15. Until The Nightmare Begins
There was ringing; a slight buzz in the air, as the moon reflected off of the still water. A thick fog had made it difficult to breath, and as Sketch looked down at his hooves, he saw that he had no reflection in the water. He paid no mind to the fact he could suddenly walk on water without prior knowledge, and he walked towards the moon. The air was cold and wet, somehow more than the water at his hooves. The moon looked... bigger? It occurred to him that he never really paid the size of it any real mind, but it was impossible not to notice now. In fact, now, it looked larger than the sun. Much larger.
He must have walked for hours, because the moon got lower as he went, but it felt like minutes to him. And now, it felt as if he could touch it if he reached out far enough. He was stopped after a time by a figure in front of the moon. Or was it on the moon? At a point, he lost the ability to tell. The figure grew larger as it grew closer. As the shape made itself clear - a very large mare - he realized that it was almost as if it was walking down stairs.
When the mare became close enough to see her features, it seemed that she spotted Sketch as well, with her eyes widening and her slitted pupils visibly focusing on the stallion. Terrifyingly, her sclera was a harrowing teal color, surrounding itself around midnight blue irises and the blackest feline pupils Sketch had ever seen. She was black as the night around her, and instead of a mane, an ethereal flow of stars surrounded a powerful and regal body. Sharp fangs steadied themselves on either corner of her powerful muzzle, and they almost seemed to increase in size as her grin showed itself. Wings furled out spectacularly, appearing as silhouettes against the starry night sky. The fact that she had both wings and a horn should have been shocking, but Sketch found it impossible to feel anything other than a soft, fuzzy burn in his stomach. She spoke suddenly, and her voice was intoxicating with how smooth and sweet it was.
“My, my. I never thought a pony would seek me out again.”
Sketch nearly fell to the floor to beg her to keep speaking, but he felt nearly unable to move. “Seek?”
“What about the night fascinates you, child? What about the darkness do you hope to obtain?”
“Darkness?” His vocabulary had been reduced to one word questions. She frowned at this, and blinked to make sure what she was looking at was real.
“You called me, did you not? What unholy desires do you want fulfilled?” And now she sounded just as confused as Sketch.
“Unholy desires? Is...” Sketch looked behind himself and duly noted the lake behind him was gone and now pitch blackness took its place. “Is this like a sex thing?”
The alicorn’s eyes widened at first, but then her cheeks puffed out as she struggled to contain her mirth. She lost control, and bellowed a deep incredulous laugh. “If that is what you truly wanted, child, sure. But alas, you’re much too young for me. Perhaps I could spawn a dark seducer to satiate you request.” She cleared her throat, getting the last of her chuckles out. “Though I must say, you are of a much sounder mind than most of my worshippers. Definitely, none of them would have suggested something like that.”
Sketch felt blood rush to his face as he started review what they had just said. He blinked a few times and looked at his hooves in shame. “Wait, wait, sorry that’s not what I meant by... I mean... What... what is this about?”
The dark mare frowned again, and arched her brow higher than her face should’ve allowed. “What do you mean by that? Are you telling me, you didn’t use the dark ritual to summon me?”
“Dark ritual?” Sketch asked, his prior vocabulary showing its head again. Deciding it would be rude to make this a one sided conversation, he skipped the answer she was no doubt preparing. “I didn’t do anything particularly special.”
“Hmm...” She approached him, and only now was Sketch able to see just how large she was compared to him. Maybe twice as large, but something told him she was still a hair shorter than Celestia herself. “That is troubling.” She ran her hoof down Sketch’s shoulder, and it felt much colder than he was expecting. In dull surprise, she reared her head back, and a slim smile stretched across her lips. “Oh. Ohhh... that explains it.”
“Uh, what?” he asked earnestly.
She started to guffaw once again, and Sketch found himself smiling due to proxy. “Oh I see, now,” she said between breaths. “You seemed to simply find yourself in darkness, rather than trying to seek it out. Very funny.” Her smile faded, and she put a hoof to her chin. “Curious, however. You did not cower, but you embraced it.”
He started to scratch the back of his head. “Well, if you understand it, there’s no reason to fear it.”
“You’d do well to fear the dark, child.” Her smile was comforting despite her threatening warning. “You’ll live longer.”
He blinked, not even having to think about what he was going to say. “I might be afraid what’s in the dark, but not the dark itself. The dark wants what all of us want, I think.”
She appeared surprised at this, and her warm smile did not waver. “I can see why you love her, child. I guess I can let this slip.”
“Love... her?” His two word questions returned. “Love Trust?”
“Will you last for the eternal night? We shall see.” She put a firm, stern hoof under his chin, and lifted his muzzle forcefully. “You aren’t afraid?”
Sketch looked down the corner of his eye, and saw dark water begin to envelop him. Instead of cold, it actually felt warm. Like the darkness embraced him back. He looked back up at her. “No.”
“You’ll do fine,” she said, her grin widening, her sharp fangs now accompanying even sharper teeth. “Until the Nightmare begins.” The water filled his ears and eyes, seeping its way into his nostrils and somehow into his mouth even though it was closed. He had the distinct feeling he should panic, as the mares bellowing cackle echoed weakly, distorted by the water in his ears.
But he calmly took a breath.
“Mmf?” Sketch awoke with something in his mouth. He vaguely recalled the sensation of water invading his muzzle, but come to think of it, it was probably just Trust’s tongue dancing in it. Yes, now he remembered. Trust had spent the night with him. He found it pretty difficult to think anything pass that.
So, he decided to recall the events of the night before. Trust had rather rudely climbed into his bed, and they made out for like, twenty minutes. She had started to get antsy and told him to hurry up. He wasn’t sure exactly how to proceed, so they ended up just talking for the better part of an hour. Trust started to get... angry? Thinking back on it, it was probably just frustration, because she started saying something about how it wasn’t fair she didn’t know what to do. ‘Let’s go slow,’ he had said, and just told her to lay back. He didn’t tell her he didn’t exactly know what he was doing either, but they were both on edge at that point, there was no reason to make it worse. Everything sorta calmed down after that, after Sketch actually started to... try. And it got kind of hazy afterwards. He struggled not to break the kiss by smiling to hard, once he remembered Trust’s reaction to seeing... certain things. And also the fact he had to keep shushing her at certain times when she was being too... vocal.
He opened his eyes once he was done reminiscing, and eyed Trust’s face up and down. Her eyes were closed as she focused on his tongue, and she had dark rings below her eyes. She looked... tired?
Sketch knew he wasn’t that good. Shouldn’t she be rested? A little groggy, maybe? Wasn’t that how this works? He hated not knowing. “Chuthh?” He had tried to say her name, but forgot he had a mouthful of her.
Her eyes shot open at the disturbance, and she retracted, dragging her tongue along the roof of his mouth. He winced in pain as her left fang briefly caught on his tongue, drawing a predictable amount of blood. “Oh! Sketch! Sorry!”
“I’m okay,” he assured, looking at the pillow his head was laying on. There were splotches of blood everywhere in various shapes and sizes. “Not sure if my pillow is though.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have been doing that,” she chuckled, sniffing in shame.
“Have you been...” he counted the number of blood spots and did the math in his head. “Kissing me in my sleep?”
“Maybe,” she confessed, biting her lip. “Maybe you should stop being so cute.”
“I’ll try,” he joked, cracking a smile. She gave one in turn whilst sniffing again. The dark rings below her eyes beckoned his attention once again. “Are you still tired?”
“Hmm?” she asked, confused. “Oh, no, I haven’t slept.”
“You haven’t slept?” He struggled to recall the time during their adventures. The last time he nervously checked it to make sure he was ‘making good time’, it was 3:30 in the morning, and it was 6:00 now. “You’ve been watching me sleep for two hours?”
“Uh-huh.” she answered honestly, wondering if that was okay. “Is that weird?”
“A little,” he confessed, but smiled anyway. “But it’s okay. I’d be doing the same if I could.”
She giggled in response, biting her lip again. “I keep thinking this isn’t real,” she suddenly said, looking down at Sketch’s chest. “When I first met you, and you didn’t run and scream, I was hoping that we could be friends. When I kept coming around, and you didn’t change, I was hoping we could be more than friends. I didn’t think it’d ever happen.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“You aren’t the first pony that’s seen me. If you remember how we met, I wasn’t exactly careful about who saw me. There had been a few that... tried to befriend me. But it was always the same. They squinted every time they saw me, and flinched every time I reached for them. Eventually i stopped trying. And then you showed up.” Trust grinned. “You have horrible timing.”
“I think we all do, really.” Sketch remembered Royal, Syntax, Haren and Anthem... “A lot of our problems arise from us doing random everyday stuff when the universe doesn’t like it.”
“Well,” Trust breathed. “I’m glad you made this mistake.” She yawned and abruptly rolled over Sketch, nearly sending him along with her when she fell off the bed.
“You’re not... a... mistake,” he groaned as she fell. “If anything, I’m the mistake.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked, heading towards the window. The sunrise gave her a pleasant glowing orange hue around her.
“I don’t know...” he said, an image of a black alicorn going gracing his mind’s eye. “Something tells me I wasn’t the plan.”
“What?” Trust questioned, one hoof out the window.
“I had a dream last night,” he explained, as if that was all he needed to say for her to understand. After a few seconds of silence, he chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not a big deal.”
“Whatever, weirdo.”
School...
It was actually bearable this time. His body was under the same level of exhaustion he always felt, but this time, he didn’t feel tired. A rejuvenating energy pulsed through his body in the most pleasant of ways, keeping his chin up, and his cynicism under. Nothing could really shake him from this mood, not even the underlying drone of routine he had recognized his school for. Of course, it got even better in his Studio Art class.
He felt a certain color in his black and white sketches, exuberance of a different sort. A passion behind his pencil that he hadn’t experienced for a long time. His art wasn’t particularly any better than his usual stuff, but his heart was in it now, and he didn’t want to cast aside anything he drew onto the floor of his room. He was on his third sketch of the day, minus the doodles in his notebook, drawing a mare in front of a large moon, sanguine expression on her face. He had thought he was drawing Trust, but she didn’t have a horn, and he had to take an objective look at it before he realized. “Nightmare...” he whispered to himself. “What’s your plan?”
“Sketch, that is a very original piece.” Conté commented, suddenly appearing behind him. He was too distracted by his thoughts to be startled. “But I’ve noticed that your drawings have become very... dark, recently.” She craned her head and looked him in the eye. “I know I’m going to sound like a broken record, but are you okay?”
“Why do you care?” he asked, not intending to have made it sound so accusatory.
“I don’t really have a good reason,” she admitted, but smiled regardless. “I cannot deny that I do, though. You are probably my most... unique student, Sketch. And like all my students, I only wish the best for you. I’m not blind to changes in your behavior, Sketch.”
“I’m not transforming into a delinquent, Miss Conté. You don’t have to worry about that.” He crossed his forelegs and looked away from her gaze. She responded by switching sides and looking him in the eye once more.
“Oh I know, Sketch. I just want to make sure your happy.”
“Am I happy now?” he asked, taking an empty look at The Nightmare on his paper. “More than ever. Despite the world doing everything it can do to stop me, I’m extremely happy.”
Conté blinked a few times, and slowly smiled. “Is that right?” she asked suggestively, putting both hooves on either cheek and leaning into them. “Who’s the mare?”
Sketch coughed playfully and blew a incredulous raspberry. “Pfft, whaaaat? There’s no maaaare.” He grinned widely, obviously not legitimately trying to convince her of anything. Conté rolled her eyes with a jovial smirk.
“Sure thing, Sketch.” She left his table and looked over her shoulder. “Hope it works out for you.”
“Me too, Miss Conté.” He took one last glance at the Nightmare, finding himself unable to be afraid of her despite his entire body telling him to. Maybe he sympathized a little with her. Not her feelings of jealousy, but the way everyone thought of her. To feel like society is against you. “Me too...”
The door swung open with all the resistance it should, to a room that wasn’t as empty as it should be. Sketch dropped his bag as he saw his mother at his bed. She was facing away from the door, and when she heard Sketch enter, she craned her head to look at him. A look of... concern? She struggled to find the words, as Sketch struggled to think. His blood ran cold as the potential scenarios played in his head. Did she see Trust in his bed? Did she find some evidence of a mare spending the night? He was super careful about the... mess, but maybe he slipped at some point. His paranoia was answered when she began to speak.
“Sketch, are you okay? There’s blood all over your bed.” She lifted his pillow and showed him the small splotches from when Trust kissed him. Needless to say, there were quite a few. He subconsciously rose a hoof to his cheek, remembering the annoying time spent scrubbing dried blood out of his fur. He sighed in relief, glad the problem wasn’t as big as he thought.
“Yeah, I’m fine, I just uh, bit my tongue,” he offered, grinning at her. That was technically true, someone did bite his tongue, but... dammit, he was doing it again. Whole honesty or blatant lies, no half-truths.
“Bit your tongue, Sketch?” She asked incredulously, but her face of concern not dissipating. “Sketch, what the hell is all this?” She pulled the sheet off of his bed and motioned him over. Confused, he walked up to her, and winced when he saw the source of her worry. A big dull red stain found itself firmly in the center of his bed. He had forgotten about treating Trust’s injuries the night of the incident. It wasn’t his blood. “Sketch, you didn’t have any big injuries on you...” she said, as if she had to convince herself. “Did you? How is there this much blood?”
“I...” he began, the world crawling to a halt around him. “There wasn’t...” He coughed aloud, swallowing loudly and trying to appear casual. “Sorry, you caught me off guard. It was a while ago, I cut my leg when i broke a plate that I brought into my room, and I used my sheets as a bandage. Sorry I didn’t tell you, i thought it wasn’t bad enough to make a big deal about it.”
“But you...” she trailed off, biting her lip. She obviously didn’t believe him, but she also couldn’t find any reason for why he would lie, short of him being a serial killer or something ridiculous. “Are you sure you’re okay? Wouldn’t you have needed stitches?”
“Obviously not,” he said, confidently waving his hoof around. “It wasn’t that big of a cut.”
“Well, didn’t you...” she panickedly ran her hoof over the sheets. “Didn’t you wash them at all since then?”
“Mom, come on,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re a nurse, you know that blood stains really easy.”
He picked his bag back up, a part of him believing his own lies. He took a stroll to his closet and prepared to throw the bag in. “You’re freaking out over-” He threw his bag, and it was caught by Trust. Which was weird, because that would mean she was in his closet. And that couldn’t be possible, but... no, there she was. That must mean she really was in the closet. And now she’s giving him this panicked look, the kind where one shows all of their teeth and grimaces as if they’re in pain, as she held the bag he just threw in. “...Nothing...” Sketch simply stared at the batpony in his closet, contemplating what series of events could have possibly led to this situation. His thoughts were interrupted with the tell-tale signs of his mother beginning to turn around.
He slammed the closet shut using the full force of his body, hearing a muffled grunt from the other side as he did so. The possibility of broken nose be damned, he began to chuckle nervously as he desperately tried to regain control of his heart-rate.
His mother had barely noticed his odd behavior, clearly jarred by his prior confidence. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“NEvEr BetTer!” his voice cracked. “Definitely better than hanging outside a broken sky tram by only a one leg HAHAH we almost died!” He felt his eye twitch, and he kicked himself for losing it so easily. His mind was still rational, but his body turned onto autopilot when he saw Trust.
“Uhh, alright?” she said, unable to really disagree with his assessment. “Sketch, maybe you should go to the hospital, make sure you’re fine.”
“What? PBBBFTTT,” he raspberried way too hard, his saliva ruining a few of his sketches on the floor. “I’m FINE, alright! I’m just... uhh...” He wracked his brain, desperately trying to think of a reason for her to leave. “I just think you should leave alright, I-” He grabbed a random few drawings off the ground. “I have some stuff you shouldn’t see!”
“I- what?” she stammered, her face immediately becoming flush, the implications flustering her. “Like, w... what?”
UUUGGGHHH Sketch groaned internally, wondering how much dignity he’d have left at the end of this. “Nude mares! I mean, more than usual. Super explicit stuff, like nothing is left for the imagination!”
“O-oh dear,” she stuttered, covering her mouth and the red spreading to her neck and forehead. “Why would you, uhh?”
He shut his eyes, silently wishing for the embrace of a sudden death. “Commissions! Some guys at school are willing to pay-”
“Okay, okay, forget I asked, I’m leaving!” She wiped sweat off of her forehead and began moving towards the door. Sketch sighed in relief and began sliding off of his lean on the closet door. When he didn’t stop sliding, he became concerned, but any action he could have taken was stopped short by slipping on a stray paper as he tried to steady himself. His hind leg swept directly in the path of his mother, and she was too flustered to properly dodge out of the way. She ungracefully sailed through the air and landed on her side, grunting as she hit the floor. Sketch violently slammed the back of his head and neck against the closet, the hinges creaking under the sudden impact. He slid all the way down, until he was completely face up on his back, blinking and staring at the ceiling.
“Ow,” he simply said, sighing at nothing in particular.
“Oof, are you okay?” his mother asked, rolling back onto her hooves in one smooth motion. “I can’t believe you’re still finding new ways to fall over.” She held a hoof to pick him up, but as he grabbed for it, she pulled it back. “Wait a second...” She picked up a few papers, the ones he was holding, off of the floor. Sketch tried to stop her, but he may as well have been wet noodles trying to stop a train. “This is a drawing of a carrot with a face on it!” She held up exactly what she said, a carrot with a silly face on it, smiling in nigh orgasmic glee and looking up at the out-of-frame ceiling.
“Uhh,” he uh’d, any rebuttal he could have possibly had killed by a smiling carrot.
“Unless this is some kind of weird new kink, you’re lying to me Sketchy!” She shoved the drawing into his chest, not waiting for him to grab a hold of it, letting it go and having it flutter uselessly to the ground. “Sketch, you need to-”
Her tirade was interrupted by a violent creaking emanating from the closet once again. The door slowly displaced itself until it began falling to the ground. Sketch and his mother quickly moved out of the way, remaining uninjured as it crashed to the floor. Any comments or exclamations reserved for such an event remained unspoken, as all eyes were on the batmare inside. She was still in a leaning pose where the closet door used to be, her ear perked against an absent frame. She blinked a few times, before rebooting into a neutral position, smiling anxiously with her brows furrowed, and weakly waving at her new audience.
“Mom?” Sketch asked in a calming tone, turning towards her uneasily. Jig was up. Time to own it.
“Up.” she suddenly squeaked, causing Sketch to rear his head and look upwards in confusion. He shook his head and steeled himself.
“Mom,” Sketch leveled, slowly reaching towards her but never touching her. “I can explain.”
“There’s a vampony in your closet,” she absently said, her eyes wide.
“Mom,” he said again, half a mind wondering whether or not he should claim it’s a costume. She wasn’t stupid, though, and Trust was already moving her wings all over the place in accordance to her mood.
“That’s...” She turned to him, her eyes grimly growing darker. “She’s...she’s... Sk... SKETCH!” she suddenly shouted. “THERE’S A VAMPONY IN YOUR CLOSET GET THE GARLIC!”
Trust bit both of her lips and puffed her cheeks out.
“MOM!” he yelled back, catching her in his forelegs as she tried to break for the door. “WE DON’T EVEN HAVE ANY GARLIC, YOU MADE MASHED POTATOES YESTERDAY.”
“Sketch, she’s gonna kill us,” she tried to reason. Honestly, that made Sketch laugh a little, the thought of a random vampony that was hiding in his closet being homicidal for no reason. “ We have to do something!”
“Mom,” he said one last time. “I know her. I knew she was in there.” Time for the whole truth.
“WHAT???” She screamed, looking back at Trust frantically. “But how did she-?”
“Her name is Trust.” He exhaled uncomfortably. “I’ve known her for a couple months, more or less.”
“She, you,” she stammered, breathing rapidly. “What?! Months? Who is she? What is she?”
Trust winced at that, and looked away. She laughed mirthlessly, and groaned. “Oh, I should leave. Maybe go kill somepony else.” She began making her way towards the window, but Sketch wouldn’t have it.
“Trust! Stay,” he ordered, and was pleasantly surprised when she abided. She stopped, and stood at attention. “And please, no jokes, it’s not helping.” She was obviously too uncomfortable to pout.
“Sketch, what’s going on?” His mom asked, pulling her maternal card. “Tell me. Now.”
He exhaled through gritted teeth, not really sure where to begin. He was going to tell her everything, but starting to tell her was a whole another story. He decided to do what he was wished for, just treat her like a mare that was caught in his room. The kind of problem ‘normal’ people had. “This is Trust. My... er... friend.” He coughed into his hoof, hoping he’d get the implications across. Unfortunately, his mother didn’t seem to notice it, probably preoccupied with other revelations.
“Those wings...” she whispered, in what appeared to be... a form of disgust. “Those fangs.”
“Real,” Trust snapped, crossing her legs, trying and failing to hide her displeasure. She seemed more sad than angry now. In a way, she probably desired his mom’s approval, but sadly, it probably wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
“They’re real,” Sketch reiterated more civilly. “She’s a bat... pony.”
“That’s not possible,” His mom quickly noted. “We have schooling on every single species in Equestria and the most common ones beyond, and there’s nothing about... bat ponies.” She was looking off into the air, focusing on anything other than the other ponies in the room. “We even have some stuff on dragons! Not a lot, just surface physiology, but we got our bases covered in college!”
“Mom, she’s real, This isn’t a joke.” Sketch was about to tell her about Royal, but was cut off by Trust snidely scoffing.
“Wanna touch ‘em?” Trust asked, wiggling her wings and bobbing her eyebrows up and down. Sketch facehoofed.
“Do I want to-” she started incredulously, but cut herself off as the offer sunk itself into her head. “C... can I?”
“MOM!” he shouted, red rushing to his face. Trust snickered weakly, the awful circumstances temporary alleviating itself.
“Sorry, I...” She held a hoof to her forehead, and she tried to breathe slower. “This is a lot to take in.” She pursed her lips and leaked air through them. “Okay. What was she doing in your closet first of all?”
“I was being a monster in the closet. Duh,”
Sketch ignored her and began to answer. “She was just...” he furrowed his brow as he struggled to come up with a good answer. He wasn’t trying to lie, so this should be easy, so why couldn’t he think of an answer? It occurred to him that it was because he didn’t know himself. “What were you doing in my closet?”
Her face suddenly became very red, and she kicked a drawing across the floor. “I was uhh... gonna surprise you, and I fell asleep.”
“Surprise you?” Sketch’s mom asked, facing her son. “What?”
Ohhh! Oh. “I see, yes that makes sense.” Sketch coughed into his hoof. “Makes a lot of sense,” he assured.
His mother looked at him expectedly, and Sketch scratched his head. “Look, Mom. Trust doesn’t really have anywhere to go, so she hangs out here with me.”
“What?” his mom asked again. At the end of the day, that word would be broke from overuse. “How come we never saw her?”
“Nocturnal,” Trust stated, brushing her wing. “The light hurts my eyes.”
“Oh, Celestia,” his mother blasphemed, her shoulders slumping. She didn’t have to say it, but her posture screamed, ‘she sounds super evil’. “So you’re the one that’s been keeping Sketch up all night.”
Sketch facehoofed, and Trust was visibly straining herself to not crack a joke. Even he was struggling not to say ‘in more ways than one’. “It’s not her fault, Mom. In fact, I’ve had the best sleep than I’ve had in years with her around.” He glanced over to Trust who was looking at Sketch through her hair bashfully, a warm smile on her face. His mom still didn’t get the hint, still, and continued undeterred.
“This is, you can’t...” She bit her lip, trying to think of why this was all unacceptable. “Sketchy, you should’ve told me.”
He stuck his tongue out. “Yeah, I know,” he said to a wide eyed mother. “I’ve been getting that a lot lately”
She sighed, looking back at Trust, who was clearly not enjoying the fact they were treating her like an object, like some contraband. “And what would he have said?!” she suddenly shouted, causing his mother to flinch back defensively. “Everyone treats me like a monster! This is the only way you could’ve have found out, because there was no way to just tell you that he has a friend like me without you freaking out and shoving fucking garlic in my face!”
To his shock, his mother actually took the offensive. “Excuse me? I am his mother! Of course I am going to react with hostility to a mare that I have no clue who she is, excluding the fact that you’re a-”
Sketch put a firm hoof on his mom’s shoulder. “Don’t say monster,” he ordered. Not a stern one, not a threat, but an appeal. She simply shook her head, but obeyed anyway.
“Why are you doing this, Sketch? What could she possibly...” She ran her hooves through her mane. “Look at her, Art! How could you trust that so much?”
Sketch felt fire in his nostrils as he tasted the bitter sting of anger. It’s been a long time since he had been straight up angry, much less angry at his mother, but lo and behold, he would not allow this kind of abuse towards her. “She’s not a that Mom! I know her! She’s a person... a pony just like the rest of us! Not that it would FUCKING matter!”
She poked him in the chest with the point of her hoof, scowling at him. “Watch your language! A couple of months is not enough to know somepony, Sketch! You don’t know her!”
“I love her!” he rebutted, causing his mother to take a step back and nearly trip herself. She looked to the left and right, desperately trying to find a physical exit to the argument. “I love her. She gets me out of bed in the morning. She... makes me want to try. She makes me care... she makes me care about myself. I didn’t care before, and I didn’t realize it, but I... want to go out and make a difference now. Now I have desire behind my pencil when I draw. Something to fight for. For friends and family.” He looked at his hooves, and found tears hitting the floor. “I didn’t care about myself before. I hardly cared about anyone or anything other than you and Dad. I was just going through day to day, coasting on the fleeting idea that I’m living my life just because I should, not because I can. But it’s different now.”
“Sketch...” she choked, her eyes glossy, misty. “She...” she wiped tears from her eyes. “She could just be using you.”
Sketch heard something snap.
He turned around.
And walked away.
Even when she called his name after he slammed the door behind him, he didn’t look back.
Know who your allies are a voice called in his head.
His mother not being one wasn’t something he was expecting.
He found himself walking out the front door and into a nearby alley. He was walking way too quickly for his mother to follow, not that she would’ve wanted to.
“Sketch! Sketch, woah, man!” he heard a more welcome voice say. “What was that?”
“I’m tired of this, Trust.” he spat, stomping his hooves harder than he should’ve. “I get that it wouldn’t be easy, but she just...” He kicked a nearby trash can over, and slammed his hoof into the wall. “She kept calling you a monster. ARGH!” He pressed his forehead against the brick, his horn scraping against the cement in between. “FUCKING SHIT!”
“Sketch, calm down,” Trust chastised, placing a tender hoof on his rump. “You can’t expect average ponies to accept me.”
“Why the hell not?!” he snapped, scowling at her. “It was easy for me! You were stealing my fucking food and I still gave you the benefit of the doubt. If people gave you an eighth of the chance I gave you, you could be walking on the street right now!” He collapsed into her shoulder, his face into her neck. She reared back at first, but slowly craned her neck over his and nuzzled his ear. “We could be going to the movies, and getting ice cream with two spoons, and all that dumb shit that couples do. But I have to hide you like you’re a Celestia-damned weapon of mass destruction.”
“Well, not everypony can be as cool as you Sketch,” she chuckled, playing with his mane with her hoof.
“I know,” he snorted, but exhaled humorlessly. “But at the very least, I thought my own mother would take my side.”
“She’s just worried about you dude. I worry about you too.”
“Why would you worry about me?” he asked, pulling back far enough to look into her eyes.
“I have dreams sometimes Sketch. Scary ones. Sometimes you’re in them, and they’ve been getting more frequent.” She weakly smirked, fangs bearing.
“What kind of dreams?” he asked.
“Well, I mean they’re usually really pleasant.” She blushed a little. “I mean, like a lot of the time, especially recently, it'd usually start with you being all sexy and crap and things would... escalate.”
For the first time in a while, he gave a healthy, unironic short laugh. “Yeah, okay?”
“I mean not all the time! Sometimes we’d just be hanging out.” She had her nose pointed skyward and her eyes were closed. She opened one slightly and let the light wash out the dark. “And then we’d have sex.”
“Haha, and how long have you been having these dreams?” he asked, raising his brows up.
“Like a couple weeks ago, after the party, LISTEN it’s not important,” she rolled her eyes and continued. “Point is, I keep seeing certain things in my dreams. Some things are consistent between them. And it always makes me uncomfortable.”
“Like what?”
“The moon,” she said flatly. “The moon is always there, even when it wouldn’t make sense. And black still water. It never... has waves, even idle ones, and it sorta just looks solid. Just solid black. And the weirdest thing is like this... starry mist, that surrounds everything sometimes, especially you. I can’t explain it, but...” She rocked her head back and forth. “I don’t know. I just don’t like the way it makes me feel.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes me feel good.” she said earnestly. “Like it shouldn’t, but it does.”
“Spooky,” he announced in deadpan, causing Trust to lightly punch him in the shoulder.
“Please take stuff like that seriously,” she scolded, but smiling nonetheless.
“I am, I am,” he assured, sighing. “Sorry, just... got a lot on my mind. We’ll cross the scary bridge dream when we get there.”
“Yeah, yeah I know. So what’s the plan. Live off the land until your mother is forced to accept me in her family?”
He laughed once again, wiping the corner of his mouth with his hoof. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “No, I’ve got a plan. We can hide out at Haren’s.”
Trust winced and stuck her tongue out as if she just tasted something foul. “Haren’s? Whyyyyy? What makes you think she’ll be okay with that?”
He smiled. “I had a talk with them. My parents were bound to find out, so I asked if they could lend us a room if things went south.” He put a hoof to his chin. “I didn’t think it’d happen this quickly, to be honest.”
“What about her boytoy?” she shot back.
“He knows about you too.”
“Really?” she asked rhetorically. “That does it. I’m the worst kept secret in Equestria.”
“And the most beautiful!” he sang, craning his head until it was almost upside down.
“Weak,” she criticized. “But nice try.”
“Hey Anthem...”
Anthem blinked in the door frame, slowly showing more and more joy as the seconds passed. “Sketchy!” He punched Sketch in the shoulder, causing the boy to recoil and rub the afflicted area. “How’s it going dude?”
“Is it a good time?” he asked, not really intending to leave if the answer wasn’t yes.
“Always a good time for you, boo,” he joked, leaning on the frame. “What’s up? Things go to shit already?” As if on cue, a purple blur raced past him, almost knocking him off balance, and sending him into a panicking stupor as he struggled figure out what it was.
“Ugh, I hate going around so early in the afternoon. I’m gonna be seen.” Trust steadied herself in the center of the living room, stretching her wings and rubbing her shoulders. Haren was seated on the couch, and pointed at the batpony with her thumb while arching an eyebrow at Sketch.
“Things went to shit already,” Sketch deadpanned
“Well you got good timing.” Haren quipped from the back. “I don’t think it's been an entire day since you asked if you could crash here.”
“What happened?” Anthem asked, slowly walking up to Trust who was nervously playing with her wing.
“Mom found her in my room.”
“Ooh la la!” Haren laughed, covering her beak with her talon. “Congratulations, Sketch, you’re a teenage boy. How does it feel?”
“A little slimy, I’ll be honest,” he shot back, grinning in spite of himself.
“Well, I can say that he feels great,” Trust snickered, face red. Haren whooped while Sketch rolled his eyes in embarrassment, and Anthem punched him in the shoulder again, giggling quietly.
“Alright, alright, this is serious.” Sketch chuckled involuntarily a few more times, nervously rubbing his hooves together. “Anyways, she freaked out and I kinda blew up at her and now we’re here.”
Haren scratched her head. “Wait, Sketch, aren’t you a minor? Can’t they call the police or whatever?”
He sighed and groaned. “Yeah, if I’m not back by tonight I can be declared legally missing. I don’t think they’d do that, but I don’t want to get you guys in trouble.”
Anthem frowned like a little school boy. “Aww, I was hoping we could all hang out like it was some kind of shitty college dorm.”
“That’s ridiculous, you’ve never been to college,” Trust joked, causing Haren to snicker. Anthem cleared his throat and wiped his mouth.
“Actually I have.”
Sketch blinked a few times, and looked towards Haren for confirmation. She nodded with a neutral smile on her face. “Long story,” Anthem said, waving it off. “It’s alright man, she can stay here as long as she wants.”
“That’s not necessary,” Trust said, but Anthem cut her off with a hoof.
“Nonsense! Mi casa es your house.” Anthem chuckled, and hiccuped when his eyes ran over her again. “Ah yeah... shit. So those wings are real, huh?”
“Mhmmn.” She nodded distantly, not really paying attention.
“That’s so sick!” he giddily squeaked, prancing towards her a little too excitedly. “Holy crap, where do I get some?” He rather abruptly began prodding and squeezing the leathery wings, with Trust shifting uncomfortably. Strangely, or perhaps not, Trust allowed it, and even pulling her wing out to allow a closer look. Sketch stammered, but Haren was quicker to the draw as she always was.
“Don’t be rude, honey.” Haren sighed playfully. “At least ask for permission first.”
“Oop, sorry,” he detached instantly and held his hooves up bashfully. Trust choked on some laughter and hid her face with her hair.
“It’s okay,” she excused. “I’m tired of ponies being scared and awkward around me. This is a good change of pace.”
Haren immediately got up from her seat upon hearing this. “Well shit, when you put it like that.” She zipped up to Trust’s other side and gently groped her other wing. Trust grunted slightly, but appeared anxiously pleased from the attention. “Oh weird. It’s a completely different material from our other wings. I thought it just might look different because a genetic abnormality, but no... she’s actually a whole other species.”
As Sketch watched over his two friends poking and grabbing at his girlfriend, he wondered if he should be as okay as he was with this. “Alright... now that we’re all friendly-”
“OOH, OH, LET’S WATCH A MOVIE!” Anthem practically screamed, with Haren digging in her ear for recovery. “Aw shit, movie night! I’ve been waiting for this moment!” He ran over to his room and shut the door, leaving his friends in silent confusion.
“O...kay?” Trust asked, looking around to see if this was normal behavior. When she panned over Sketch, he just shrugged.
“Man, I used to think that Anthem was the aloof cool guy, but he’s kind of a dork isn’t he?” Sketch looked over to Haren, who laughed and wistfully looked over to where Anthem used to be standing.
“Yeah, he is,” she said dreamily. “I’m glad he was able to find something he cares so much about, and how he isn’t ashamed of his enthusiasm.” She shook her head and flicked dirt from under her talon. “More than I had. You see Sketch, we’re all kind of dorks in a weird way, just depends on how much we’ve been discouraged by others.”
That... made sense. If people never stopped him, he’d go on and on about art. Of course, he wasn’t much about specific artists or styles, he’d just talk about the mediums he uses and the technical side of things, which most people found really boring. Like a writer gushing about how typewriters work.
“Movie night!” Anthem yelled again as he kicked his door open. Trust was the only one that was startled, flinching and arching her back like a cat.
“What’re we watching?” Haren encouraged, sitting on the lone chair in the room.
“One of my favorite movies, Treasure of the Sierra Madre! Not for the faint of heart.” His grin looked like it was about to split his face, and he pranced over to his projector.
“I’m confused,” Trust commented, scratching her head.
“It’s like a visual book,” Sketch offered, leading her to widen her eyes.
“Whhhaaatt? Why the hell did I learn to read then?!”
That absolutely slayed Haren, who doubled over laughing, nearly rolling off of the chair. “She has a point!” she gasped between giggles.
Sketch rolled his eyes yet again. “Don’t encourage her.”
“Reading’s important,” Anthem chipped in from the back. “Now everyone shut the hell up and sit down.”
Everyone obeyed, taking their seats in the available places. Sketch was about to voice his concerns on the lack of available seats for Anthem, but was shut up by him flopping onto Haren’s lap. There was no forethought to it, which led him to assume they had just been doing that for a while. Somehow they made it look comfortable. Sketch realized he was staring in time to turn away before they noticed.
He had to be honest. Seeing a Stallion practically fall into the arms of a female griffon was disturbing on an uncanny level. It was something he probably could never program out of his brain, despite the fact he may have had an attraction to Haren as well. He cursed his nature. The difference was, however, he could still accept it in spite of his preconceptual personality. Something that his mother couldn’t do. Something his father probably wouldn’t be able to.
Oh shit, he just thought about his dad. Would his mom tell him? What would she tell him? Another mess to clean up...
“Hey, kiddo,” Haren suddenly spoke, large stallion in her arms. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Pfft, no,” he said honestly. Trust creaked her mouth in a slight frown. “But this is helping.”
“MORE POPCORN.” Trust demanded, slamming her hooves into the cushions of the sofa, nearly hitting the edge of Sketch’s leg. Sketch was still recovering from his previous laughing fit, when Haren started to dub over the characters lines in the film.
“We don’t have any more popcorn, bitch!” Anthem shouted, a wide smile betraying his words. “You had two fucking bags of it!”
“It’s not enough!” she yelled, throwing a few spare kernels at Anthem, only to have them miss and hit Haren instead. At some point, Haren had slinked down under Anthem and took a seat on the floor and propping herself on the chair Anthem was sitting on. A few times, he spotted Anthem running his hooves through her soft feathers on the sides of her head, nearly making him OD on sugar sweetness.
“Hey, leave me outta this,” Haren laughed, flicking a kernel out of her feathers.
“Trust needs more food!” she yelled with a nasal flair. “If you can’t, somepony’s gonna have to start offering limbs!”
“I vote Sketch!” Anthem volunteered.
“I’m fine with that,” Sketch casually mentioned, looking at his hoof dismissively.
“What a kink,” Haren joked, covering her beak with her talon.
Trust snickered and lazily swirled her hoof in the air. “You know when I was younger I thought you absorb powers from creatures by eating them.”
“Holy shit!” Anthem exclaimed. He rose a brow and inquisitively craned his head like some sort of snake oil salesman. “Did you ever do it?”
“I ate a bird once when I was trying to learn how to fly.” She stuck her tongue out. “It was already dead and it was super gross, never did it again.”
“Oh Celestia,” Sketch blasphemed, a smirk struggling to keep itself down. “Is it wrong that I really want to laugh about it?”
“No, it’s frickin’ hilarious,” Trust said, puffing her cheeks. “It absolutely killed...” she teetered off, looking off to the side distantly. “Anyways, it was super silly,” she said with a blank smile and yearning eyes.
“You okay Bats?” Haren asked, ever the perceptive one.
“Better than I have been for a long time.”
Haren stared at her for a few seconds, closed her eyes and stood up. “I’m gonna go make some food. Trust made me hungry.”
“Make me a sandwich, lady!” Trust demanded from her seat. Haren rose her middle digit and showed it to Trust, which must have been some sort of gesture of disrespect.
“Badges? BADGES?! We don’t need no stinkin' badges!” the film bellowed, with a massive fight scene ensueing, crossbows going off and multiple characters beating the crap out of each other.
“I can see why you like this movie,” Sketch quipped, raising his brow.
“It’s like funny in a weird way,” he laughed. “Like some really awful crap is happening but it just kinda makes you laugh.”
“It’s called ‘dramatic irony’.” Sketch poked his head in a ‘the more you know’ motion. “Looks like I’m getting some good use outta that high school education, hot-diggity-damn.”
“Ah, school’s not that bad,” Anthem assured. He began rotating his forehooves around each other nervously. “I mean, I wish I knew that. I don’t know shit.”
Sketch frowned and grunted. “Trust me, Anthem, it isn’t that important. If you want to learn something, just teach yourself.”
“Woah, Sketch. Hope you’re not telling random kids on the street that.” Anthem chewed on the inside of his cheek, stewing about what to say. “Listen, Sketchy. I know school prolly ain’t for you, which is ‘ironic’ considering you are the one with the best education here, but you gotta understand that some of us didn’t have the kind of privilege that you did.”
“Really?” Sketch asked. “You’re doing a ‘check your privilege’?”
Sensing hostility, Anthem steeled himself and inhaled. “That’s not what I’m saying Sketch. I’m saying that despite it being imperfect, you have to respect that some ponies get the chance, and some ponies don’t.”
Sketch exhaled slowly and reviewed his comments in his head. He was being irrational, when he looked at it objectively. He didn’t feel particularly spiteful, but maybe his dealings with his mother shook him more than he thought.
What was he thinking? Of course he was bugged out. But why didn’t he feel it? Maybe he was just numb to it all now...
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Trust didn’t get the chance either.” Sketch flicked a kernel off of leg that he hadn’t seen before. “What would you have wanted to do?” He reared his head as he remembered something Anthem had said earlier. “Wait, you said you went to college. What for?”
“Hm?” he asked despite clearly hearing him. “Aw, nuthin’, just some generic crap. Equestrian history, advanced maths, the works. Only went for a couple weeks.”
“A couple weeks?” What he had said implied that he maybe did enjoy school. Why did he leave? “What happened?”
“Some shit,” he dryly laughed. “I don’t wanna talk about it. Maybe later.” He seemed to go into deep thought for a few seconds, before shaking his head. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not fair. I know everything about you guys, but you don’t know anything about me.”
Sketch felt a pang of guilt suddenly. There wasn’t much he could do to convince him that it wasn’t necessary, but he had to try. “It’s okay, Anthem. Knowing you here and now is fine.” Sketch widened his eyes at that, surprised that the words were not spoken from his mouth. In fact, it sounded like... Trust? “Sketch doesn’t know a lot about my past, and I don’t know much about yours or Haren’s. And I don’t know as much as I could about Sketch. But it never mattered. The ponies you were doesn’t matter compared to the ponies you are now.” She lounged back into Sketch’s side, sighing a little to sensually and nuzzling his shoulder. “And I think you guys are swell.”
Anthem pursed his lips in an aggressive beam, looking like he was about to cry. “That’s so sweet...”
“Wow Sketch was right, you are a dork,” Trust snidely added quickly, opening one eye and smirking. Sketch disturbed his foreleg and bumped the back of Trust’s head in protest.
“What?”
Any reply was interrupted by a knock on the door. Anthem instantly got up and began the process of pausing the film. Sketch got up to answer the door for him, but stopped when Haren waved him down. Trust was already making the effort to hide herself, going into the nearby room.
Haren unlocked the door and swung it open. Sketch climbed atop the couch and looked on from the safety of behind the cushions. Sketch knew who it was from the beginning, but he needed to see her to believe it.
“Yes?” Haren asked incredulously. “It’s late and I don’t want whatever it is you’re selling.”
“S-sorry, I... wait... you’re Haren, aren’t you?” Sweet Night, at the other side of the door, asked in a wavering, light voice. Sketch knew his mother to be a brash, blunt soul. Telling you what was good for you even if it was harsh, but not without a firm serving of mercy. This voice was the voice of regret, and shame. Sketch didn’t like it coming out of her.
“Uh, yeah I am. How do you know?” The question was genuine, the fact Haren haven’t been able to figure it out yet becoming farther to reach because of the disorienting fact a stranger recognized her so easily.
“Oh, right! I uh... Sketch is friends with you right? He’s told me a lot about you.”
“Yeah, we’re friends. Sorry, who are you?” Haren sounded uneasy, as the revelation crept up in her head.
“I’m his mother.” Something about that stung Sketch’s heart. “You live with Anthem, correct?”
“U-uhh,” Haren choked, having to steady herself by grabbing the doorframe as the information nearly sent her to the floor. “Y... Yeah.... I a... am...fff....” Sketch rose his brow at Haren’s sudden reluctance to talk. She looked ready to run, her fur was standing along with her feathers.
“Isn’t that a bit odd?” Sketch winced as the words came out her mouth.
“E-excuse me?” Haren furrowed her brows and reared her head. “I-I’m sorry,” she firmly said, seeming to recover from her startled state as she grew in anger. “I didn’t think it was odd that he lured damsels to my lair so that I feast on their young. I-Is that weird for you ponies?”
It seemed that Sweet Night got the message, and poorly tried to make up for the mistake. “I’m s-sorry, I-I didn’t mean to... to imply that...” She took a couple of rapid breaths. “I meant odd for you. You’re a recent immigrant, right? I’ve heard that most griffins have roommates of their own, that most didn’t look for local help.”
“I’ve...” Haren started, sounding like she was going on another tirade. Fortunately, it seemed she remembered who she was talking to, and sighed in defeat. “Y-Yeah, yeah. I didn’t really think it that w-w-well through. I didn’t exactly have many f-friends back home, and even less... less here.” Haren’s stutter came back, and she had to brace herself with both arms. It looked as if she was going to pass out.
“O-oh, so that’s...” His mother paused, struggling to find the words. “Well, I’m glad you found some, including my son.”
There was a poignant pause, as Haren struggled to hold consciousness. Anthem, seemingly sensing the tension, pulled her away from the door and whispered something in her ear. To the trained eye, one could see him nibble on a stray feather. Haren stumbled away from the door, holding her forehead and flopping onto the couch next to Sketch. Her breathing was rapid, and all her muscles were strained. He had never seen Haren behave like that...
“You okay, Haren?” he asked, placing a tender hoof on his shoulder.
“Ffffuck...” was all she could manage.
“Yeah, he’s a great kid.” Anthem picked up where Haren left off, casually leaning where Haren was previously struggling to stand. “Forget he’s a kid sometimes.”
“That’s funny,” his mother laughed mirthlessly. “I forget that he’s not a kid anymore.”
Sketch sunk in his seat. He kept thinking there was two sides to this fight, but it was never just two. At a minimum, there was like five, and one of them was dubbed ‘Sketch’s Well Being’, the one his mother was on.
“I take it you’re Anthem?”
“Yes Ma’am.” He paused, and tapped his chin with his hoof. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?”
“S-sorry.”
“Ah, don’t apologize. Punch in me in gut first before you do that.” Anthem gave her an inviting smile, and she seemed to disarm herself.
“Hehe, no thanks.” She uneasily rubbed her hooves together. “I was wondering if you’ve seen Sketch. I said some poopy things to him, and he got mad and ran out. This was the only place I thought he’d go.”
“Why’s that?” he asked. Something about his tone suggested a milking.
“Well, he speaks very highly of you. You and Haren.”
“Is that right?” he milked, rubbing his chin. “Well, I’ll be honest with you, hon, we’re not exactly individuals to be spoken highly of.” Sketch facehoofed at Anthem calling his mother ‘hon’, but Sweet Night seemed to fail to notice. Probably the result of a couple decades of marriage.
“Regardless of whether or not that’s true, Sketch believes you to be an excellent role model.” She inhaled sharply. “And if he believes it, I believe it.”
“That’s...” Anthem loosened up, and softened his casual lean. “That’s very sweet.”
“So have you seen him?”
“Have I seen him?” he asked at a higher volume than normal, as he turned around. He tried to mask the contact he was trying to make to her son as a casual stretch, but it wasn’t very good. An actor he was not. As his eyes met with Sketch, he nodded his head sagely, and Anthem nodded back. “That’s a funny way of asking if he’s here right now.”
She paused, and blinked. “Uh... Is... is he here right now?”
“Why yes, he is,” he said, ushering in the mare and walking back into the living room before she could accept the invitation. He quickly trudged up to Haren and began pulling her off of the sofa. “Okay scaredy kitty, time to relax in the bedroom.” He rather impressively slung her over his shoulder and took a walk to their room, with Haren weakly waving good-bye to Sketch as she bobbed up and down in accordance to his steps. As Sweet Night entered the scene, she took one last awkward glance at the pony griffin couple walking off into the darkness.
“Sketch, I- woah.” she started but then promptly stopped as soon as she saw the expensive projector in the room. “This looks...”
“Professional?” Sketch offered. She waved her hoof in the middle of the air.
“I was going to say ‘nice’, but that works too.” She tried to behave like it was just another one of their playful banter sessions, but that quickly fell apart with Sketch’s nonplussed face. “I’m sorry Sketch, I didn’t mean to-”
“I know,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry too.”
There was a long silence, and his mother began to wipe her eyes and cheeks. “Dammit... This is all so... screwy.”
“How do you think I feel?” He rubbed the arm rest and averted his mother’s gaze. “I got mad cause I thought that you’d be on my side when you found out, but thinking that you’d do exactly what I wanted you to do... that you’d be perfect, and my definition of perfect, is unfair.” Sketch shrugged half-heartedly. “I know I actually don’t have much reason to trust Trust, pun notwithstanding. But if I don’t give her the chance she deserves, no one else will, and I expected you to back me.”
“Yeah...” She coughed. “I guess I didn’t really give her any chance at all.”
“You said that you believed that Anthem and Haren were good people just from the simple fact that I believed it. Well I want the same thing for Trust. I know it’s different because of what she is, but I don’t think that should matter.” He leaned over and looked her back in the eye. “She’s just... she’s super cool, Mom. I know she seems a little rough around the edges, but when she cares, she cares.”
His mother sighed once more and nodded. “I know that feeling.”
Sketch suddenly groaned loudly. “Oh, you better not be talking about Dad.”
“Hey we were young too, ya know,” she incredulously said with a nasal flair. “Seriously though, what are we going to do?”
“What do you mean?” Sketch asked, eyes wide. “I thought we handled everything.”
“No I mean, what are we gonna tell your father?” She bit her hoof. “He wasn’t home yet when I left.”
“You let me handle that...” He shuddered when he thought about his mother trying to explain the situation to a third party. “Just don’t worry about it.”
“This is a big deal Sketch,” she scoffed, throwing her hooves out. “You can’t just ignore this.”
“I won’t be able to. A journalist already took a picture of us.” He shrugged. “Whoops.”
“Seriously?”
“And there’s another batpony named Royal. A stallion.”
“Oh Celestia.”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy.” Sketch hugged himself, and just realized how tired he was. “I just really want this nightmare to end. But it’s just beginning.”
“I think you’re being a little dramatic,” Anthem called as he sauntered into the room. “You got friends and family. You’ll do fine.” He nodded towards Sketch’s mother. “Especially with help from you, Miss...?”
“Night. Sweet Night.”
“Anthem. Rock Anthem,” he held his hoof out. “We hadn’t had a proper introduction yet.”
“Your first name is Rock?” Sketch questioned. “I had no idea. I feel like that’s something I should know.”
“That’s not my first name, actually,” he revealed. “It’s my middle name. And no, I’m not going to tell you what my first name is.” He clopped his hooves together. “So! You gonna stick around for movie night?”
“Hm?” She quizzically looked all around the room. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I have to go back home to tell Books where Sketch is.”
“Oh wow, did he just come home to an empty house?” Sketch chuckled. “That’s sad.”
“Yeah, I should go before he starts freaking out,” she stated, getting up from the sofa and brushing some food crumbs off of her rump. She was a bit of a trooper not complaining about it. “Take your time, Sketch, and have fun. Spend the night if you wanna.” She took one step, froze, and turned back. “Unless Trust is here. Don’t spend the night if Trust is here.”
Sketch opened his mouth, but was beat by Anthem. “No, it’s just the three of us, Haren, me, and Sketch.”
Sketch closed and opened his mouth several times, caught off guard by the blatant lie. His mother was satisfied with the answer, and nodded with a smile. “Good. I almost made a huge parenting mistake, whoopsie!” She turned to leave again, but revolved around on the tip of her hoof so she faced them a final time. “One more question Sketch. What the heck was all that blood about?”
“Blood?” Sketch had almost forgotten about that, but that would’ve been too helpful. “Oh yeah, that was Trust’s blood.”
All the blood drained from his mother’s face, and Anthem snorted in shock. Sketch couldn’t figure out the cause of their reactions at first, but realized he could have worded that better. Now it was just a matter of listening to their absurd deductions and correcting them.
“Oh... o-oh my... that’s... I didn’t know a mare could... bleed that much from that,” his mom whispered in a pitch barely perceivable.
WOW! Holy shit! She really assumed the grossest possible thing! Sketch felt queasy, the thought of that possibility giving him nightmares for at least years to come. “What?! NO! That wasn’t-”
“I’m sure that wasn’t it.” Anthem’s attempt to be the voice of reason was betrayed by the fact his voice was wavering and uncertain. “Maybe they’re just into some kinky stuff.”
“NO! STOP!” Sketch felt like his face was going to explode off of his head. “She got hurt saving me off that stupid tram!”
“Really?” his mother breathed, instantly abandoning her previous train of thought. “Oh Celestia, that’s awful! Is she alright?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he confirmed, just glad the previous misunderstanding was taken care of. “She heals really fast. Kinda spooky.”
“She saved you?”
“Yup, woulda been dead without her.” Sketch winced at his own words, figuring he shouldn’t be so blase about his mortality in front of his own mother. He decided he wouldn’t mention that she was the reason he was down there in the first place. “Her and Royal raced to get me and another mare off that tram before it hit the ground.”
“Wow...” his mom exclaimed, rubbing her mane. “I feel like a total bitch now.”
There’s the Mom he knew. Blunt, and just a little vulgar. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Goodbye Sketchy. Have fun.”
He waved her off, and as the door closed behind her, he glared at Anthem. “Why did you lie for me?”
“You deserve some fun,” he shrugged. “Besides, if I lie you won’t have to. You’ve been lying too much, with no fault of your own.”
“Thanks I think?” Sketch tapped the cushions in a rhythm that conveyed his uncertainty. “I don’t know though, it’s a little weird.”
“You know, some ponies prefer it weird,” he beamed.
“Yeah, well I don’t.” He cleared his throat and bit his tongue. “Trust might though, I don’t know yet.”
“HA!” he snorted, slapping his knee. “I could see that. C’mon, let’s finish this dumb-ass movie.”
“Everypony died, it was awful,” Trust pouted, shoving the rest of the sandwich down her gullet. Anthem sounded like he sprung a leak as he scoffed and sputtered.
“That’s why it’s good!” Anthem began counting off examples as he tapped his hoof. “It’s about the nature of living creatures and the corruption money can bring out in ordinary ponies.” He folded his forelegs and scowled. “Besides, Howard and Coltin survived.”
“Yeah, but the gold!” she complained, flailing her limbs.
“It was never about the gold,” he explained, holding a hoof over his heart. “It was about the ponies.”
“You guys keep saying ponies,” Sketch spoke up, pursing his lips. “There were a lot of donkeys and mules in this movie.”
“Oh, I’m sorry Sketch,” Anthem taunted, giving jazz hooves. “We can’t all be as PC as you, with your broken Equish and shit.”
“I dunno, I don’t mind being called a pony,” Haren piped up, holding one of her digits up.
“Yeah, I bet you like getting ridden, with a saddle and everything,” Trust quipped. With no warning at all, Haren pounced on her, pushing her down off the couch, and pinning her on the floor.
“I like getting ridden huh? Huh bitch?!” Haren cackled and grunted as Trust struggled under her.
“Oh you think you can take me? I’ve fought squirrels tougher than you!” She used her hind legs to lift Haren off the floor and flipped on top of her. Haren’s evil grin completely disappeared as she suddenly felt weightless under Trust’s massive strength.
Sketch began to get up to stop them, but was stopped by Anthem’s leg hitting his chest. His eyes said, ‘Naw dude, let it happen this is hot.’
Sketch had weird friends.
“WOAH HOLY SHIT, you’re strong!” Haren gasped for breath as she attempted to get a better grip on the admittedly tiny batmare. “But you’re so small!”
“Good things in small packages!” Trust beamed, unable to hide her obvious joy in the scuffle.
“Yeah, bet you know all about that!” Haren shot back, sticking her tongue out of her beak. Sketch furrowed his brow.
“Was that a dig at me?” Sketch’s question was answered by a hysterical guffaw from Anthem, and he gave a deadpan stare at a wall in lieu of an audience.
Haren seemed to be getting the upper hand, once she had stopped underestimating her strength. She was still stronger than Trust despite the latter’s unnatural strength. However, Trust appeared to be more flexible, as she repeatedly broke Haren’s grip and slipped away. Haren was shouting all sort of expletives as Trust swept her legs from under her and pinned her on the ground. “Anypony have a saddle?” Trust yelled out to Sketch and Anthem. “This little pony’s going to the stable!”
“Please, Trust, I can only get so aroused,” Anthem choked, unable to hide his grin. “Get off my marefriend, please.”
“Oh, stop giving her ammo, Anthem,” Haren scolded from below Trust.
He arched his brow and mouthed ‘what?’
“You called me your marefriend.” Haren deadpanned, but the effect fell short because of her ridiculous pretzel position on the floor.
“Well you are.” Anthem said matter-of-fact. “I thought we all knew this...?”
“I’m not a mare, dummy!” Haren shouted. “I’m a griffin!”
“Oh shit,” Anthem chuckled. “I forgot.”
That made Sketch lose it, spitting a drink he didn’t have, holding his sides lest they pop off of him. He tried to hold at least a little air in his lungs as he lost most of it in mighty guffaws. Trust and the others looked at him as if he just sprouted antlers.
“It’s not that funny, dude,” Anthem said with a weak and friendly smile.
“I know,” Sketch confirmed between breaths. Despite Anthem’s comment, the others began to giggle slightly by proxy. “I just... I knew I liked you guys but I never really knew why.”
“You like us because we’re all dumb?” Anthem asked, itching his eyebrow.
“No, no. Well, beside that.” He shook his head and took a few steady breaths. “Just... Haren acting like she’s angry but is just looking for an excuse to get everyone all riled up, Anthem you seeing things at face value and more concerned with character than nature, forgetting people’s species cause you’re so open minded...” he wiped a tear from his eye, and cleared his throat. “Pretty sure there’s no one like you three, you frickin’ weirdos.”
“We try, Trust GET OFF OF ME.” Haren rolled over, knocking Trust off balance and sending her to the floor. “We try,” she reiterated, rubbing her shoulder.
“No you don’t,” Sketch denied. “That’s why you’re awesome. Don’t have to try.”
“Alright, this is getting too sappy for me, I’m going to bed.” Anthem got up off of his seat and stretched, craning his neck until it cracked. “Don’t get too comfortable.”
“No promises,” Trust commented, biting her lip and giving Sketch an over the top sultry look.
“Well, I’m going too,” Haren pitched in. “I’m not actually tired, but you know... sex.” She moved an arm, and grimaced when it cracked. “Aw, jeez gurl, you’re really rough and tumble.”
“Yeah, don’t mess, bitch!” Trust motioned to her own body. “Not with the best,”
“I won’t but I might mess with you again.”
“Alright, we don’t have to start anything up again, anyone, yeesh.” Anthem walked off, not allowing Trust to reply. She simply blew a raspberry as Haren walked away.
As the door to Anthem’s room shut, Trust sauntered towards her unicorn, and giggled. “That was fun.”
“See? They’re not bad.” Sketch smugly folded his forelegs. “You were all reluctant and stuff.”
“I just didn’t think there could be anypony like him,” she commented. “Guess I was wrong.”
“Like him?” Sketch wracked his brain and remembered something she had told him nigh on a week ago. “Deecha, right?”
“Yeah. At a point, I thought it possible that ponies were incapable.” Trust began walking towards the small hall leading to their room. “Glad to see I was wrong.”
Sketch followed her in and switched on the light. It hadn’t really hit him that they were using Haren’s old room until then. A lone chair, a lamp, and a large bed were the only things there. He wondered if she decorated the living room too, with how plain it was. In fact, did all of his friends have such bland taste? Syntax’s apartment was also unsettlingly bare.
Trust flopped onto Haren’s bed and groaned. “Warning with the lights please!”
“Heh, sorry,” he apologized, and headed almost immediately towards the dresser. “I wonder if she has anything in here we shouldn’t see?”
“Like what? Whips? And... what’s that lacy underwear called?” Trust rolled over and blinked a few times, forcing her eyes to readjust themselves.
“Lingerie?” he asked, opening the first drawer. Very briefly he imagined Haren wearing that stuff, and immediately wanted to slam his face into the corner of the dresser. Trying to find a replacement thought, he accidently imagined Trust wearing it, and that nearly exploded the blood vessels in his nose. He distracted himself with the contents of the drawers, and was pleased to see no such thing in them. There were plain shirts in there, a couple of t-shirts, and quite a bit of flannels. A lot of flannels actually. He wondered why, but after imagining Haren in one, it was clear why. He bet she popped the collar on them. Now he really wanted to draw it.
He opened the second drawer, and reared his head at the contents. Suits? Full suits, shirts, and ties, neatly folded in a presentable manner and stacked atop each other in pairs. There were six in total. “Weird,” he whispered under his breath. Haren definitely would look good in a suit, and he didn’t exactly see her as a dress gal, but what use would she have for formal wear at all? Perhaps this was for when she first moved to Equestria, trying to get a career job. There must have been a reason to go to Canterlot, after all, other than just the fair she went to as a kid. She was an intellectual in a past life, before she met Anthem, that much was obvious. She had expressed an interest in education. Maybe she wanted to get a high profile job and it didn’t work out... Probably because she was a griffin.
There was no point in making assumptions, though, he should probably just ask her someday.
He opened the last drawer, and sharply inhaled when he saw what was in it. A dusty typewriter, an old model, with a pile of five or so ink ribbons stacked next to it. “Ooooh.” This must have been the typewriter she wrote her book with! He poked it, feeling a strange pang of giddiness as he did. It was weird to think about, being a fan of Haren’s. He felt a trace of pride as well, but it didn’t feel right considering how young he was when he enjoyed the book. A small frown found itself on Sketch when he realized she didn’t even have a copy of her own book in her place. He knew she was a bit embarrassed by it, but it was an accomplishment. He shut the drawer and looked towards Trust...
Who was already asleep.
He blinked a few times. Trust was nocturnal, and she never really slept at night, maybe having a catnap or two. But she looked pretty conked out. It was a pretty crazy day, and she was up for most of the afternoon, so it made sense. He smiled and climbed into bed with her after turning off the light.
Even if this does become a huge mess, they’d be okay. If it does become too hectic, to the point where it’s dangerous to walk on the streets, they’d just leave. Maybe live in the wilderness, and ask Royal for pointers. Or perhaps, they’d move to one of those villages that aren’t a part of the census yet. Hopefully there wouldn’t be a creepy cult or something there. That would be terrifying, being forced to become a part of something that you didn’t want to.
Maybe he was tired too, his mind was coming up with some pretty implausible stuff.
He shoved his muzzle into the back of Trust’s mane and closed his eyes, wrapping his forelegs around her chest. He heard her sigh sensually, and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He still wasn’t used to being so close to her.
“Sorry, i’m kinda tired. Didn’t mean to fall asleep so fast,”
He responded by nuzzling her neck and squeezing her gently. “Why you apologizing? It’s what beds are for.”
She turned her head and opened her eyes, the light from them nearly blinding him. “I wanted to... you know...”
“Oh.” Even if Trust didn’t have her odd night vision, he was pretty sure she could see the red on his face. “Yeah,” he said, not really sure how to respond.
“Hey, when you were saying how cool everypony was, you left me out,” Trust whispered. “I’m not saying anything, cause you went into it with your mother, but I was just wondering why.”
“Heh,” he chuckled, getting closer to her ear. “Just wanted to be alone when I said.”
“Oh yeah?” she egged on, bumping her eyebrows.
“You bring out the best in people. When you’re done being all defensive, you know just what buttons to push. You make people passionate. Like I said before.” He ran his leg up her chest, and she turned back around, thrumming in comfort. “You make me care.”
“Sketch,” she began, gently flipping over so she was facing him. “I don’t know what to do.”
He blinked, and gave a half-smile. “I’m just going to assume you mean philosophically, since we already had sex.”
She giggled and punched him in the chest. “C’mon Sketch, I’m allowed to get all deep and shit, too.” She sighed in frustration and looked off to the side. “It always feels like I’m not doing enough, you know? Like, I could be doing something to fix all this, but I’m not.”
“Yeah, it sucks,” he empathized. “It’s always going to feel like that.” He sighed back and scrunched his nose up to hers and puffed his cheeks out. “Just know that being there for others is exactly what they need.”
“Hehe,” she laughed, copping a feel while he was distracted. He whimpered at the sudden contact. “You sap.”
The cold wind ripped through his hair as stars passed by him, a train passing by on a mountain, that he was somehow simultaneously on. He heard laughter in the distance, even though the ponies laughing were right in front of him. It was the usual nonsense, but instead of playing along, like he usually didn’t have the option to deny, he was surprisingly lucid. He faced the moon, that wasn’t there a second ago, and noticed how large it was. “I don’t know if you can hear me. But if you can... I want to know you. If you really have something to do with Trust. It doesn’t matter to me what you are...
I’m not going to give up on her. I’m not going to give up on you.”
We shall see, child.
We shall see.
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the more this story progress, the more interesting its gets
8139750 Aw thanks, I'm trying. I really wanted to have a very slight sprinkle of mystery in what is otherwise a pretty by the books slice of life, and an exponential increase of stakes as it progresses. Glad to see its working for someone. :]
Now I really want to know the connection between Trust and NMM
What? Haha! Wow, quite the imagination you've got there, sketch!
Dead Money reference!
9338284
Lol, as much as I love FNV and Dead Money, it’s an actual classic movie. The “Badges?!” line is a very iconic dialogue exchange in it, and the film directly influenced the themes and motifs explores in Dead Money. It’s about the darkness in every mans heart where greed can corrupt even righteous souls. It’s a good watch.