Intermission. Session 04
“She had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through,
Then passed right by-
And never knew.”
-Shil Silverstein
Syntax sighed and blinked, forcing her eyes to moisten after the sleepless night before. She always had trouble sleeping, but the last couple of nights had been unbearable. The gnawing feeling in the back of her head grew stronger and stronger as the hours passed, a feeling she was no stranger to.
Trepidation. That was one word for it. She wasn’t so idiotic to think that these decisions she made weren’t affecting her in some way. Sketch was a good kid, and she had no reason to dislike Trust. She had saved her life, after all. But there was nothing Syntax could do. Her mind was made up.
This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it won’t be the last. But this was the strongest personal relationship she had with a subject since...
Since him. Not making the same mistake twice.
There was that familiar knock on the door.
“Coming!” she shouted as soon as possible. She straightened out the stray strands of hair in her mane and removed her glasses, placing them on the counter of the kitchen. She grabbed a stray glass off of the nearby table and used the reflection to check her teeth for any residue, before finally approaching the door and clearing her throat. “Royal.” she greeted as she opened the door.
Except, it wasn’t royal. “Uh, thanks?” the mailpony quizzically said. “Kind of an odd complement.”
Syntax blinked. Had she really forgotten to check the peephole? Slipping.
“Uh, yeah,” she stammered, only for a second. “Got something for me?”
“Sure thing, Syntax. Your editor saw me and he wanted me to tell you that you need a new story within the next month to keep up with your payments.” He shrugged and fished through his bag, hoofing her a few envelopes. “Here’s your mail. You guys need to find a better way of communicating.”
“Yeah, well he’s the one who refuses to live in Canterlot.” She grabbed the envelopes and nodded towards the mailpony. “Thanks, Sleet.”
“No problem Miss Syntax,” he welcomed. “All in a day’s work.”
She slammed the door as he walked away, a little harder than she thought she was going to. She took a few steps towards her sofa, and dropped her mail onto the floor. She sat down and stared at the wall.
Trepidation. That was one word for it. Guilt, regret, remorse, hesitance, anxiety. Many names for the same demon. There wasn’t anything else about it. The mask was starting to crack.
....
....
There was a familiar knock on the door. Syntax woke up, sharply inhaling and wiping the drool from her lips. She panickedly checked her mane and teeth, rocketing up from her seat and torpedoing to the door. “Jusssasecond-” she mumbled, and threw the door open.
“Oh.” Royal recoiled from the sudden gust of wind from the abruptly opened door. There was that dumb look of dull surprise that Syntax had gotten to know so well. He wore that look pretty much every time she had answered one of his questions, the rate of which had increased exponentially. He was probably learning more than Syntax despite him the one being interviewed. “Is there something wrong?”
“Huh?” she slurred, looking around her. “N, no why?”
“You look mildly flustered.” Royal averted her gaze, which was rather odd considering his usual temperament. “You opened the door pretty quickly.”
“Huh?” she slurred again, leaning on the door. “What? Girl can’t open ‘er fukkin door the way she wants, ‘EH?!” Her eyes widened as she heard her own voice, and she winced when she repeated her line in her head.
Royal just sat and stared.
“Sorry,” she apologized, getting up from her leaning position and clearing her throat. “Just woke up. And I think I’m a little drunk, too.” She tapped her chin. “I should probably be more sure of that.”
Royal gave one of his chuckles, the one that only lasted a single heave and he didn’t smile for. Of course, he rarely smiled, so that didn’t mean the laugh wasn’t genuine. In fact quite the opposite, his smile was usually reserved for his dubious side instead. The laugh also wasn’t dubious because he also did that thing with his eyes. They become softer, rounder. His eyebrows also divot at their ends when he’s experiencing a measurable amount of mirth. “May I enter? Somepony’s going to see me.”
She exhaled, a small amount of energy running through her knees. “You know you don’t have to ask, right?” She ushered him in and followed behind as he entered.
“So what’s on the menu today?” He approached the tomato basket and plucked one of the last three out of it, taking a bite as he approached his usual seat. “Biology was a garbage fire.”
Syntax felt the involuntary rush of blood to her cheeks as she recalled the events of the night before. “Hehe, yeah. Turns out you aren’t much different than a normal pegasus other than the obvious stuff and your eyes. Including erogenous zones in the wings...” Honestly she just wanted an excuse to fondle his weird leathery wings, but it wasn’t like he’d ever know that.
“You should be a masseuse,” he casually encouraged, raising both of his brows up simultaneously.
“Yeah, yeah, enough jokes.”
“There’s never enough,” he quipped folding his foreleg over the other. He was content on half-laying on the sofa with his belly depressed against the cushions for some reason. All of his interviews were done at a forty-five degree angle, which honestly frustrated her to no end. Well, maybe frustrated was the wrong word, she never felt particularly angry. There was just this thing about his insistence on doing things a certain way that... irked her somehow. Like how he always asked for permission before walking in despite everything he’s putting a risk by doing so.
“Indeed.” Syntax tapped her chin, thinking about the possible next subject. History, biology, philosophy (that was interesting), feelings (that was unfruitful)... what next?
“Preferences,” Syntax said sharply. “Nothing about meat please.”
“Preferences...” Royal repeated, tasting the word on his own tongue. “What I enjoy?”
“Yup.”
Click!
Royal (Batpony interviewee): “Hmmn... never really had to think about it.”
Syntax Axiom (Interviewer): “Well think long and hard, Royal. There’s no time limit.”
R: “Well you have to give me some frame of reference.”
S: “How so?”
R: “Give me a category.”
S: “Okay... any food you enjoy?”
R: ”Mea-”
S: “AHEM.”
R: “...Right. Well...”
He looked down at the bits of tomato in his hoof and took another bite.
R: “Tomatoes.”
S: “Excellent choice, but surely that’s not it.”
R: “Well I didn’t really have much choice in what I ate. That wasn’t a luxury that I could afford.”
S: “Don’t be ridiculous, Bats. You enjoyed some foods more than others, barring necessity.”
R: “...I just... never thought about it.”
S: “Stop thinking about it. What do you want to eat right now?”
R: “................Strawberries.”
S: “There you go. Was that so hard?”
R: “Exceedingly.”
S: “Oh hush. Now what is it about strawberries do you like?”
R: “Are... you serious?”
S: “Exceedingly. Come on, Bats, there’s a lot you can tell from a pony’s temperament, attitude, and decision making process from the nature of their preferences.”
R: “Hmmn... I don’t know about that.”
S: “Oh, are you such an expert about it suddenly, college boy?”
R: “DON’T.”
Syntax nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden even snap, not expecting such a volume increase to the calmest pony she had ever known. As she looked up from her notepad, Royal seemed as surprised as she was. He quickly leveled himself, and averted her gaze again.
R: “Please don’t.”
S: “I’m... sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.”
R: “It’s okay...
A veritable pause later...
R: “It’s sour.”
S: “What?”
R: “They’re the sweetest looking fruits, but they’re tangy, just a little bit.”
S: “Well only some of them are that way. And you like that?”
R: “Yes, I think... It makes it more interesting.”
S: “Hmmn. So usually people like strawberries because the enjoy the front facing sweetness, getting exactly what they want with very little effort. But you enjoy them because of the tart that some of them have. So you want depth.”
R: “Do you like strawberries?”
S: “Uh... yeah. Nothing to write home about, but I’ll eat them.”
R: “What do you like about them?”
He was doing it again; asking her questions during the interview. It was so... frustrating, but maybe that was the wrong word for it. She wasn’t particularly angry about it.
S: “I like... the seeds.”
R: “Really?”
S: “Yeah... strawberry is a rather ordinary flavor. The texture those cute little seeds provide makes them more than ordinary.”
R: “So you enjoy it when things are complicated.”
Syntax nearly dropped her pen. She didn’t know why it caught her so off guard, but something about the smugness in his voice...
“That’s just what I gather from that,” he teased, giving a half-smirk.
She blinked... and smiled back.
S: “...Alright. Enough about that. What about art?”
R: “Not really interested.”
S: “Is that right?”
R: “Capturing an image using graphite and paper seems just as well as taking a photo. Might as well save time with a camera. ...Thanks for teaching me cameras by the way.”
That had to be a dig about Sketch’s photo.
S: “What about the more abstract art?”
R: “Pretentious. Just say what you want to say. Put words in the air and construe feelings and emotions that way.”
S: “So you’re saying that you like... writing better? Stories?”
R: “Yes. I forget that counts as art as well.”
S: “What kinds of stories?”
R: “All kinds. I don’t care whether it's happy or scary, or sad or thrilling, fake or real.”
S: “What’s your prefered genre? Something that you would pick up over the other.”
R: “I wouldn’t ‘pick up’ anything. I can barely read.”
S: “Ah... yes.”
R: “But to answer your question, Romance. Comedic romance. Much Ado About Nothing is my favorite.”
S: “R-really?”
R: “Haha, why the uncertainty?”
Royal’s laugh knocked her out of her focus. She didn’t dare look at his face, content with tapping the notebook with her pen.
S: “I don’t know... just with everything you’ve said, I was expecting drama or thriller.”
R: “Yes, well maybe I’m a bit more optimistic than I let on.”
S: “Maybe. You know, there are things called comics. It’s a series of small images on multiple pages along with dialogue written on them in order to tell a story with visual elements.”
R: “Sounds like a hell of lot of work for the artist. Unnecessarily so.”
S: “Hahaha! How jaded.”
R: “Might as well take photos.”
S: “Well there’s that too.”
R: “Comics made out of photos?”
S: “No. Films. They’re pretty new, only been around for a decade or so. A series of around twenty pictures a second play to give the illusion of movement for actors to act out a play.”
R: “W... What...”
S: “Yup. Even better, you can splice these series of images together for immediate scene changes, or even special effects like ponies’ heads getting chopped off by cutting to a fake headless body after an axe gets close to a character’s head.”
R: “Stop.”
Syntax immediately obeyed without thinking, clicking the tape recorder off. She surprised herself with the speed at which she did so. “What’s wrong?”
“You aren’t lying to me, are you?” Royal asked, almost panicked. ‘Almost panicked’, for Royal, was a slight lilt in his voice with slightly wider eyes, but his mood was odd nonetheless.
“Why...” she started, holding a hoof to her chest. Was she actually... offended? She lied to him a lot, there’s no reason to be offended, but the thought of him not trusting her actually made her stomach churn. “Why would I lie about that?”
“Please, I don’t...” Royal started to take large deep breaths, and stared at the wall behind Syntax. She quickly and covertly turned the recorder back on. This had to be on record. “I don’t want this to not be true... Don’t...”
Royal had completely stopped speaking, and was just breathing faster and faster. She immediately got up from her seat and zipped to his side. She awkwardly put a hoof on his shoulder and tried to shush him. She wasn’t very good at this sort of thing, but she had to do something. It would be inequine to just watch him suffer. “Shhhhhushhh. I’m not lying, Royal. It’s there.”
He slowed his rapid breathing, and remained as still as a statue once he calmed down. They simply stayed for a while.
R: “I had lost hope. I was only able to get the full story in bits, in an archaic order, never really knowing the thing I loved. I tried to get into a play once. Got spotted so fast, and I was barely able to get out in time. But these films...”
S: “Maybe you could see one eventually.”
R: “Oh... Celestia. That’s what you say when you can’t believe something right? Use her name in vain, correct? Celestia. Celestia. Oh my Princess Celestia...”
S: “Hehaheh, alright, alright.”
R: “So do you have to read a script next to the pictures, or...?”
S: “We used to do something like that, but now we have these cool tape recorders. Same tech, but different make, they record sounds to play along the movie.”
R: “You can’t be serious.”
S: “Totally serious.”
R: “Even... music?”
S: “Big scores of orchestral music, bellowing over epic sweeping shots of snow covered mountains, as earth ponies and pegasi rage a war against the unicorns in 2000 BC.”
Royal smiled. Not his dubious smile. A new, refreshing smile, showing both sets of teeth, baring his fangs so far the looked like a snake’s. There was a distinct smell of... spearmint in the air for some odd reason. It was very strange, but Syntax had lost any sense of thought for her musings as Royal’s wide smile nearly knocked her out. That familiar energy that she felt whenever Royal did something interesting... it shot throughout her entire body. She couldn’t help but smile in proxy.
R: “Thank you.”
S: “I didn’t really do anything.”
R: “Hmm... Could I show you something?”
S: “What exactly?”
R: “We’ll have to walk a bit of a way.”
S: “Oh?”
R: “Yes. It’s near the lake.”
Syntax clicked her tape recorder, She bit the inside of the bottom of her lip and groaned slightly. “Near the lake?”
He nodded and Syntax furrowed her brow and looked at the ceiling. “I don’t know about that, Bats. I’m not even ready to go out anywhere. And its late.”
“It’s not late for me,” he stated as if it solved everything. “Besides how could you get more ready? You’re couldn’t be more beautiful than you are right now.”
“Wh-what?!” Syntax reared her head at the unexpected compliment. Royal simply looked at her with his usual dead stare, like he had said that cat is spelled c-a-t.
Royal scratched his head. “What what?”
“Just, what’s with the weird compliments?” She gathered herself just enough to anxiously chuckle.
“Not really a compliment. I just don’t see what you could do to make yourself look better.” Royal stared at her with dead eyes. Syntax stared back, looking for any movement. The scrutinization was long and arduous, but he seemed to believe his own statement objectively.
“O... kay.” She started to rub her shoulder, as she all of the sudden felt really silly. “Well, Canterlot doesn’t see it that way. At the very least, I’m gonna have to take a shower and do my hair.” As if on cue, one of the hairs she straightened out popped out of place.
“Shower.” Royal spouted abruptly. Syntax waited him for continue, but he never did, leading to an absurdly awkward silence. After what seemed like an eternity, Royal took the hint. “What is it? Shower?”
“Oh, okay.” Syntax laughed nervously, wondering how he had gotten this far not knowing what a shower is. Then again, in the situations he was in, it probably wouldn’t come into casual conversation in the classes he eavesdropped on. “Bathing.”
“Ah. And I assume it’s like being rained on.”
“That’s...” Syntax blinked a few times. “Yeah. Wow. Never really thought about it like that.”
“And see how easy that is?” Royal quipped slightly raising one of his brows.
“Yeah, yeah, perspective is a weird thing.” Syntax chuckled and made her way upstairs. “I’ll be down in about forty minutes.” She could swear he was mouthing ‘forty-minutes’ in astonishment as she left.
Syntax felt weird using the upstairs bathroom. Technically, this is the one she was supposed to be using the most, considering it was around seventeen steps from her bed. But it usually made her uncomfortable for some reason. She never liked taking her eyes off of the living room, even to sleep.
Also, nothing was broken in here.
On the north end was a double sink and a large mirror expanding nearly the entire wall, stopping at a tall cupboard holding various towels and pleasantries. Everything else was pretty bare, aside from a few towel racks, hoof bars, and of course, the tub and shower. It was a pretty spacious bathroom as well, as it should be for how much she pays for the place. She approached the tub and pulled the knob to start the water flow, and switched the pressure for the shower nozzle instead of the bath faucet.
She closed her eyes and let her muscles decompress at the soothing sound of water hitting the bottom of the tub. Steam began to rise along with the heat, fogging the mirrors and making it just that little bit more difficult to breathe. A side effect of the thickening of the air forced her to steady her breath to a calmer, more stable rate. She tested the water with her foreleg, and determining it was perfect, took one big step into it. She couldn’t help be a bit vocal at how good the message of the water hitting her fur felt. She hoped her voice didn’t carry into the living room. She moved her head up and let the water hit her face and wash over her hair. She stayed there for a while, deciding that, if she wanted to, she could probably fall asleep like this.
She did that once, actually. Best sleep she had in years, but she was wrinkly for a week. That was an embarrassing interview.
“Why is your hair a different color at the roots?”
Syntax screamed, grabbing the shower curtain in a poor effort of defense, but falling when she didn’t have the added stability of her forelegs. The curtain went down along with her with a few violent rips, until she hit the porcelain bottom in an unceremonious thud. Royal rushed over as she hit the bottom.
“Woah, are you alright?” he asked as if she was the crazy one.
“What are you doing in here?” she groaned as he reached for her. She instinctively accepted the helping hoof despite common sense telling her not to. It took her one second to realize how far he was in. “Get out of the tub!”
Royal retracted himself instantly once he was sure she wouldn’t fall again. He was soaking wet from the waist up, now. Syntax looked down and saw black dirt flowing into the drain. “Oh Celestia you’re filthy.”
“Your welcome,” Royal spat, his deadpan returning.
“It was your fault I fell!” she defended.
“How so?” he challenged.
“You don’t just... sneak up on ponies when they’re in the shower like that.” She subconsciously turned her body away from him so that he could see less of her. “This is supposed to be private.”
“Why?” His hair was bizarrely a lighter color than usual despite being soaked with water. His usual unkempt style was now matted to his forehead and neck, and nearly completely obscured his eyes. Honestly, he looked silly. His crazy spiky mane often played into his drab deadpan attitude, but now he looked like a nerdy student who forgot to dry his head before coming to class.
“Cause... I dunno... I’m indecent?” She ducked a little further behind the tub. Royal scratched his mane.
“You don’t normally wear clothes.” Royal closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, not sharply enough to even hear. “Why is the air so thick?”
“Cause there’s water in it,” she said as a matter-of-fact. She probably be more adamant about telling him to leave but....
But? There was no but. She should be telling him to leave.
She wasn’t.
Oh well.
“Hmmn. It’s nice.”
Syntax scrunched up her nose and scowled, a new stench gracing her nose. “What is that smell?”
“Water?” he offered.
“What? No. It’s like... rotten apples.” She placed her hoof on her nose and pressed it firmly, as if it would get rid of the smell.
Royal looked down at himself and furrowed his brow. “I think it may be me.”
The musty air was making the smell worse. “Oh jeez, how often do you bathe?”
“Uh, just when I get blood on me.” He tapped his muzzle. “Of course there’s not a lot a meat available in the winter.”
Syntax was already nauseous from the smell, and the mention of meat nearly made her give up her lunch. She hatched an idea in her head, and she jumped on it despite its scandalousness. Anything to get rid of the smell. “Alright, no. I’m not hanging around this smell all day. Get in.”
“What?” Royal cocked his head. “You said this is a private thing, and now you want me in with you?”
“Yeah well we can just forget it for now.” She folded her forelegs and glared at him. “It’s already late and I’m not wasting any more time. Beside, I don’t trust you to do it correctly.” She shrugged. “It’s only weird if you make it weird.”
“Well,” he said uneasily. “If you say so.”
The tub was big enough so they wouldn’t have to touch while bathing, so it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Wasn’t this something they did in Neighpon? Yeah, it’s not weird. At all.
Royal stepped in, and as soon as the water hit the top of his head, he widened his eyes and his pupils dilated to the point where they nearly looked like normal pony’s pupils. If this continued, Syntax figured he may actually physically start to melt.
“O-oo-oh,” he wavered, he knees wobbling. “I didn’t know that... this felt... like this...” He slumped down and directed his face upward, taking the brunt of the hot water.
Syntax couldn’t help but smile at the juxtaposition. He was hogging most of the water, but she was okay with that. He needed it a lot more than she did, evidenced by the black tinted water heading towards the drain. She tried to not think of the biology interview, that her hooves touched some of that dirt. Gross.
She grabbed her shampoo bottle, squeezed some onto her hoof, and lathered it into her hair, and quickly trailed the soap around her body. She didn’t want to give too much of a show to him, since she had already been too lax with what she was letting him get away with, so she ignored grabbing the body wash and settled on using the lathered shampoo. Luckily, he wasn’t really looking in the first place and was content on just standing there with his eyes closed and letting the water hit him.
She looked at the bottle she placed on the edge of the tub and hatched an idea.
Squeezing a healthy amount of soap into her hoof once again, she slowly reached for his head...
“What are you doing?” He asked abruptly, slightly opening his left eye.
“Oh! Uh... Nothin’.” She froze in place for a few seconds, and after a small staring contest, she lunged at the batstallion, smushing the soap into his mane. He flinched, but didn’t resist.
“Geh,” was his only protest. “What are...?”
“I bet you’ve never used soap, huh?” She roughly tousled his mane, making sure the bubbles of the soap lathered deeply to the roots of his hair. He had one eyes closed as he mildly grimaced from the roughness. It was honestly kind of cute. Really, she didn’t understand why he was letting her do this to him. He could definitely stop her, and it must have been at least a little demeaning, but here they were. She briefly wondered if she’d let him do it to her, if he asked...
To lather soap in her hair. The thought excited her more than she expected.
“Miss Syntax?”
Syntax blinked. Was she spacing out again? No, this is an acceptable amount of time to lather soap in one’s mane. “What?”
“How long do you have to do this?”
“Like thirty seconds.” That meant ten more to go. “Smell familiar?”
“Hmmn?” He closed both eyes again and concentrated. “Hmm... Strawberries.”
“Your favorite!” she sang in a teasing tone. He actually laughed at that. She dropped off of his mane and stepped back. He took a moment, before washing the soap off and opening his eyes under the water.
“Now I smell like strawberries.” He cracked a slight smirk. “Excellent. Now what? Are you going to soap my body too?”
She felt blood rise to her cheeks, and, combined with the heat of the water, made her woozy and nearly faint. “N-no no no! You can do that yourself. Just... lemme finish me.”
She gently pushed him aside and began to wash the soap off, somewhat worried he was going to ogle her in the vulnerable state. Though, thinking back on it, Royal never did anything for a sexual reason, more childlike curiosity and naivete. Even walking in on her like this was an honest mistake.
“You never answered my question,” he suddenly commented as she ran her hooves down her lengthy hair.
“About what? My roots?” She opened one eye slightly to meet his gaze, but was admittedly a little disappointed when she saw he was looking the other way. “I need to redye my hair soon.”
“Dye your mane?” he asked. “Like, paint it?”
“Not paint, really, but you got the right idea.” Honestly she should be recording all of this, but she was too soaking wet to go grab her tape recorder now. “So yeah.”
“So your real hair color is brown,” he said, tapping his chin. “Why change it to beige?”
“My fur is a rust color. Orange reddish. Brown blends in with it too much for my taste. I much prefer the grungy white and red look better.” She finished her wash and looked at Royal. He must have felt her gaze, so he turned back to look at her. “Also... an old friend said he liked this color.”
“Well, I don’t think you have to paint yourself to be pretty.” Royal’s plain face actually scared her a little, his innocent compliments chinking away at her armor. “In fact, I think brown hair would go great with your fur.”
She smirked, being careful to add a dose of skepticism to it. “Yeah? Well maybe i’ll bleach it out someday.” She reached for the faucet and turned off the water. She stepped out of the bath and went to the cupboard to grab a couple towels.
“You know, I think your mane looks better this way, more natural,” he commented as he dried his mane with the caught towel. Syntax blinked a few times and looked towards the mirror. Her usual neat pile was laid down in wet curly waves, filled with uneven bangs and archaic patterns.
“Really? It looks awful.”
“Well, you could wear anything well.”
She held her chest and looked away, attempting to focus on drying herself. Why did he keep doing that? Maybe he was just in a good mood after finding out about films.
“Oh stop,” she half-heartedly commanded. She made it sound less genuine than she intended. She threw her towel at his face. He didn’t react at all as the damp towel wrapped around him. He slowly peeled it off, to reveal a tiny smirk. “I’m ready. Let’s go wherever your stupid thing is.”
The skytram was back up, but there was no way in hell Syntax was taking that any time soon. She navigated her way through the streets, making her way to the city gates. It was probably going to take around an hour and a half to get to the lake on hoof. And if they were going to spend an hour there, that means she was going to be out for four hours. Why the hell was she doing this for Bats?
It was simple. She liked him.
No point in pretending that she didn’t. He was a peaceful, artistic soul. Incredibly extrospective and naturally curious, and selfless. Everything about him was likable. Maybe, in another life, she’d be able to call him her friend, and vice versa. But what she was planning on doing to him and his friends would never allow it. The burden of a journalist. Syntax may want to be friends, but the reporter would never be able to. She wondered if he liked her. Well he must like her if he kept saying all those things about her.
Syntax spotted the city gate in the distance, along with a familiar guard standing at the ready. “Hey Hal,” she greeted the guard as she approached the gates.
“Syntax?!” He nervously shuffled his weapon, which was rather embarrassing since the royal guard’s weapon use averaged at a whopping .21 occurrences per year. Hal Bird scowled and a few sweat drops rolled down his temples. “Are, are you interviewing the guard again? I can’t afford another suspension.”
“Calm down, Hal. I’m just passing through.”
“Yeh, well do us all a favor and don’t come back, eh?” Despite his rude statements, he opened the gate anyway and ushered her through. “Make everyone’s lives easier.”
“If everyone had easy lives, the guard would be corrupt without somepony breathing down their neck.” She poked his chest, but he remained still.
“Yeah, yeah, say what you want about honest workin’ individuals. Have a nice day, Axiom Syntax.” The venom he spat as he wished her luck was less toxic than he probably wanted. She kind of just wanted to laugh in his face.
She shook her head and just walked through the gates, taking the path down Canterlot mountain. Once she got far enough from the population, she spotted Royal flying down from above. “What are you doing? The skytram is the other way,” he mentioned as he touched down.
“Are you crazy? I’m not getting in that thing again. Not for a while.” She shivered a bit. “I swear, if you guys didn’t save us and I didn’t die, I’d sue their damn bones dry.”
“You could have still taken it,” he insisted. “I wouldn’t have let you fall.”
She chuckled darkly. “Seemed like you would’ve on account of the night of the incident.”
“I knew Sketch. I didn’t know you. I’m sorry.”
A devious part of her brain thought about asking him who he would choose now, but she thought better of it. “I know, it’s fair. I would’ve done the same in your shoes.” She remained silent for a time. “At the time anyway.”
He gave her a weird look, but didn’t say anything.
“It’s going to take a while to get there,” Syntax warned.
“I don’t mind.” Royal looked up at the night sky. Twilight had just left, but there was still a little bit light left in the air from the residue of the sun.
“...I don’t speak very much.”
“Huh?”
“...” Royal looked towards the ground and huffed. “...I don’t speak very much. But you keep talking.”
Syntax blinked a few times, and flipped her mane as she shifted her gaze in a small amount of frustration. “What are you trying to say?”
Royal chuckled darkly. “I don’t know. I guess I’m trying to say it doesn’t matter what we’re doing, as long as we’re both here.” He sighed. “It’s hard to find the words.”
“Hmm.” Syntax couldn’t quite say she understood, but she could sympathize with his confusion. “Would you say that you’re lonely?”
There was a long pause. “I... suppose. Being alone wasn’t a choice. It was a necessity. Having those I would call my friends is more comforting than I would have thought.”
Syntax felt some of her musings come back to her, and she bit her lip in anxiousness. “Do you think of me as a friend?”
“I want to.” Royal stopped, and she stopped in kind. “I really want to. I don’t think you would let me, though.”
“Hmm.”
They started walking again. They didn’t talk much.
“So why are we here?” Syntax pouted. “It took a frickin hour and a half to get here.”
Royal walked in front, and approached the lake. After staring at it for a solid minute, he sat and looked at the water.
When he didn’t say anything, she approached him from behind and leaned into his ear. “I hope you didn’t just bring me here for sex at the lake.”
She jumped when he suddenly turned around and had a giant uncharacteristic beam on his face.
“It wasn’t about the lake.” He said with his smile.
“Then what...?” she started but never finished.
“Come with me.” His smile disappeared and he got up and walked in a seemingly random direction. She hesitated, but followed.
They walked for a while, the leaves and trees seeming to wrap around them as the forest got thicker and denser. The black slowly swallowed them, and Syntax began to become uneasy after ten or so minutes.
“Uhh, Bats?”
“We’re here.”
Syntax entered the clearing that Royal walked through, and was confused to no longer feel grass tickle her legs. It was... terraformed? Far from the beaten path, Royal had made a home for himself. A large hollowed out tree with giant leaves taken from the local flora made a sort of makeshift shelter, and a stray log and a pile of very soft looking dry leaves looked like places to comfortably sit at. “Welcome to my humble abode.” Royal kicked a few leaves aside. “Emphasis on ‘humble’.”
“Royal..” she breathed, looking inside the shelter. “You live here?”
“Not really,” he admitted. “I usually just sleep wherever. This a ‘base’ of sorts when I can’t find any shelter or food.”
“Celestia...” She exhaled in shock. “I... I believed you when you said you lived out in the wilderness but I guess I never really understood until now.”
“Well, I didn’t bring you all the way out here to show you this.” He nodded towards another path opposite the way they came in. She walked alongside him as they approached another clearing.
There was a row of around six mounds stretching about ten steps each in the center of the clearing, with small green sprouts, trees, and branches emerging every two steps. Some of them had pitiful little fruits hanging from them, nowhere near ripe. Syntax blinked.
“You have a garden,” she said aloud, not really believing it.
“Yes. I told you as much.” He approached a large rusted and beaten pot and slung it over his shoulder. He walked up to his garden and very carefully started to water the crops, adding only a practiced amount to them. “It was very difficult figuring this out on my own.”
“How did you even...?” She got up to his side and awaited his answer.
“Had a gardening book for children. I lost it a while ago. It used very basic language and obviously didn’t get into detailed instructions, but i figured out what I could.” He shrugged. “I’ve only been able to be consistent with my performance since around two years ago. It’s a lifesaver sometimes.”
“I’ll bet.” She looked around and furrowed her brow. “Is this the reason you brought me out here?”
“Yes.” He bit his cheek. “Well, half. Here.” He motioned towards a branch that was sticking out of the ground. “You know what this is?”
“A... branch?” she guessed, shrugging.
“It’s a vine. Not a branch,” he explained. “A tomato vine.”
Instantly her face became red. She couldn’t figure out why her reaction was so extreme, but alas, there she was. “Oh.”
“They’re yours, if you want them.” He looked at her, with his usual blank stare. Except... maybe it wasn’t blank. Maybe it was sincere. There was a small difference between this face and the one he used when he teased her. “I’ll grow them for you.”
She cleared her throat, and her voice cracked and whispered as she did so. Her heart was in her throat. “Yeah? That... that’d be nice.”
He smirked at her, and walked away from the garden, dropping the rusted pot and collapsing onto his back. Syntax blinked a few times from the sudden change in temperament. After staring at him for a few seconds, she approached him and sat down next to him. He was staring at the moon.
“You uhh, alright?”
After a few seconds, he nodded sagely. “Yes, Miss Syntax. Sorry. I’ve been exhausted recently. I’m usually not up during the day, until we started our interviews.”
“Right, you’re nocturnal,” she stated, remembering back to the biology session. She looked over him, completely sprawled out like a tuckered out colt. “You look silly.”
“I’m a silly guy,” he quipped.
“You’re like, the antithesis of a silly guy.”
“Antithesis? Never heard of that word.” He hummed, and licked his lips. “Root word is thesis. An idea that desires to be proven. Anti-thesis...?”
“Well, what would the context suggest?” she helped out, folding her legs in and laying on her side, facing Royal.
“The opposite,” he answered immediately. “But such a fancy word can’t have such a drab meaning.”
“Well it does.” She drew in the ground with her hoof. “Something complex and graceful on the surface could be blunt and simple in the center.” She stared at the side of his head. “And something plain and primitive on the surface can be beautiful and wonderful in the center.”
He looked at her with one eye, not facing away from the moon, and arched the brow of the eye looking at her. “That was random. Any hidden meaning behind all that?”
She leaned on her elbow and stretched her lower body out. She smugly smiled, her sultry side showing. “I don’t know. If anyone could find out it's you.”
His brow furrowed, and he looked back up at the moon. Syntax followed his lead and faced the moon as well. “Maybe I could,” he commented. The sky was remarkably clear this night, only a few clouds in sight, and the moon seemed... bigger than usual? Syntax never really took notice before, so she really couldn’t tell. “Miss Syntax?” he asked
“Hmm?”
“You think I could watch a movie ever?”
“Probably eventually. Maybe not soon. Maybe you could get a projector when becomes more common.”
“Miss Syntax?” he repeated
“Hmm?”
“Would you watch a movie with me?”
“Uhh... yeah?” she reluctantly agreed. “Why not?”
“I want to watch a movie with you. Maybe the first movie I watch.”
Syntax felt that familiar energy course through her body. “...Sure. But, why not Sketch or Trust?”
“I don’t know. Sketch is a great colt, and Trust is such a free spirit. But something about you, I’d rather have with me.” He laughed. “You’ve got something even Sketch doesn’t have. You make it easier to talk. I suppose that’s your job.”
“It is,” she agreed. “Hey, how did you find out where I live?”
“I had Trust look for you since she knew her way around town. She called you her ‘project’. Once she tracked you down, she just told me where you were.”
“Funny.” Syntax’s eyes were growing heavy. She decided she should start moving before her eyes got too heavy to walk back to her home. “All right. This was fun, Bats, but I got to get going home.”
He turned away. “Is that right?”
“That’s right.” As she got up and brushed herself off, she began to remember the events of the skytram incident. She imagined how her feelings might of changed if Royal was the one to save her off of the falling tram instead of Trust. Would it have been easier to do all of this, or harder? No matter how sure of herself she was as a reporter, it was clear that her personal attitude was still an enigma to even herself. Especially herself. Hell, Sketch knew more about her than she did.
Speaking of the tram, though... “Walk a girl home?”
He got up and slowly walked towards her. He nodded, face blank. Face sincere.
“Alright.”
It wasn’t long before they were passing by that lake once again. She gave one, longing look at it. There were memories here. Pleasant ones. Painful ones. She wished what she had told Sketch was a complete lie, about her history with the lake, but reality had other things to say. They got back to the tram landing, which was already up and running like new. It was too late for anypony to be using it, so Royal remained at her side the whole way. They got to the crash site, the tram cleaned up but the broken tree still sitting splintered. She looked up at the misshapen tree, remembering the terrifying moments spent hanging from Sketch’s hooves. She had really been prepared to die that night.
She looked towards Royal, who seemed to reminiscing as well.
Maybe it would have been better for everyone if she had...
“Ouch!” Syntax retracted her hoof from the sudden pain she felt. It seemed she stepped on something bulky. She looked down and saw... “Is this Sketch’s drawing pad?”
“Really?” Royal asked from behind.
“Yeah. He had this on the night of the incident. He must have forgotten about it as it fell from the tram.” She picked it up and began flipping through it.
“I don’t think he’d like you going through it...”
“Oh hush, I know you’d want to see it too.” After flipping through high quality but otherwise unremarkable sketches, she slowed down once she got to the good stuff. Sketches of Trust in various poses, each getting more suggestive than the last. He really hadn’t been lying that there were sketches of his marefriend in here. “Ooh la la.”
Royal’s ears had perked up, and when Trust’s semi-erotic positions became impossible to explain away as innocent poses, he turned away for sake of modesty.
“Wow, some of these are like three lines away from being super nasty.” She snickered, going through the last few pages.
“Miss Syntax, please.” Royal actually started to sound flustered. “This is invasive.”
“Oh nonsense. None of these are actually explicit.” She widened her eyes once she got to a certain page. “Hey, look, there’s you!”
He didn’t bother looking particularly hard. “Yes I know. I modeled for it.”
“Sketchy knows how to model ponies,” she complimented. “Hmm. You look really good in this.”
“A photo would have been easier.”
“Still on that?” she laughed. “You know, there’s some merit to-” Syntax dropped the pad and gasped in abject astonishment when she saw something she had passed over before. “Oh Celestia.”
Royal placed a hoof on her shoulder. “You alright?”
“This is me,” she said. “This is...”
He looked at the drawing pad on the ground, opened to a page of a close-up of Syntax’s face, beaming a heartfelt smile. Not one of her usual smug smiles, or sultry ones, but an innocent, warm smile. It was a simple piece, but in some bizarre way, it didn’t look like Syntax at all.
She was smiling with no mask. No pretense. No scheming. No plans.
It was a smile she hadn’t worn for at least a decade, and it had caught her off guard. “Why would he draw this?”
“He likes you?” Royal offered. “Sketch likes everyone.”
“No, but I mean...” She trailed off, unsure of how to finish. “I just... don’t look like this.”
“Maybe that’s the way he sees you.” Royal picked up the drawing pad to take a closer look. “Maybe it’s the way he wants to see you.”
“Well he isn’t going to anytime soon.” Her legs were weak, and she felt another churning in her stomach. Looking at herself like this made her sick. It was an idealistic lie; she could never look like this no matter how hard she tried.
“It’s good,” he confided. “But it’s missing something.”
Syntax arched her brow and turned towards Royal. Why? This was her ideal look.
He suddenly smushed his hoof up against her face, and she waved her hooves in front of her at a pathetic attempt at self defense. “What the hell?!”
When she regained her hoofing, she snarled at Royal, who was measurably clearer than he usually was, which was an odd adjective to describe him as. “What the-” she reached towards her face and felt her thick-rimmed glasses sitting proudly on her face. She immediately began to blush. “When did...?”
“I saw them on the counter when we were leaving. I snatched them before we exited.”
“Why?” she asked, puzzled.
“These help you see better, correct?” He didn’t allow her to answer before he continued. “They’re a part of you. I wanted to see what you’d like with them on.”
“They’re not a part of me,” she angrily corrected. She wiped the glasses off of her and bit her lower lip. He frowned in response.
“A shame. I thought they looked great on you.” He instantly walked away after that, motioning her to follow. She furrowed her brow and looked at the glasses in her hooves. Well she didn’t have a bag on her, and she wasn’t going to risk damaging them by carrying them with Sketch’s drawing pad, so she reluctantly placed them back on her face. She could probably put them on her mane like a headband, but she stopped caring at that point. She eyed Royal at the back of his head as she caught up. She couldn’t read him like everypony else. But she didn’t need to. His motivations and morals were clear.
He glanced back at her, noticed she was wearing the glasses again, and faced forward, not saying a word. After quite a few steps of silence, Syntax was once again the one to break it. “You mentioned music.”
He looked at her and arched his brow in reply.
“I thought it was a little odd. When you were asking about my tape recorder, you asked about music. When you were asking about sound in films, you mentioned music. I gather it’s something you care about.”
“Hmmph,” he grunted. “Yes. I like music. If we’re talking about preferences.”
She really should have her tape recorder here but... well it doesn’t matter. “Oh yeah? What kind?”
“All kinds. Haven’t heard a lot music. Savor it every chance I get. I don’t know a lot about genres other than they exist.”
“Okay.” She shrugged. “What’s your favorite?”
“Well, I only know one.” He shook his head. “Everything else was just fleeting sound drifting along the wind. I heard one song over and over again at the college, one of... her favorite songs. She listened to it enough that I memorized the lyrics.”
“Oh,” she replied sadly. “If you don’t want to talk about it...”
“...No it’s fine. It’s a good memory.” He sighed. “Scarborough Fair.”
“Scarborough Fair?” She tapped her chin. “I think I know that song. Old folk song, right?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know the lyrics.”
“Sing ‘em.”
It was his turn to blink in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Sing the song.” She began elbowing him in the ribs, and he tensed up, unsure how to react. “C’mon. No one’s around, it’s just me an’ you.”
“I...” He looked away and cleared his throat. “I’ve sang even less than I have spoken.”
“So? You’ve got a good natural voice, your singing can’t be terrible.”
He just stared at her for a few seconds, looked at the ground, and closed his eyes.
He started quietly at first. After a few whispers to himself, he slowly began.
“Are you going to Scarborough Fair?” His voice was a slight wheeze, as his tones barely scraped the atmosphere around him. The smile Syntax wasn’t aware she was wearing slowly melted away as Royal’s honestly astounding deep, milky voice graced her ears.
His second verse was more confident. “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme...” When he sang the word ‘thyme’, he vocalized the word in an exaggerated manner, sprinkling flavor on it in an extremely pleasant way.
“Remember meeee.... To the one who lives there.
“Who once was a true love of mine.
“Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
“Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Time.
“Without no seams or needlework
“Then she’ll be a true love of mine.”
He opened his eyes and panickedly glanced towards Syntax. “Yeah that’s... it.”
“No, no no, keep singing.” She put a supportive hoof on his shoulder. He looked up, with his ears perking. “You’re really good at it.”
He looked away and kicked his hoof, his half lidded gaze more sad than usual. When he didn’t reply, Syntax chuckled. “Listen, I’ll sing the next part.”
“Tell him to buy me an acre of land,” she picked up, shutting her eyes and countering Royal’s more bass tones with a higher pitched melody. Her pipes were no slouch, but a professional she was not, definitely not as good as Royal. His eyes shot open in astonishment as she continued.
“Parsely, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme.
“Between the salt water and the trees there,
“Then he’ll be a true love of mine...” As she finished, she grinned wildly and jerked her head towards Royal. He stammered (for the first time in a while, if not ever) and went back on track in his head as he looked around for solutions to a problem that wasn’t there.
“T-tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather
“Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme.” Just when Royal was regaining his confidence, Syntax hooked her leg around his neck and rose the other to the sky, beaming to the moon and dueting with the batstallion in unison.
”And gather it all in a bunch of heather!
“Then!”
“She’ll be~!”
“He’ll be~!”
“A~ True~ Love~ of miiiiiiiiiine~!” They both broke down in laughter, collapsing onto each other, taking hysterical breaths. Royal wiped a tear away, giggling.
“I don’t know why you went for the big duet finish, there was one more chorus before the end of the song.” His voice was a higher pitch on account of all the laughter, and he had to clear his throat to correct it. That familiar energy shot through Syntax, but it was clearer this time, and traveled through her body easier, like a gas instead of a liquid.
“Hahaha! We’re idiots,” she said under her breath. They cleared their throats and sighed, and looked at each other in the eye for a few seconds. Syntax hmmed and smirked. “You should laugh more often. You wear it well.”
“I’ll laugh more if you wear those glasses and wash the dye out your hair.”
“Oh, that’s good. You’re good at that.” She unhooked her foreleg and exhaled. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”
They started walking again, with a notable pep to their stride now. Despite the energy, she felt herself yawn and a tear fall down her cheek.
“Tired?” Royal asked.
“Yeah. Always.” She rubbed her shoulders.
“Well, now you just sound like Sketch.”
“Oh no, that’s terrible,” she deadpanned with a nasal drone. “Sketch has trouble sleeping, doesn’t he?”
“Trust said he has insomnia,” he confided.
“Thought as much.”
“Do you have that too?”
“I wish I had a medical condition to excuse it.” She shook her head. “No. It’s just hard to sleep sometimes.”
“This is going to sound asinine, but...” He pursed his lips. “Anything I can do to help?”
Yes, absolutely, the trashy ‘romance’ novel in her mind said. Aloud, she sighed. “No, Royal. That’s sweet, but it’s not that easy.”
“Well, it should be.” He looked towards the sky again. “Life should be easy.”
Syntax grunted but didn’t say anything. Did what he say count as idealism? Saying that life should be ideal? She yawned again.
“It’s going to take a while to get back up there,” Royal pointed out.
Yawning, under her breath, she nodded. “I know.”
“I know a faster way up,” he said.
“I’m not taking the TRAM!” Syntax yelped when she suddenly felt her body being lifted up. “What are you doing, put me down!” She was already in the air when she voiced her protests. His forelegs were draped around her chest, leaving her lower body hanging. He stopped ascending when she complained.
“What’s wrong?”
“Don’t, I’m...” She squeezed her eyes shut, but that made her fear worse. “I’m afraid of heights!”
“Oh?” Royal began to manipulate her in the air and she squeaked with every ounce of pressure involved in making her flip around so she faced Royal. His face and hair silhouetted itself behind the moon. He was smirking whilst looking down at her. His chest was pressed up against hers and she lost the ability to speak. “Then don’t look down,” he said. She felt all of her organs nearly leave her body behind as they suddenly took to the skies. She screamed, wrapped her forelegs around his waist, and squeezed.
“Nonononononono! J-just put me down, I don’t- this is-!”
“Shh.” He flatly commanded. For some reason she obeyed, not really able to think clearly. She pressed her face against his chest, tears soaking into his fur. “Just focus on something else. Stop thinking. Try to feel.”
“I-I...” She shut her eyes even harder, and pressed her face up against his chest even harder, to the point where it became difficult to breathe. She tried to think of pleasant things. That was very limited in her line of work, and what she could think of was being threatened by her own ambitions. She tried to think of mundane things, but the second she felt the flap of Royal’s wings when he climbed in altitude, she went straight back to panicking.
She thought back to what he said.
ba-thump
Don’t think. Feel.
ba-thump
She focused on that sound.
ba-thump
And she began to count the beats. She concentrated on syncing her breathing to the beats.
ba-thump
Inhale, exhale
There were sudden vibrations in his chest, the feeling of speech. “Are you doing alright?”
“Mhmm,” she mumbled into his chest. “Don’t talk.”
There was a brief silence, followed by a single-heave chuckle. “Okay.”
Eventually, after a few minutes of counting pulses, she braved to catch a glimpse of the outside. She dare not attempt to look at the ground, but was content and watching the clouds pass by. Her eyes were unpleasantly crusty from the few fear-tears she had shed, so she blinked away the moisture as best as she could. When that proved unfruitful, she instead smothered her face against Royal’s chest to clean her eyes. She could have sworn the consistent beat of his heart skipped a little as she did. She separated again, more comfortable now, and looked around. They must have been high up, as the air was thin and cold, but all of her fear had been left behind. Her fear of heights was irrational, so there was no hope for a cure. But a method of coping was nice. She looked up, and awkwardly met Royal’s eyes. They both turned away as fast as possible. “H-hey, watch where you’re going.”
“Yes, Miss Syntax.”
She felt blood rush to her cheeks. Normally that wouldn’t get her so flustered, but something about him being pressed up so hard against her on top that made the situation just a little bit more scandalous.
“Flying’s nice I guess.”
“Yes?” he replied in rhetoric.
“Yeah, maybe when all this blows over I’ll hire you as my chauffeur.” She chuckled weakly. “It’d be really useful for my work.”
“What would you pay me in?” he quipped. “Tomatoes?”
“Hey, it’s more likely than you think.” She hummed in thought. “You have a point though. Not like you could use money... and I’m an average cook at best.” She began to make the motions of tapping her chin, but realized her lack of available motor control in her current position. “Room and board?”
“What like, I live with you?” There was that same heart beat skip. She was just going to pretend it didn’t happen.
“Easy, there, tiger. Maybe I’d just pay for a cheap apartment.” She winked. “Maybe not.”
He smirked and transferred his attention back to the skies. “I’ll think about it. We’re here.”
Syntax yipped as he flipped her back over, and they were low enough to the ground for her not to be afraid. They touched down gently onto the roof of her apartment, and Royal landed in front of her whilst rotating mid-air. “I suppose this is it.”
“Until tomorrow,” she assured.
“Yes.” He looked around, and grunted. “You know, you messed up a verse of Scarborough Fair.”
“What?” That was random. “Which one?”
“You said, ‘and the trees there’. It’s supposed to be ‘and the sea strand’. It rhymes with land.” He scratched his mane. “I don’t really care, but I don’t think I should leave without saying.”
She chuckled. “Weird note to leave off of.”
“Eh,” he dismissed. “We’re weird ponies.”
“I agree,” she agreed. They stared at each other for a few seconds, before Syntax coughed into her hoof.
“I guess I should get going.”
Everything in her body told her to say ‘no’. They could talk more. Do more interviews, maybe grab a bite to eat. But the day had ended. This artificial friendship was over for the night. Why did it feel so real?
“I guess you should.”
Syntax poured a glass of whisky for herself. She looked at the second glass she had pulled out by habit, and frowned. The company was nice. It would be nicer if he didn’t have to leave.
There was an obvious solution to this problem, and that’s why she had resorted to the drink. She was slowly finding less and less reasons to not allow it. Or maybe she had less and less will to look for excuses.
Oh no he’s a bat! Who the fuck cares? Sketch doesn’t. Why would she?
She took a swig.
She can’t sleep with him because it would be unethical. She was going to ruin his life. Except he didn’t have a life to ruin unlike Sketch and Trust. He was isolated from society and probably won’t care that society is against him.
She can’t sleep with him because they’re just friends! A weak excuse used in the basest of novels.
She can’t sleep with him because they barely knew each other! It’s only been about a week! Except They’ve been doing hours long interviews and hanging out for hours afterwards, which was much longer than a normal pony’s dates, and it didn’t take much for a couple to sleep together.
She can’t sleep with him because she doesn’t care about him that way! She doesn’t want to lead him on just because he’s attractive! That’s cruel! Except...
Well it’s never stopped her before.
What was she doing? She had this happen before: Interview a hot guy and totally go head over hooves for them. Was she really that weak? Or had Sketch really chipped that much away from her defenses? If she didn’t know any better, she’d suspect they’d planned this.
She took another swig.
She kept hoping that when she turned around, she’d see Royal standing behind her.
Of course if it really happened, she’d probably jump out of her skin.
She took another swig.
Maybe she’d be able to sleep tonight... but something told her she’d be a bit restless.
Stats
Page generated in 0.032 seconds
Total duration
1,066 users online
1,846,626 hits today, 2,167,270 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
8148673 JESUS CHRIST I DIDN'T KNOW YOU COULD DO THAT
So Sketch X Trust
Now Syntax X Royal
Why do fictional characters find love so easily?
8151181 because Syntax is Sketch’s literary foil and Royal is Trust’s literary foil ;D
It's called a b couple, and it's thematically significant. Sketch and Syntax have parallel conflicts, with Sketch lying to often that he makes situations worse and Syntax too focused on the truth that it's corrupted her perception of it.
Trust and Royal are faced with the same conflict but cope with them in different ways.
I know I'm probably not supposed to talk about this as an author but whatevs
Edit: Also it's really cute
8151804 Whatever man, just get the next chapter up so I can enjoy more of this wonderful delightful story.
Love the chapter
This. Needs. An. Illustration.
So cute!