s eyes shot open and her ears perked up. She stammered a bit, but Haren was quicker on the draw.

“Woah! Hold your horses, there, you don’t gotta be that open with me,” she joked with a nervous smile. Well, at least her sense of humor was still in tact.

“Not like that,” Sketch replied, appearing annoyed but secretly appreciative that she was so insistent at keeping the mood up. It wasn’t going to last for very long. “Trust?”

“You can’t be serious,” she whispered as if Haren would somehow magically be unable to hear her. “Are you serious?”

Sketch shrugged with feign indifference, a dry smile on his lips. “She’s gonna find out sooner or later. May as well be right now.”

Haren rubber banded her head between Sketch and Trust, no doubt unsure who she should be looking on. Trust shut her eyes and began unwrapping herself from the sheets. She had left one final layer on, and she tentatively began to lift the thin sheet off. Her wings unfurled as she did, to around twice her original width. She stuck them straight out and flapped them powerfully once, shredding any doubt Haren might have had to their genuinity.

Haren’s face slowly began to widen in shock. Sketch was convinced it would never stop.

“Oh... my... god...” Haren slowly cursed, leaving a ringing sensation in Sketch’s ears.

In the midst of the current transpirations, a small question burned through Sketch’s consciousness as Haren covered her beak with her talon, a thing he had observed her do a number of times. That question was a simple When did everything start falling apart?

“Haren...” Sketch started, but had no intention of finishing, as if her name would mend all the mistakes he made.

“It’s all real...” she softly said to herself. “I... knew you two were hiding something, but I didn’t know...”

“Well, I’m real,” Trust snapped, sounding unsure of why she was upset. She probably felt like she had to be, for some reason. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Haren looked back and forth at the unicorn and the batpony, struggling to come up with the answer. Sketch felt like he already had the answer: it was a veritable nothing.

“Sketch,” she finally said, ignoring Trust’s rhetoric. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What?” Sketch spat, taking a step back. It was his turn to be upset for no reason, but a question like that made his ears burn in ire. “What was I supposed to say?”

She laughed in airy disbelief. “Sketch, baby,” she smiled in an attempt to comfort him, but it just made him feel uneasy, just as her use of a pet name he had never heard before. “You could have told me. I... this... I can’t believe you’re dealing with this all by yourself.”

That gave Sketch pause. It wasn’t an answer he was expecting, if you could call it an answer.

Trust interrupted his thoughts with a snap of her own. “Hey, I’m standing right here! Don’t talk about me like I’m some sort of fucking disease.”

Haren turned to her from a downward angle. He couldn’t see her face, but it must have been dire from the aback reaction Trust had to it. “Easy there, Trust.” Her words stabbed through the air. “I don’t know you as well as I do Sketch, but you can bet your ass he’s risking a hell of a lot being associated with somepony like you. If Sketch trusts you, so will I, but that’s the best you’re gonna get from me right now.” Haren stomped her right paw as her posture turned to that of a feline stalking prey. “And that has nothing to do with whatever fucked up thing you’re dealing with to look the way you do. I’m talking to you the way I would any mare lying in his bed, capice?”

Trust was silent for a moment, but her eyes narrowed as she no doubt refused to be intimidated. “I know what he’s sacrificing, Haren. I didn’t want him to, but he did. It’s only fair that I give him everything that he wants in return. But I won’t take this shit from you.”

The batmare was ready to pounce, but became totally disarmed when Haren smiled through her furrowed brows. “Alright. I can respect that,” she conceded. She resumed her original posture and flicked her tail back and forth, daring Trust to make another move after her back down. Trust knew better, and looked away whilst rubbing her knee.

Sketch now had a few things to ask Trust. Namely, that she didn’t want him sacrificing himself for her, and worse still, that she felt like she somehow owed him for that. Is that what this was? This passion was just to please him? The possibility made Sketch nauseous, and he hoped he hadn’t just done something horrible.

She turned back to Sketch, making him jump out of his reverie. She licked her beak, which was an admittedly terrifying action, and frowned. “Sketch, why did you want to do this by yourself? I thought you knew us, knew me.”

“It’s not that important,” I lied, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth and tasting the bitter untruth.

“Bullshit,” she rightfully disagreed. “You’re way too good at lying, Sketch. You’re harboring what I gather to be a potentially dangerous unidentified species in your flipping bedroom. Do you realize what’d happen if ponies found out? You could be tried for like, treason or something. Failing that, you could be lynched if people were sour enough about it.” Haren scratched the back of her neck. “Now, I’m admittedly not quite sure I know how it works over here in Equestria, but I know this isn’t the kind of thing you just up and do.”

Sketch thought a small bluff might be worth the effort. “How do you know she’s an unidentified species?” After the words escaped his lips, he shuddered at the giant insult of intelligence he just gave Haren.

Without skipping a beat, Haren snorted. “Sketch, I’m not an idiot. Plus you’d be surprised at just how much I know about Equestria, I just didn’t have time to research their law and psychology.”

When did they slip into casual conversation? Sketch decided there was no real harm in continuing. “Sounds like you’re hiding stuff too.”

“You just haven’t asked the right questions,” she shot back, folding her arms. “I asked you a direct question before we slept together.”

“WHAT?!” Trust yelled, stepping up. Sketch flinched, and Haren blinked. Sketch was about to initiate damage control, but Haren was too fast yet again.

“Easy, there, bat-for-brains. We both fell asleep on the same piece of furniture, nothing more. You don’t think Sketch would be unfaithful just like that, do you?”

Sketch glowered at Haren for throwing him under the bus, but she simply smiled sheepishly and shrugged. The bluff payed off, though, considering Trust had returned to the bed and grumbled. Sketch shook his head violently and rubbed his temples. “So you’re cool?”

“I’m cool, Sketch,” Haren assured. “You really should have told me.”

Sketch half-heartedly shrugged, unsure of why he felt the need to be dishonest with her in the first place. Of course she’d be supportive. “I know. It’s just so hard to keep track of everything, I forget who my allies are in all this. I just assume the worst.”

Haren laughed darkly, the dryness in her voice cracking under pressure. “I’m more worried if this girl is good enough for you.”

Trust growled at Haren, but strangely did nothing more. Sketch looked back at her before saying, ”I’m not sure I’m good enough for her.”

“Sketch...” Haren breathed as if it would somehow make the situation better. Anything she would have said, however, was interrupted by Trust frantically flying out of the window. Neither the griffin or the unicorn had time to react until she had completely cleared the leap. “What the-”

“Trust!” Sketch yelled after her, placing both hooves on the windowsill. Haren followed behind, placing a talon on his rump, looking over his shoulder. Sketch frantically eyed the ground and the sky, before spotting Trust flying away in the distance, towards the moon, where she disappeared into the darkness. He cursed under his breath, and he felt Haren’s talon tense. It scratched at his hide hard enough for him to wince in pain. “Haren, ow, what are-”

As he turned he saw the door had been opened. Weird, he thought he locked it? Wait, no, Trust had turned the deadbolt thinking she was locking it, but it was already locked when she did so, which meant it was unlocked this entire time. But that means that anybody could walk in?

For the first time in his train of thought, he acknowledged just who was standing in the doorway.

Dear old dad.

His face was one of shock, as if he were unsure whether or not he should walk back out. He blinked a couple of times to make sure he was seeing the right thing. For a moment, Sketch was unsure of why he was behaving so oddly, considering it seemed Trust made it out in time. So why was he so speechless.

The answer was the three hundred pound griffin with her talon currently on his ass.

The great thing about that, Sketch giggled internally, was there was no actual explanation to this current situation. The immediate conclusion that one would come to, after jumping over the hurdle of absurdity that was a pony and griffin were even having sexual relations, was null and void thanks to the fact Haren, the female, was behind and over Sketch. His dad was no doubt looking for an explanation, and kept coming up blank, creating a cycling paradox of unease.

Sketch opened his mouth after the stunning silence, but Haren, silver tongue as she was, once again beat him to the punch.

“Mr. Sketch! It’s so nice to meet you!” Haren shouted a little too loudly, dipping every syllable in artificially flavored honey. “Heard... a... LOT... about... you...” The lie was so absurd Haren had difficulty regurgitating the words.

“Sketch is my son,” his calm voice rang despite the utter confusion in his voice. “My name is Books. Law Books.” He was clearly distracting himself from the scene by devoting one hundred percent of his attention to Haren’s speaking.

“Law Books? You serious?” she incredulously asked. She coughed into her talon loudly and cleared her throat obnoxiously. The look on her face suggested she did that on purpose, and Sketch silently cursed her for that. “I mean, yes! Of course. Sorry, in my country, offspring inherit their father’s last name.”

“That sounds... confusing,” he answered honestly, his brows still furrowed from the initial shock. “Wh... why are you in my son’s room?”

Sketch could FEEL the temptation that Haren no doubt experienced in just blurting out that she was having sex with him, but she was probably too aware of the consequences to make the commitment. “We...” she started as Sketch gritted his teeth. “Were going over his art! Yes. See, we’re pretty good friends and he told me about his passion, which was all of this... art. So I wanted to see some!”

“I didn’t... see you come through the front door?”

Sketch felt it was time to back her up. “In her country, their homes are really high up, like nests. It’s a habit to fly through windows and such, and I was just telling her that it WASN’T OKAY.” Sketch growled the last part of the sentence through gritted teeth, but she simply shrugged with one talon in the air and gave an innocent smile as she stared at the ceiling.

Sketch’s dad put a hoof to his chin as his demeanor softened, him becoming quite satisfied with the explanation. He appeared as if he felt he should be angry, but couldn’t rationally think of a reason why, so he settled neutrality. “Well, alright, just... don’t do it again, and everything’s fine.”

Sketch sighed and Haren deflated as her limbs loosened up. Haren gave a sensible chuckle, and began to back up. “I guess I should be going...”

To Sketch’s horror, his father smiled and shook his head. “Nonsense. We should have a drink and talk. Sketch has, like, no friends.”

“DAD!” Sketch yelled, his cheeks burning. Haren widened her eyes in shock at the uncalled for burn at Sketch’s expense, and smiled in a weird sense of pride.

“Suuuure,” she purred, following him out the door. Sketch approached his bed and screamed into his pillow. As he pulled back, he saw blood on the white material, and reached for his mouth where a few more drops of blood fell. Trust returned to his mind, and he trudged towards the window, looking up at the night sky. They were once again interrupted by her nature. One of these days, it wasn’t going to matter. It was the least he could promise her.

---

“Sweet Night is already in bed, so she won’t be joining us tonight, unfortunately.”

Haren rose her eyebrow and remained silent, wanting Books to finish talking. “My wife,” he clarified. Haren reared her head as her body tensed up.

“W... wife. Sketch’s... mo... mom.” Haren began scratching at the armchair nervously. It was Books’ turn to arch his eyebrow.

“Yes... that is how it works.”

Sketch took a nervous sip, his eyes flicking between Haren and his dad. He was resting on the sofa along with his dad, a non alcoholic soda in his glass. Both of the adults had wine in their glasses, implications damned by the fact Haren was a griffin. Haren cleared her throat and shifted in her seat, covering her beak with her talon. “Sorry, yeah of course. I’m just a little... nevermind.” She cleared her throat again, louder this time. “So hey, why don’t you guys inherit names?”

Books blinked a few times to register the sudden subject change, and decided to adhere to his guest’s preferences. “Well, there’s no real reason for it. It’s just fun to come up a name for your kid that has a good ring to it. Why do griffins inherit names?”

Haren had regained her comfort, taking a long sip of wine, nearly downing the entire glass. She didn’t make a show of it like she usually did, which surprised Sketch. Though, if any of his friends were classy enough to show reserve, it would be Haren. Maybe Royal, but he has other problems. “Legacy purposes. Your last name is a sort of badge that you wear to identify your origin and your basic self, while your first name is to clarify yourself amongst your family. When women marry men, they also take the man’s last name and throw away their own, getting it back if they choose to divorce. A clan mentality, I suppose, though clans aren’t really a thing anymore.”

“I see.” Books nodded and took a sip of wine himself. “I’m sorry. I haven’t really thought about it before, but it’s somewhat sad that we haven’t made much of an effort in schools to learn more about your homeland considering the diversity Canterlot and the rest of equestria desires.”

“Pssh,” Haren dismissively spat. “Don’t worry about it. We should be taking notes about you guys, our social situation is pretty dire. Very selfish and short-sighted.”

“Wouldn’t know that with the way you behave,” Books complimented, which very oddly made Sketch blush. Haren nodded in approval.

“So what’s your last name then? If you don’t mind me asking.” Books rose his glass to his lips. “You have one as well, right?”

Haren bit her talon in thought. “Yeah, I do. I haven’t thought about it in a long time, I kinda just wanted nothing to do with home when I moved here. I don’t mind saying though.” She smiled. “Haren Leigh Cassidy is my full name. Don’t worry, middle names aren’t important.”

Sketch gasped, or at least he tried to, but all of the soda in his mouth entered his lungs as he did so. He dropped the glass on floor, sending a chip of the glass under the sofa and soda all over the tile. He doubled over, coughing and sputtering for air. His dad put a gentle hoof on his back, ready to act if this wasn’t a simple case of liquid going down the wrong pipe. It took him a while to recover, but he glared at Haren as he stammered. “HAREN CASSIDY?!”

“Yes?” Haren confirmed, looking around her to see if he was speaking to someone else.

“H. Cassidy?!” he shouted, causing Haren’s blood to run cold. “H. Cassidy, author of Wandering, Not Lost?! That was you?!”

Haren’s talon met her forehead. “Oh lord...” She attempted to hide herself in embarrassment. “I can’t believe you know about that.

“You wrote a book?” Books asked, his eyebrows raising.

“Fucking news to me!” Sketch shouted throwing his hooves out. Books thwacked him upside the head and warned him to watch his language. Sketch straightened himself out and rustled his mane. “I read that book so many times when I was little.”

“When you were little?” Books asked. He turned and looked towards Haren. “How old are you?”

Haren ignored Sketch’s father and scratched her beak bashfully. “That’s so embarrassing. I wrote that thing in high school about my first visit to Equestria. It was a school trip in the fifth grade to learn about Equestrian society, at least, that’s what they told us. I’m sure it was more political than that, a sort of good faith gesture.”

Sketch’s dad hit one hoof with the other. “I remember that. It was in the papers for weeks, you guys were pretty much celebrites since the negotiations with Eagleland had just finished. That was right here in Canterlot, wasn’t it?”

“Yup, the Summer Sun fair.” Haren fought back her flush face by concentrating on her drink. “I wrote that book when I was getting fed up with our government. I was the happiest I’d ever been right here in Canterlot. I got back as soon as I could afford it. Book sales helped.”

“I don’t believe it.” Sketch flumped back into his seat, staring at the ceiling. “In a way, then... we’ve been friends for a hell of a long time through that book.”

Haren threw a raspberry and stuck her tongue out. “Hey hey hey, that book is awful. So artsy and shit when it didn’t need to be, with super obvious symbolism thrown everywhere like a poet threw up after eating alphabet soup. It’s still one of my greatest shames.”

Sketch’s face fell and he started to play with hooves. “Well, I liked it.”

Haren lit up for a moment and gave Sketch a warm smile. She looked the other way and chuckled. “Yeah? I’m glad someone got something out of it.”

With all of this new information, Sketch’s head began to swim with remaining questions. “So when did you meet Anthem?”

Haren laughed, heartily this time. “That was when I moved here. Well... not exactly moved, per se... more like ran away here.” She grumbled in embarrassment but kept her smile on. “I foolishly thought coming back to Canterlot would somehow bring all that joy I felt the first time back. But life had other ideas. It’s always money, you know? But luckily, I was at this club drinking the last of my bits away when Anthem came up to talk to me. I was pretty shy back then, but I was the first griffin he saw in person and he wouldn’t shut up and stop asking me questions. He somehow got me to say I didn’t really have a place to stay and he just...”

There was a measurable pause in the room, one that Sketch’s father could never understand, but Sketch knew all too well. Haren almost choked, but fought through it. “He just said... ‘Stay with me! I’ve got space, it’s no biggie, you can stay as long as you want!’. To a complete stranger.” Haren made a show of exhaling, rubbing her eyes as they became misty. “I could never be able to repay that kindness... but the least I can do support him as much as I can as his friend.”

Sketch eyed his father, who had been watching intently with his usual steel straight face. He hadn’t even been drinking his wine, just blinking every minute or so. When Haren finished her story, he set his glass down and closed his eyes. He sighed unexpectedly, and cleared his throat. “Miss Cassidy-”

“Haren,” she corrected. This actually made Sketch’s dad crack a smile, if only for a moment.

“Haren. I’ll be honest with you.” Books straightened a tie that wasn’t there. “I am not my wife. When Sketch told me he was friends with a griffin, I was hesitant.”

Sketch gaped at that, but Haren respectfully nodded, her smile gone.

“But... I am glad to see that once again, prejudice has no place in our society. I’m sorry that I ever thought about your people in such a way. You may be rough around the edges, but in a way so is my son, and you’re a thoughtful po-... person where it matters.”

“Yeesh, it sounds like you’re giving me your blessing to marry him,” she joked suddenly, nearly sending Sketch out of the window in astonishment.

Books’ eyes widened, but a spark ignited in his face. “Well, I don’t know about that. I want grandfoals, y’know?”

“Okay, stop,” Sketch pleaded, but Haren was too enthralled by this conversation.

“We could adopt-”

“HAREN!” Sketch shouted, for the second time that night. Or was it the third?

She chuckled sensibly and rolled her eyes back. “Come on, Sketch. You’re way too old for me.”

“That’s what makes it creepy!”

“Not to mention you’re a griffin.”

Haren and Sketch froze, eyes trailing back to Books as he sat there like he just said water is wet. Haren conspicuously coughed into her talon and Sketch simply hung his head with his ears plastered to the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah,” Haren dismissively coughed, rubbing the back of her neck.

Despite all of the obvious signs he had just said something highly offensive, Books simply sat there and took another sip of his wine. And here Sketch thought society was progressing. Haren rose and stretched, her acting slowly improving. “I guess I should get going. Anthem’s going to wake up soon, and he can not cook for the life of him.”

Books rose his brows, placing his empty glass on the table. “He’s getting up in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah! We haven’t been getting much sleep recently on account of all the...” Haren began sleazily bragging, but stopped once she saw Sketch slowly shake his head with a frown on his face. Her face fell along with his, and she nodded slowly. “Anyways, I need to go.”

“Nice meeting you, Haren.”

Haren sadly walked out, not turning around as she responded. “Ditto.”

As she left, Sketch stared at his father, unable to believe the things he had just done. After a while, he shifted uncomfortably. “What is it, Art? Something in my teeth?”

Sketch shook his head and stomped upstairs, leaving his father slightly offended and alone. Today was going so well in the beginning. But this just reinforced Sketch’s fears from the very beginning. Haren had been understanding, and he knew Anthem probably would be too, by proxy. But his parents? His teachers? Everyone else? What would they do if they knew about Trust?

He could only hope his gambit with Syntax would pay off, and she’d have a change of heart. But that was unlikely. Now, there was only the countdown to apocalypse.

The day she arrived was the day he died. And now he was simply waiting for the chance to pick up the pieces.

Author's Note:

I finally got a Haren and Trust chapter in, YESSSSSSS. These two have like, zero chemistry, it's great fun to write for. Also I had no idea how much fun writing Sketch’s dad would be when he's in the same room with Haren, those two actually did have a weird amount of chemistry, though it was more with her mature side. All in all, this is my favorite slice of life chapter so far.

Comments

[jxj]

Pretty good chapter. Haren and Sketch's dad do work well together, it'll be interesting if they have more interaction.

[Wind of the Skies]

happy to be a reader of your story as always