4. Loud and Dirty
“Music gives color to the air of the moment.”
― Karl Lagerfeld
Sketch woke in the most fabulous manner, drowning in crisp white sheets and sinking in the softest fabrics. He found himself to be very well rested, a feeling he was a stranger to for the most part, thanks to the insomnia. As he inhaled, he stretched out his limbs, savoring the refreshing subtle cracks of his joints extending to their apex. He's never had better sleep in his life, and he wasn't about to take that for granted. He decided to stay in bed a bit more. It occurred to him that his bed wasn't this comfortable from memory, but he dismissed this and decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. There was small displacement in the sheets, so he rolled over to the side to take care of it. Satisfied, he finally rested his foreleg at his side, only for it to meet some kind of resistance.
That was strange. Up until now, everything was perfect, not one thing out of place save a pillow or two, and that added to the comfort. So why this alien object? Was it there to make this even better? Perhaps it was a backscratcher, or a massager. Eager to find out, Sketch lazily opened his eyes and slowly shifted over to the source of the disturbance. He moved a pillow out of his way and positioned himself for a better vantage. What he saw... didn’t really sit well with him.
At first, it was difficult to identify this foreign entity. It was sorta the same color of the bed, bar a few details. But it changed colors into some type of brown about of a third of the way down. Plus it had some oddly placed outstanding colors positioned in chaotic but somehow symmetrical locations. It was about as large as him, maybe just a little bigger. And it had this subtle movement to it that made it look almost alive.
That’s when it hit him. It was alive.
It was laying next to him, fast asleep.
It was a griffin.
It was female.
She was happy.
She was...
“Mornin’, kid.” Haren said, weakly opening one eye, smiling softly. “Would you mind not moving around so much? I’m still tired.”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUU-”
“HHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGHHGGGHUHGH!” Sketch jolted up from his bed with lightning speed, mouth agape, eyes wide open. Had there been a fly in the room, this was the apt time lodge itself in his throat. His scream had taken his breath away, and he quickly worked to resolve that; his chest heaved with bated breaths. It took all his power not to vomit right into his lap. His bed was wet with his sweat already, he didn’t need vomit to stew itself along with his body.
He noticed his mom was standing next to him, a pail of water in her mouth. She stared at him with a startled expression, then, after a few awkward moments, quickly set the pail on her back, hiding it from Sketch’s view. She took some slow steps back with a wide, sheepish grin until she was all the way out, and then retreated downstairs.
It took Sketch a few moments to deduce what she had been planning, and then a few more moments to realize he didn’t care. Exhausted and spent, he sighed and fell back into his flat, sweat-soaked pillow.
He couldn’t take the picture of Haren’s cute, flirty face out of his mind. He slammed his hoof against his forehead in frustration. “Damn it all.”
School was school. With what happened that other day now out of the way, it went by just like normal. In fact, his history teacher kind of went easier on him now, for some reason. Maybe there was some level of respect between the two now. Maybe he took what Sketch told him to heart. He wouldn’t be able to figure it out, so Sketch just dropped it from his mind.
Art class was another thing, however. Miss Conté, being the vixen that she is, couldn’t resist to prod and pry as much as she could. She physically poked him a times, taunting him with little songs. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, just tell me~” She’d twist her head around until she had an upside-down profile of Sketch’s face. “How’d you get away scott free like that? I was never able to do that kind of stuff when I was in school!”
It would have been easy for Sketch to tell her about what Haren did, but it was entertaining to see her like this, not to mention kind of cute. She pouted and huffed when Sketch left the class only winking and not saying another word. No wonder her and Trust did that kind of stuff; it was fun.
So other than a few kinks, it was just a normal day... until he started to walk home did things get interesting.
Immediately after rounding a corner of an alleyway, he had bumped into somepony. This somepony was large, and male. Sketch recovered and apologized.
“Sorry, my fault.” Sketch dusted himself off and looked up at the stallion. He was... “Anthem?”
“Hey, kid!”
“What-” Sketch nervously looked behind himself and pushed Anthem deeper into the alley. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Calm down, dude!” Anthem replied, a little too loudly. “I’m just here to remind you that Hearth’s Tearing’s happening tonight.”
“I know that, stupid.” Sketch punctuated his statement by jabbing him in the chest. “You didn’t have to come here to tell me that!”
“I wanted to make sure, man. It’d suck if you didn’t make it, and you’re so sporadic in your visits...” Even Anthem sounded unsure in his reasoning.
Sketch was left speechless. Who was he trying to kid? “What the heck is with you lately? Yesterday you said you were gonna get me a soda and then handed me a syringe. What was that syringe for, anyway?”
“Uhh, basting?”
Sketch shot him a skeptical look while Anthem rubbed the back of his head. He sighed, probably figuring out he was just too bad at lying to friends. “Okay, Sketchy, okay. Truth is... I just... I wanted an excuse to leave for a couple minutes.”
Woah. That sounded sad. Anthem’s never sad. “Why?”
“I... uhh... look, I’ll tell you later, Sketchy. But look, I really did want to remind you about tonight. You and your lady friend cool?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, we’re cool, we’re cool. Just...” Sketch decided it was time to honest to him, if a little purposefully vague. “Truth is... I’m really nervous, cause I don’t know how she’s gonna take it. She’s just... in a really unique situation, one that wouldn’t allow her to do stuff like this normally. She needs our help to pull through, know what I mean?”
Anthem’s confused reaction is just what he was looking for. It was a good thing Anthem was dense as hell, otherwise he would be able to snuff out just what Sketch was talking about when he saw Trust. Anyone else would be able to connect the dots, but Anthem wouldn’t even be able to find a pencil. “I guess?” Anthem scratched his head again which made Sketch wonder if he had some lice or something. “...Well, I gotta bounce, kid. I think it’s been long enough. See ya later.”
“Wait, you don’t wanna get something to eat first?” Sketch realized that the both of them haven’t really hung out outside of his apartment.
“Nah, Haren is uhh,” Anthem scratched his head again, closing one eye as he did so. “Gonna cook me something...” He left without another word, leaving Sketch puzzled.
BLAMF!
“SHIT!”
Sketch flung his pencil in the air in fright from the sudden crashing noise and curse. After checking to make sure his heart hadn’t stopped, he raced to the source of the disturbance: his lone window. He slid it open and looked down to see Trust hanging from the small balcony it harbored. Sketch immediately threw himself out and began to help Trust up, aiding them with his magic. “It’d be really awesome if you didn’t wake the entire continent up when we’re about to sneak out,” Sketch groaned in a whisper as he helped Trust in.
“What’s this ‘we’ crap? I’m not gonna get spanked by mommy if I get found out!”
“Don’t be a bitch, Trust,” Sketch commented lightheartedly while checking her body for injuries (with a little admiration).
“I’ll stop being a bitch when you start opening the damned window when you know I’m coming.” Trust spat, folding her forelegs in a pout.
“To your credit, you usually slow down to make sure you don’t hit glass at terminal velocity.” He folded his forelegs in mockery of her. “What’s up with you?”
“Don’t ask that like I’m not nervous as hell!” Her pout was replaced with a nervous glare to the side, eyeing some of the new art Sketch was working on. “I’m beginning to think this whole idea belongs in the friggin’ toilet.”
“C’mon, Trust, you can trust me.”
Trust incredulously glared at him, tightening her folded forelegs. Sketch chuckled.
“Sorry, bad choice of words.”
“Who’s gonna buy this ‘costume’ bologna?” She tugged on her own wing with her teeth, confirming that it didn’t taste or feel like cheap cardboard. She stuck out her tongue in disgust.
“Anthem’s going to, definitely. Haren on the other hoof...” Sketch hadn’t actually thought of that. It was clear that Haren was hiding her intelligence, and that she was in fact very bright. She was also perceptive, which could prove to be an issue. “She won’t be a problem as long as we don’t give her the chance to ask any questions. She’s a friend, it’ll be fine.”
“Whatever,” she spouted, her expression becoming darker. She always did that whenever he mentioned Haren.
"Look, I'm aware you're worried."
"Ya think?" She quipped, not ready to make light of the situation.
"But I've got it under control." Trying to instill some confidence, Sketch beamed with confidence of his own. "C'mon, Trust, when have I ever let you down?"
She eyed him with interest and her face contorted with thought. It looked like she realized the answer was 'never'. She smiled meekly.
"See?" Sketch danced around on his hooves nervously for a bit and then reached around her neck to give her a hug. She was surprised at first, but then slowly returned the favor. "We'll get through this, I promise. And you'll love it."
They separated, and Trust had difficulty looking him in the eye. She suddenly groaned loudly, likely growing tired of the tension. “Ugh, fine. It’s my funeral.”
“And spare no expense for it.” Sketch brushed off his shoulder (without really knowing why) and stepped up to his window. Thinking about it now, that window has seen a lot of traffic lately, and he was about to become part of it’s commute. Taking a deep breath, he opened the window and braced himself for the sudden rush of cold wind. Hopefully he wouldn’t get a cold at the end of this.
“Need any help?”
“No, I’ve done this before.” Sketch grinned.
Trust burst into a large guffaw, rivaling that of Sketch’s principal. “Really? You’ve snuck out of your parent’s house before, bad boy?”
Sketch stopped halfway through the window and looked back at her. “Yeah. When I couldn’t sleep when I was a kid, I’d take a walk in the dark.”
“Wow... I probably saw you at one point if you did that.” She slammed one hoof into her other. “Small world.”
“I guess.” Sketch lowered himself onto the first rung of the odd external decorations that he used as a makeshift ladder. His limbs shook as he struggled to keep his balance on the way down.
“Of course, I haven’t done this in a few years.” His hoof slipped off a particularly curvy protrusion.
“Shit!” His body began to fall backwards, closer to the ground.
He didn't have a chance to decipher the feeling of falling before his body stopped cold in midair. The strain on his hair and neck were suddenly apparent. It took him some effort to lift his head and see what caught him so quickly, but he had the faint idea Trust was his saviour. He looked up and found Trust’s face completely occupying his view, since she had to completely envelop him in her arms in order to keep him from falling.
It took a while for Sketch to notice the fact she appeared very annoyed. “You’ve done this before, huh?”
“Heh,” was all he managed before Trust tossed him to the ground from a safe height.
“C’mon Sketchy,” she moaned, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just get this over with already.”
“Well we’re not gonna have any fun with that attitude,” he bantered, dusting himself off.
“I doubt we’re gonna have any fun at all.”
“Okay, Trust, just act natural.” The door resonated at the contact of Sketch’s hoof. Trust marvelled a bit at Anthem’s apartment. It was more humble than anything she had seen around Canterlot for the most part. The town favored extravagance and unnecessary pizazz for just about everything in the entire city. It was hard to imagine that the stuck up community would be okay with some standard looking apartments anywhere within the city.
“Wonderful advice, Sketch, just, A plus.”
At that, the door opened, revealing a slightly disheveled Anthem. He had to focus on the two of them for a couple seconds before realizing what was going on. “O-oh! Sketch, you’re here.”
“Yeah,” he replied flatly, shuffling. “Yeah I am.”
“And uh, this is your friend you said so much about.” He gave Trust a once over, making Sketch a little uneasy. He was hoping that Anthem got the hint to not try any of his crap when he spoke of Trust the first time. “You are...?”
“Trust... and you?”
The comfort that Trust showed gave Sketch pause. He had expected her to be a lot shyer, maybe even going as far as to not speak. But then he remembered when they had first met and how well she interacted with him and he realized that maybe this would be a lot easier than he thought. She was even smiling....
Ech.
“Anthem. I’m sure Sketch has told you all about me.”
“Nope,” Trust stated matter-of-factly, rudely pushing past him and heading inside. Anthem was too taken aback to protest. It took all of Sketch’s strength to not laugh in Anthem’s face.
Sketch took a moment to himself to wonder why he was afraid Trust couldn’t handle this. When they first met, she showed a sort of confidence only shown by the bravest, and now was no different. Perhaps Sketch wanted for her to be shy and broken, so that he’d be able to fix her. No, that didn’t make much sense. Maybe he just wanted to be special...
“And... Haren, I believe?” Trust asked to the corner of the room. The griffin in question must have took this as a challenge, as she puffed out her chest and straightened out in order to appear taller. Sketch began to wonder if he’ll ever understand griffins...
Haren wore a different style than the day before, a fact that had become common for her since Sketch had known her. The feathers adorning her head were exceptionally curled except for the tips, where they curved inwards. They were split in a way that only left one eye unobscured, and one last feather, bigger than all the others, stuck up and to the side, forming the appearance of a cowilick that a pony would wear. All her piercings were in their normal places. “You believe correctly, Lady Trust.” She inspected Trust thoroughly, not bound by the social bondage of gender. “Nice costume,” she surmised.
“Thanks.” Trust smiled. “You too,” she quipped.
Sketch flinched. Did she really just say that?! No way she doesn’t know that it’s not a costume. He glanced at Trust, who held a burning glare for a very smug Haren. She knew.
There was a heavy silence that nearly broke some of Sketch’s bones, before it was lifted by a hearty chortle from Haren. “Ha! When Sketch told me about you, you weren’t at all what I expected.”
Trust looked back at Sketch with scrutiny. “I would hope so.”
Wait, now I’m her target? Sketch sighed, just glad that things miraculously hadn’t gone horribly wrong yet. There was so many ways this could just crash and burn, and they were dodging bolts without much space to spare. But this wasn’t just a fluke; Haren wasn’t stupid. Quite the contrary in fact. It was clear after the past few weeks that she was hiding her true intelligence, despite already appearing smart. No doubt she knew something was up, and she’d be able to find out just what had she the opportunity to ask a couple hard questions. But Sketch believe she chose to back off, for his sake. That was the only explanation for her restraint. Sketch decided to count his chickens only after they hatched, and keep it this way.
“So Trust,” Anthem sounded from the front door, having finally recovered from Trust’s smooth rejection. Sketch wondered if he had worked out the fact she was just kidding around; Sketch had told her about Anthem. Granted there wasn’t much to the guy other than he was awesome, but dense. “Have you ever been to party like this before?”
“Outside of my pants? No.”
“Hehe, well. It’s going to be pretty rough. Don’t worry, it’s nothing like some other... ‘parties’.” The air quotes around ‘party’ implied some disgust he shared for the hardcore scene. “But it ain’t gonna be no walk in the park either. You think you’re ready?”
“Don’t worry about her,” Sketch chimed in, much to everyone’s surprise. “She definitely has the constitution.” Indeed, she did. But that wasn’t the problem, it was personal interaction. “She’s been through a lot.”
Trust took a moment to smile at Sketch as thanks for the compliment.
“If you say so Sketchy.” Haren shrugged. Trust visibly convulsed at the use of Sketch’s nickname. She didn’t know it wasn’t exclusively hers anymore. Come to think of it, how the hell did that catch on? He would have to talk to her about this later... but, why? Why does she care so much? Sigh. Mares. “If either of you O.D. I aint calling the cops,” Haren finally noted.
“We wouldn’t be in any position to anyway,” Sketch whined, rolling his eyes.
“Hey, take it from me. You don’t need to consciously KNOW that you’re ingesting strange stuff,” Anthem chuckled, elbowing Trust dangerously close to her batwing. On the way over to Anthem’s, he had laid out some ground rules about her ‘costume’. She couldn’t decidedly move her wings at all, and she’d have to look away if she ate something. Also, she would have to make some effort not to get in any situations that’d put her disguise in jeopardy. Regular spy stuff.
Mmn.
Sketch’s ear picked up on some noise in the room, sounding like some sort of animalistic growl, right before it would pounce and tear a creature's throat out. It took him a while to see that it came from Haren. He compared it to a cat’s angry growl, right before the hiss. Despite the hostility of this sound, Haren looked pretty normal. She masked her anger very well. Question was, why was she angry?
Sketch shrugged it off, deciding Haren was confusing enough as she was.
“Well, we got to be going if we want to catch the concert,” Anthem stated, looking at his wrist as if there was a watch there.
“Concert?” Trust asked. Sketch was unsure whether this was simply new information for the batpony, or if she didn’t know what a concert was.
“Yeah, what’s a party without music? It’s always the best if it’s live, too. Good thing Hearth’s Tearing is popular enough that they’d bother getting a band.”
“Neato,” Haren said quickly, walking out the door. “Let’s just get going already.”
The walk was very uneventful. It was a fairly short walk to the forest cable car, a sky ride system that ran off the same principals as the tram Sketch and Trust took the other night, but Sketch still found some reason to be paranoid. There were a lot of ponies and griffins in costume on the streets for the party, so Trust blended pretty well. So the only thing left to worry about was some authority figure stopping them and asking Sketch and Trust’s age. If they got stopped, there wouldn't be much that they could do. Not only that, but Haren and Anthem would be in huge trouble with the law, especially if they thought Anthem was trying to pick up Trust. They could always lie, but Sketch was an awful liar and there was the issue of I.D.s.
Despite it all, they made it to the forest, and they were pretty much home free since anything outside the city wasn’t very cared for by Canterlot. It was almost disheartening, but Sketch didn’t want to count those chickens yet.
Anthem and Haren were ahead of Trust and Sketch and were chatting quietly yet loud enough for Sketch to hear every other word. He wasn’t paying much attention, however, since he was constantly checking on Trust who hadn’t spoken for a while.
It wasn’t until now that Sketch became fully aware just how much taller Haren was compared to all of them. Even though she was only a couple inches above Anthem, who was also tall, but she was pretty much a mile taller than Trust. Sketch guessed that Haren’s height was mostly due to her being a griffin, but he didn’t have much to compare to. There was also one other thing, Haren was swaying a bit more than usual. She always had a feline saunter to her walk, but today it was a little exaggerated, he hind following an almost rehearsed rhythm with her tail. Almost as if-
“There a reason you’re staring at Haren’s ass?” Trust asked suddenly, giving him a death stare. Sketch tripped over a conveniently placed stone and nearly impaled himself on a nearby branch sticking from the ground. He barely had the strength to steady himself as the blood rushed to his cheeks.
“I AH I-I AM NO-”
Trust shoved her hoof in his mouth before he could embarrass himself. “Calm down, dude. I’m joking. Why does it matter?”
“Because she’s a griffin!” he exclaimed, raising his hoof.
“So?”
“Eh-” Sketch tried to explain why it was wrong, but found himself at a loss for words. Why was it wrong? He was sure that there was an answer, but he couldn’t find it in the dark cloud of his thoughts. He finally settled for something. “Because it’s just rude.”
Trust processed his reason and chuckled, appearing to be satisfied with his answer. “Alright, then.”
There was no sound except for the crunching of leaves, until Sketch heard Trust snerk rather strongly. He stomped and blew out his nose. “I WASN’T STARING AT HER A-”
“Hey, small females! We’re here,” Haren interjected whilst holding her talon out towards the event. There were still a small distance from it, but from what Sketch could see in the distance were a multitude of humble tents and small vendors. There was this... aura about the place, that actually had a visible diameter around the venue. First, there was forest, natural and clean; beautiful. Then there was Hearth’s Tearing, which looked like a warzone, or something out of a reefer awareness PSA. Something that Sketch found oddly comical was that the perimeter of trash and discarded clothing pretty much made a perfect circle. It was uncanny.
"Wow..." Trust was already impressed by the sound of it, despite having nothing to go on other than the garbage on the floor.
"Trust me, girl, it gets a lot better once you get inside and get a nice proximity high." Haren chuckled, giving a little nuggie to the batpony. Sketch was a bit concerned with the distance between the two, but he was more worried about Haren getting her hooked on something.
"Haren..." Sketch warned, giving her the stink eye. Haren waved her talon dismissively.
"Yeah, yeah, nothing illegal, I get it. Narc." She stuck her tongue out at him in a small, feeble rebellion.
The place actually looked pretty official. The vendors that lined predetermined paths were evidence of that. There were equal parts funnel cake stands, beer taps, and the more shady private vendors that were obviously distributing narcotics and paraphernalia. The only thing this place was missing was a giant burning bonfire. Trust was in awe, eyeing everything with this big goofy grin on her face. It was heartwarming thing to see, Trust losing her usual composure in front of dozens.
It took a while for him to realize, but Sketch now knew why Trust acted the way she did. She presented herself in a way that was not true to the way she felt. Sure, she is witty and a bit rash at times, but she was also quite reserved in front of Sketch, curiously prodding him every chance she got with honest questions. She gave him the time of day, seriously considering anything he said to her as a truth, inquisiting every chance she got. But when around strangers, she puts up a front. She acts tougher than she believes she is. She’s impolite and short around people. She doesn’t give them a chance to open up to her so she wouldn’t have to open up herself. It was a defense mechanism, something to protect herself from getting hurt.
It was becoming all too obvious that she has not had the best experience with ponies. Sketch only hoped that she had not been through much, but in the back of his head he knew that was too much to hope for.
“Pretty great, huh?” Sketch quipped, bringing his head closer to hers.
“Yeah... it’s so much better than the frou-frou, cramped streets of Canterlot,” the bat pony breathed. She sniffed aggressively and laughed. “Aw, it smells terrific.”
It actually smelt pretty awful, like a mix of cigarette butts and fecal matter, but ignoring that, it was a refreshing change of pace from the usual perfume musk that overpowered Canterlot. He was sure Trust was being ironic, and that theory was fortified when she gave an exaggerated gag. They both shared a chuckle as they continued to walk.
“Dude, I want to get super drunk.”
Sketch simply looked at her, sure she was joking. “That’s not something that will happen.”
“Tch, Anthem’s right, you are a narc.”
“I like it when people stay alive.” Sketch rebuttled. “I am not a narc.”
“Stay alive? You don’t have much faith in me, huh?” Trust stared at him with half mast eyes, and Sketch took a while to recover from the sweet sight. He then glanced at Haren, feeling a warmth stir in him. What the hell...
Sketch remembered he was in the middle of bantering in time to not appear like an asshole. “Not really. You nearly stuck your head in boiling water once.”
“Oh, c’mon. That was a long time ago.”
“Instills confidence. Really does.” Sketch deadpanned, not really hearing himself. He hoped Trust wouldn’t notice the front he was putting up. Her lack of pony skills were apparent as she showed no signs of noticing. It was hard to focus when your thoughts were being hijacked by two individuals at once. Trust was a welcome little thief, but he wanted Haren to get the hell out-- she was making a home for herself in Sketch’s brain train and he didn’t like it one bit. Sketch shook his head to clear his thoughts once Trust wasn’t looking and decided that it’d be best if they didn’t separate. “C’mon, we should catch up to the others.”
Trust turned her head. “Tch.”
Sketch froze, confused by the sound. “Something wrong?”
“It’s nothin’.” she said, still looking at the ground. He could tell something was indeed wrong, but it was clear he wasn’t going to be able to do much. The best he could do was try to raise her spirits.
“Want some food?”
Her ears perked up as she cocked her head in stunned silence. After a moment, she heaved a great guffaw and yelled, “Hell yeah!”
“I’ll buy us some sopapillas, you go ahead and wait with Anthem.”
“Sopa-what-uhs?”
“You’ll love ‘em, trust me,” Sketch said with confidence. Trust indignantly scoffed.
“Could you stop saying to trust you? It’s lame.”
Sketch coughed, only now catching the unintended pun. “Sorry.” Sketch began to walk away, but stopped himself after a short time. He cleared his throat. “Trust, listen. Keep your distance from Haren.”
One of Trust’s fluffy ears rose, leaving the other one level. “Why?”
“Cause she’s too damn smart, and nosy. It’ll just be safer. Don’t feel like you have to avoid her though, she’s a good gal, just be careful.”
“Tch, whatever. Just get me my food,” she joked, smirking and glancing at Sketch with one half-open eye.
“Of course, m’lady.” Sketch bowed and backed away as regally as possible. He could hear Trust chuckling to herself as he walked away, and he marked that as a personal victory. Sketch trotted around for a bit, trying to find a vendor that looked legit and wouldn’t sprinkle the fry bread with cocaine. The lanes of traffic were slowly becoming more crowded, it being saturated with ponies. Slowly, sketch started to see that three to one ratio Haren described when a bit more griffins started to show up. A lot of them looked very exotic, some of them sporting black fur and fluorescent tipped feathers. He couldn’t tell if they were dyed or if it was their natural colors. While most of the ponies were already drunk, high, or cheering at the top of their lungs, the griffins were a bit more reserved. Not to say they weren’t drunk or high as well, they just were a bit more classy about it. They stayed in small groups and barely opened their beaks. Sketch wondered how Anthem ever became friends with someone like that.
Sketch spotted a small stand with a large line behind it named “Oils and Grease Fry Bread”. Oddly enough, a bovine was at the stand, but it seemed she knew what she was doing. Sketch picked up his pace in order to get in line faster, but slipped on some wet dirt. He tried to regain his hoofing, only to find his other leg land right on a paper plate. He fell completely to the left side and nearly hit the ground, before another object stopped him completely. “OOFH!”
Sketch was still bracing for the cold wet ground, but shockingly, all he felt was a dry, soft warmth. “I’d hate to see how you’d handle yourself on a boat, pony.”
Sketch checked to see if he was actually supporting himself on another pony. After a few prods, he deduced that, yes, I am leaning on somepony. “Uhh...” He quickly regained his balance and dusted himself off. Just his luck, the pony he landed on was a pretty mare wearing some thick-rimmed glasses. She was a rust orange color with a beige, neatly piled mane and green eyes. She had the stature of a professional, someone with authority, but Sketch could tell that it was an act. But something told him that she was aware of that fact. “Thanks for the, uhh... leverage.”
“No problem, friend.” She said nothing more and faced the line to the stand. She was getting something at this place as well.
They stood for a while, and Sketch decided to ease the tension he felt was there. “So uh... hows it going?”
The mare smirked and looked at him before answering. “So you decided to brave the small talk, eh?” She stuck her hoof out formally. “Syntax.”
It took awhile for Sketch to figure out that it was her name that she just said. “Oh, uhh, Art Sketch.” He shook her hoof. “Everypony calls me Sketch.”
“Hmn. Sketch, huh? Can’t say I’ve met many of those.” Despite her rather cynical attitude, she remained light hearted in conversation. “What’s the deal then, Sketch? What is this place?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Sketch asked, raising his hoof back up.
“Nah, I just saw a bunch of ponies walking here and figured it’d be neat to check out. Maybe there’d be a story. Didn’t know there was going to be a proper Woodstock festival here.”
“Wow, that’s pretty amazing that you just stumbled on here. This is Hearth’s Tearing. happens a week before Hearth’s Warming. A tame party, considering. A lot of griffins come here. That’s pretty much it.”
“Wow, you made it sound really boring.”
“This isn’t exactly my cup of tea, actually. I don’t usually go to these kinds of things,” Sketch admitted. It was good to talk about this now, it was rare to find anyone that shared his kind of apathy for things like this.
“What do you usually do then? What’s your day job?”
“I uh...” Well, he didn’t have a job, but that wasn’t information he’d readily share. “I... am an artist.”
“Heh, right. You seemed like the type.”
“The type?” Sketch inquired, cocking his head a bit.
“Yeah, you know. Dark and broody. Upset with the world. The only outlet for your emotion being the grind of graphite against a crisp sheet of paper. That type.”
Well... she wasn’t exactly wrong. “Frighteningly accurate.”
“That’s my job,” she boasted, putting her hoof to her chest and closing her eyes. “Investigative journalist. Sometimes I take some photos, but I usually stick to writing.” She gave him a suave, very alluring look. “I can read you like a book, kid.”
“Can you now?” Sketch decided to challenge her. Of course, he instantly regretted the decision when it seemed like she bathed in the opportunity with carnal delight.
“Well... let’s see...” Syntax tapped on her chin playfully, only pretending to come up with a reading. It was obvious that she already had something in mind. “I can tell you don’t actually have a job.”
Sketch was taken aback at the accusation. How did she know?
“And your reaction confirms it,” she chuckled, looking down on him. “Before you ask me how I knew, let me tell you. It’s your stature. Your demeanor. Artists that have a reliable, paying job have a arrogant and somewhat superior stance about them. They’ll maintain eye contact and will make it a point to speak intelligently, even if the money they make is very little. They also wouldn’t strike up a conversation with a complete stranger, although they would still thank her for keeping them from falling on their face.”
Sketch blushed and looked away, answering her with his silence. She smiled coyly and bumped him with her elbow.
“Hahaha! See? Your book is wide open and dog-eared. Some hoofprints on it too.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. No need for the extended metaphor.” Sketch blew some of his hair out of his face. “Not like I’m in much position to get a job anyway,” he mumbled. Syntax tensed up a bit and eyed him with suspicion.
“Yeah... how old are you, anyway, kid?”
Sketch’s heart skipped a beat, figuring something he said had somehow given him away. He swallowed and tried to stay cool. “Forty-seven. Why do you ask?”
Syntax was stunned silent for a small time, before turning away with an uneasy smile on her face. “Heh. Okay, I get it. None of my business, right? Not like I could do anything about it.”
“About what?” Sketch acted out. “There’s nothing wrong about a middle-aged stallion like me hanging out at an alcohol and drug filled party now, is there? Look, my mane is grey and everything.”
Syntax clicked her tongue and punched Sketch lightly in the arm, laughing a bit. She coincided her defeat by dropping the subject. She looked at him for a bit with one eye, before putting on a confused expression. She gestured forward with her head and spoke. “Hey, you’re next, kid.”
“Hm?” Sketch asked, before answering himself with the simply turn of his neck. The vendor smiled, tapping patiently on the counter with her bovine hoof.
“‘Chu want?” she inquired. A distinct, yet unidentifiable accent masked her words well. Sketch was barely able to make out her words, figuring she must have have asked ‘What do you want?’.
“Uhh, two honey and sugar fry breads.” Sketch reached into his pack, pulling out the bits necessary. He had it ready before hand, to prevent any embarrassing fumblings for cash.
“A’ight dat’d be fiffeen bits, friend.”
Something told Sketch that her accent wasn’t native to her people. As he traded the money for the food, food that was promptly provided, Syntax bumped her elbow into Sketch to get his attention.
“Who are you with?” Syntax asked with a bit of sparkle in her eye. Something about her inquisitive nature made Sketch uneasy. It’s like she knew Sketch was hiding something incredibly unique, which disturbed him further since she’d be correct. Syntax was dangerous, that much was certain. It was a shame, she seemed like a very interesting pony.
“A couple of friends that are totally old enough to be here,” Sketch quipped with obvious sarcasm. Syntax rolled her eyes, actually appearing to be exasperated for a split second, before she put her original face back on. It seems she caught her own slip-up as she winced a bit under her facade. She probably figured out that Sketch knew she wanted something from him. She frowned and glanced behind her.
“Sure, kid. Look, I gotta go. There’s a story around here somewhere. Good luck, Sketch.”
I’m gonna need it, Sketch thought to himself, putting on a fake smile. “Thanks. See you later.”
She grinned, staring at him with purpose. “Definitely.”
Sketch stepped back, cautiously making sure he didn’t trip on anything or bump into Syntax, lest he spill his food. The whole conversation made Sketch feel uneasy, as if he were lying to somebody he cared about. He felt bad for not being more of a help to her. Maybe that was her intention, make Sketch want to trust her with information? She was a skilled speaker, and had swathes of curiosity to boot. Sketch just couldn’t risk getting to know her better; for the sake of Trust.
He tried to push the thought of the mare away, instead focusing on where his hooves were landing on the the ground. He realized he had lost his sense of direction somewhere in the middle of his little adventure and almost panicked, but simmered down once he spotted Trust and the others. He noticed Anthem talking Trust’s ears off, blabbering about something he was apparently pretty passionate about. It was easy to tell from here that he was taking care not to flirt, as he had a stupid grin on his face and his eyes were fully open. Trust didn’t seem to mind the conversation, as she was smiling, even though it appeared she wasn’t exactly at her most comfortable. Trying to avoid any conflict, Sketch increased his pace and placed himself in between the two. Good thing Anthem was too dense to notice. Sketch found himself leaning on his absentmindedness a lot more than he usually did.
“Trust,” Sketch acknowledged, hoofing her the food. It seemed she was about to make some sort of witty comment, but stopped in her tracks once she saw the treat in front of her. It took her some strength to not immediately start drooling. She swiped the food from him and ate as quickly as she could in a respectful manner. Sketch chuckled and faced Anthem. “Where’s Haren?” Sketch asked.
“She’s just goin’ to the restroom real quick before the concert starts. That’s her favorite part.”
“They have restrooms here?” Sketch queried, taking a look around.
“No, we just shit in the woods.”
“Alright, alright, stupid question,” Sketch admitted under his breath. Anthem guffawed, a little too loudly for Sketch’s taste.
“They’re just porta-potties.” He turned his attention to Trust, who was in the middle of tearing a piece of bread and dipping it in the excess honey. How she managed to do that hooves, Sketch will never know. “How’s Trust liking that frybread?”
“Better company than you,” she answered coyly, taking a moment from her bliss. Anthem seemed legitimately fussed about her quip, but took a friendly approach.
He pretended to be stabbed and held his side in faux pain. “Oof, that hurts.”
She stuck out her tongue and smiled to show she wasn’t serious. That seemed to repair Anthem’s mood, as he laughed again, loudly and sincerely. He then turned around and frowned, looking in a random direction with a troubled expression; it only happened for a second. Although Sketch was concerned, there was no way to ask without insulting the stubborn stallion. It was the sort of thing one has to wait for in order to help. Suddenly, the vendors around the three lit up, along with the entire field in front of them. Trust yelped in pain while Sketch and Anthem blinked, struggling to adjust their eyes to the newly acquired light. Anthem hadn’t noticed Trust, but Sketch immediately went to her side.
“You okay?”
“Yeah! Yeah. Dammit,” Trust cursed, rubbing her eyes and slowly exposing them to the light. It was flooring just how dull her colors were now, her entire body nearly a mute grey. The only ounce of sharp color on her were her eyes. He noticed that her pupils were so shrunk they almost looked like they weren’t there. “The hell was th...”
Trust stopped in her tracks when she spotted the large makeshift stage that sat at the base of the hill they happen to be standing on. It was humble contraption, designed to be light and portable. However, there was an essence of craftsmanship about it; it looked incredibly solid and had no visible faults whatsoever. Impressive in its own right, but not something Trust would be interested in. “What is that?”
Or not.
“I take it’s a stage?” Sketch suggested.
“Yup. They’re gonna be starting soon.” Anthem blankly swiveled his head around, staring at nothing in particular, or maybe some force that was only visible to him. He transitioned into scratching his head with a confused look on his face. “I wonder when Haren will be back, she won’t want to miss this.” He looked very uneasy. Eventually, he seemed to come to some sort of a decision. “I’m gonna go look for her...” He formed the statement as a question, like he wasn’t sure he was supposed to say that. Sketch rose his eyebrow in curiosity, but decided not to question him. Trust was oblivious, however more due more to her food than a lack of foresight.
“Alright,” Sketch conceded, carefully looking for any tells. Anthem blankly turned and walked away. Sketch wondered if he even knew where he was going. He was walking with such purpose that it seemed that way.
“Hey, Sketch!” Trust demanded, prodding him sharply in the side. It derailed his train of thought and replaced it with a Trust train, encompassing all things Trust.
“Sup?”
“Get me another.” Trust shoved the wrapper of the frybread into his chest rudely, but obviously in jest.
“Damn, girl. Already?”
“Hey, you couldn’t honestly believe I’d only eat one.” She had a point there. Nothing would suggest otherwise.
He took a look around, reminding himself of Anthem’s behavior. “Are... you sure you’ll be okay alone?”
She chuckled, putting one leg over her knee. “Yeah... I like it here... it feels... right.”
As much as Sketch hated to do it, he didn’t want her to feel he was babysitting her. He respected her too much for that. He had faith she’d be smart about the other ponies here.
Taking a few reluctant steps, he decided to speed up and minimize the time away from her. No reason to take unnecessary risks. He found the vendor faster this time, yet this time there was no line. Presumably, everypony had shifted to the other side of the field to watch the concert. The bovine was reading a book at the stand, waiting diligently to serve any stragglers such as Sketch. Feeling the sudden urge of nature from so many mentions of it from Anthem, Sketch decided to take a slight detour and find a restroom. Taking one last look at the vendor and shrugging, Sketch set on his... “quest”.
He made it a point to trot in order to get it over with and quickly found a lone porta-potty sitting in the middle of the field. Checking to see if it was occupied and confirming that it was indeed vacant, he pulled open the door and proceeded to walk in.
That was difficult, however, seeing as there was already somepony in it. Along with somebody else. Sketch was simply confused at first, knowing that what he stumbled upon was supposed to be an empty outhouse rather than a somewhat crowded place. He then found that one individual, the one that happened to be on top of the other and curled in an odd position, was a bit feathery than the other, meaning that she was indeed a griffin. The pony on the bottom looked very familiar, with blue fur and purple hair. It was Anthem. His brain made the connection that the griffin must have been Haren, then. That was strange. Why would the two of them be sharing a bathroom?
That’s when something in Sketch’s head sparked. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened as he looked over Haren’s face to see a horrified and shocked expression. He scanned over to Anthem’s face to see an incredibly similar one. He then went to the meridian of the two points to see that he had indeed walked into what he thought he had walked into.
“Uhh... occupado.” Anthem breathed, trying to chuckle but failing miserably. After what seemed like ages but couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, Sketch simultaneously pushed with his hoof and his magic to close the door, slamming it so hard that the entire structure shook. He then felt faint, nearly falling over, before deciding to limply lean on the door with his back. His heart was beating a mile a minute and his breathing was labored. He was trying to believe what he just saw, but whenever he did he immediately wanted to forget about it, but in turn it made him forget why he wanted to forget it in the first place, which made him try to believe it again. It was vicious cycle that continued for about a minute, before he simply bolted in a single direction.
As he left, the door to the restroom opened, revealing the pair inside, unbeknownst to the troubled unicorn speeding away. Haren turned to face Anthem directly, as did Anthem to her. Anthem sighed, being the first to regain his composure. “Dammit.”
Sketch kept a brisk pace through the paths leading back to Trust. He realized that he had been carrying another sopapilla, though he could not remember actually getting it. His body had been on autopilot since the... event, and he was pretty sure he had lost all feeling in his legs. He was still moving so he assumed that he had not, in fact, fallen over. Just yet, at least. So many things zipped through his head, so many thoughts, that he had abandoned all efforts to actually examine them. It was so surreal, he truly felt like he was having an out of body experience. That is until he felt the full force of an entire pony’s body come into contact with his.
“Oof,” Sketch exclaimed, his first utterance in about fifteen minutes. The mare he had bumped into turned and smiled through familiar thick-rimmed glasses.
“You should really make a habit out of actually walking instead of falling everywhere, Sketch.”
“Beh?” Was all that Sketch could muster, and the effort effectively sapped Sketch of all his strength. Syntax broke her cool stance and expression in favor of an uneasy and disturbed one. The last thing she expected the stallion to do was almost vomit in her face.
“Excuse me?”
“Sketchy, what’s wrong?” a new voice called. It was enough to knock Sketch out of his stupor for a couple of seconds. That was Trust’s voice, immediately following Syntax’s voice.
“Trust?” Sketch took a look at the voice, who was indeed the one he thought. He then faced Syntax again, to make sure he had seen and heard correctly. They must have been talking.
“You two know each other,” Syntax chimed in, stating it as fact rather than asking one of them. “How interesting, yet...” she glanced at Trust and then back at Sketch. “Predictable.”
“Syntax,” he said, grimly, looking at her through his hair. “Why are you talking to her?”
She seemed legitimately flummoxed, confused at his dark manner of speech. “Well, I... Well she just seemed a bit lonely here, by herself. I was a bit worried.”
So she doesn’t know then... that’s good. Then why would she bother...? Sketch noticed how young Trust looked, now. She was shorter than most ponies here, and probably seemed the most lost. It was common sense that Syntax would strike up a conversation with her like she did with Sketch. As slimy as Syntax seemed to Sketch, she was trying to be the responsible adult. Sketch was satisfied with her answer, as he knew that she was giving it hidden meaning only for him.
“Yes, well, she’s with me, and a few friends. She’ll be okay.”
There was a couple moment of silence between the three, each waiting for the other to make a move. Trust was absolutely confused as to what was actually going on.
Slowly, Syntax spoke, giving weight to every syllable. “I... see... well, she’s in good hooves.”
Sketch couldn’t hold back a smirk. The mare was not stupid. Quite the opposite, in fact. She was very intelligent. He knew she could see that Sketch was not trying anything funny with Trust. There was too much evidence to the contrary. Furthermore, she knew he knew her true nature, even if he only had a small idea of it. Encounters with the mare have turned into intellectual battles, both waiting for the other to slip. So far, Sketch was winning, but it felt like it was only by default.
Trust broke the silence that had formed between them. “Uhh... yeah. Sketch, Syntax is a really cool mare. She told me what band was playing.”
Sketch broke his locked stare with Syntax to eye Trust with confusion. He glanced back at Syntax and scoffed. “‘Just saw a bunch of ponies walking here’, huh?”
She smiled knowingly, but kept quiet, knowing she’d been caught in a lie. “The band is pretty well known for their rebellious songs. Perhaps you can relate, boy.” Syntax had reached the point where her words dripped with venom. Even the change of formality in calling Sketch “boy” was incredibly emasculating. Trust started to shift uncomfortably, wanting the awkward conversation to stop. Sketch noticed this and decided to be the bigger pony and disarm the metaphorical bomb.
“Thanks for looking out for her, Syntax.”
Her eyes widened for a moment before she decided to put on a smile. “Anytime.” There was a sharp noise, the sudden yet soft squeal of a speaker getting plugged in. All three ponies turned towards the stage where a single stallion stood. He had a drunken expression, a big dumb smile plastered over his longer-than-most muzzle. There was another static-laden squeal as he tapped the microphone.
“Awright, awright. I gotta be honest with you folks, I was a bit nervous coming here what with all the griffins here.” There was a stunned silence among the crowd, most of which just couldn’t believe what he had just said. Before anyone could react, his voice boomed across the field once again. “But then I realized that it was bucking stupid to be nervous. Griffins are just like you and me, only feathererier. And they could probably kick your ass. But one they definitely are... they know how to bucking party!”
Sketch wasn’t sure that the stallion was wording any of this correctly, but it appears the crowd didn’t seem to care. There was a roar from the multitudes, and incredibly ear busting whistles coming from the griffins. The stallion on the mic got reinvigorated by this and grabbed the stand with one leg, pulling it closer to his mouth. “SO LET’S SHOW ‘EM A GOOD TIME, WHAT DO YA SAY?!” The crowd exploded once again, shattering all of Sketch’s senses. Even Trust had gotten in on the hype, cheering and thrusting her hoof in the air. Sketch was probably the most reserved one there, Trust’s enthusiasm the only thing getting a reaction from him. In the middle of all the noise, Syntax poked Sketch to get his attention.
“I don’t think there’s anything left for me here, so I’m gonna bounce.”
Sketch nodded, unsure whether or not he wanted her to stay.
“Awww, what a bummer,” Trust said, the smile never leaving her face.
“Tell you what, kid. You ever got anything you want to tell me, I’m always around.” Syntax fished a business card out of her saddlebags and hoofed it to Sketch. He took it from her without protest.
“I’ll consider it,” he said, honestly.
“See that you do.” And with that, Syntax turned to leave. As she walked away, Sketch flipped the card up and inspected it. Canterlot City Confidential - 4533 E Boardtrot / Personal - 4398 E Capricot. He flipped to the other side. Written in red ink, it said, Don’t think I don’t know you have something for me, hotshot. I can get to the bottom of it without even stepping on your toes ;) Sketch’s heart raced at the hoofwritten warning. She had this prewritten; she was expecting to see him again after their first meeting. Does that mean she knew Trust and I came here together, too? He shuddered at the thought. Trust was eying the business card too, but he was confident she couldn’t read cursive, or at least not that fast, and he decided not to worry her about it.
“What’d it say?” she asked. It seemed he was right.
“Ah, nothing important.” Sketch pocketed the card and returned his focus to the frybread that was still hovering next to him. He hoped that it hadn’t gotten cold yet. “Here you go, Trust. Just for you.”
“Aw, sweet, I almost forgot!” She greedily swiped it from Sketch’s magical grasp and took a huge chunk out of it, licking her lips and smacking them all the while. Sketch tried not to watch for obvious reasons. It was easier to ignore when a small band prepared their instruments on stage. There were a few test strums and beats before the lead singer said a few words.
“Enjoy yourselves, every moment you get. Life isn’t all hardship, and you can push through by appreciating the time you have right now. Everything ahead of you is small compared to you. Everyone makes a difference; don’t wait for the world to do it for you. You ready?” And the [url]song began[/url].
“Like a new day rising,
Like a calm before the storm
Like fog lifting from valleys
On a sleeping forest floors
Eyes open slowly, as the dust is shaken off
To gaze upon the wreckage
That the midnight hands have wrought!”
The melody was unlike anything Sketch had ever heard. Loud and dirty, but poetic in its message, keeping to a moral high, and an aim to spread awareness and objectivity. Sketch couldn’t decipher the lyrics exactly, but he had already decided he agreed with them. Music was usually a thing Sketch couldn’t exactly understand. It could sound nice, sometimes, but it never resonated the same way others swear by. While he could never fully appreciate the raw power a good song such as this had, he could see why somepony could be so taken by simple sounds. It was art, it always was.
Trust had closed her eyes and rose her nose in the air, almost bathing in the notes and chords as the shook her to the core. She was clearly enjoying this more than he was. And that was just the way he wanted it. Sketch couldn’t help but stare... she just seemed so peaceful. Sketch sighed and closed his eyes as well. He inhaled the sticky and dirt-laden night air, and decided it wasn’t half bad. He wondered where Haren was-- she would enjoy this.
Hrk! Sketch jaw locked so tight he nearly bit off his own tongue. He completely forgot about those two!
“Out of freakin’ everyone, it had to be him! There’s like five hundred ponies and griffins here and it had to be him.”
Haren couldn’t face her friend. She kept her eyes on the ground at a forty five degree angle. It was just too embarrassing. She was searching for words, anything that would comfort Anthem. “At least it was someone we know.”
“That makes it worse, Haren!” Anthem yelled, slamming his hoof into the ground. “If it was a stranger we could have just laughed it off. But Sketch? I see that boy every other day. I mean-” There was a loud thonk! which Haren assumed to be his hoof hitting his forehead in frustration. “Argh!”
“Sketchy’s a nice kid, and smart, too. He’ll get it, and he won’t care, he’s just that kind of guy.”
“Then why didn’t he say anything? Or stay behind to talk? You keep forgetting that he isn’t an adult just yet. There’s still a lot of things he doesn’t know how to deal with, even as smart as he is.”
Haren was impressed with Anthem’s reasoning. He really was considerate and thoughtful. However his density would be his downfall, since it’s pretty obvious that this is something he can definitely empathize with. Of course, she couldn’t just tell him that.
“I just... I just... dammit! How the hell did we even get in this mess?”
While the question was rhetorical, Haren couldn’t help but answer it in her head. It was my fault. I did this. Haren tried to hold back her tears, and she succeeded; something that she’s had way too much practice in. It was a good thing that Sketch was a lot more mature than Anthem thought. A strange occurrence, considering that the both of them had asked him for advice more than once.
Haren sighed, disappointed in herself for being so stupidly selfish. She had already crossed the line, and then she decided to dance on the other side whilst playing with gasoline and matches. It was stupid. “Look, he’ll get over it. I know you have trouble remembering, but ignoring all the shit he gives us, Sketch really likes us. We’re nearly his only friends.” Weird, calling him a friend and putting myself in the same boat as Anthem. They knew each other a lot longer than I knew Sketch. But he seemed really eager to get to know me, and he voluntarily hung out with me just as much as him. I really love the little guy. Haren smiled at the thought. Unlike Anthem, Haren really appreciated the fact it was Sketch. Now she had someone to talk to...
“Yeah... yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, I just I... don’t know what to do...”
Haren wanted to tell him to have a little bit of faith, but she was skeptical as well. She felt so vulnerable... it was disturbing. resisting the urge to throw up, she sat as soon as Anthem did, watching the ensuing concert. Haren hadn’t even noticed the music until now... either that or it had just started playing. Good music.
Haren sighed once again, an itch forming beneath her skin. She had dropped the mask, even for just a moment, and it bothered the hell out of her. She held her own shoulder with her talon, guarding herself from nothing in particular. She shifted her eyes and caught Sketch in the corner of her vision. She perked up and began to shift her weight towards him, before realizing it would make Anthem uncomfortable and decided against it, frowning. It would have to wait. She kept her eyes on Sketch, however. For the first time she fully appreciated the weight he had in her life in such a remarkably short period of time. He had his eyes closed and was facing the sky along with his lady friend, a smile on his face, presumably to fully enjoy the music. Sketch never struck her as a music man, however he totally struck her as a Trust man. She really hoped he realized how much he actually liked the girl, but like Anthem said, he was still young. Young love is so difficult.
“It’s easy to see how those two became friends, huh?” Anthem spoke suddenly, sounding a bit more relaxed.
“I’m surprised they hadn’t met each other earlier,” Haren agreed.
“Almost makes you think there was a reason, huh?” Anthem coyly suggested, with one brow arched up. Haren nearly gasped when she looked at him. She was impressed, usually Anthem didn’t even care enough to notice any subtleties. Anthem noticed her astonished reaction and laughed. “I don’t look as stupid as I am, huh?”
Haren continued to stare, trying to comprehend what she just heard. Anthem’s sly, confident look slowly dissolved as he reviewed the statement in his head. One could almost hear his brain grind to a halt.
“...Wait.”
The music started to die down, more tame songs being played by more obscure bands, and the crowd began to disperse. Sketch was strangely calm, a feeling of warmth and a soft tingling sensation going down his spine. Due to recent events, he shouldn’t be this relaxed. But something about it... it actually helped. Now that he had time to think, he wondered why he was so bothered by it. Well... it was weird... really weird... but no weirder than Trust was, and that didn’t matter. Something did hit on a personal matter, though... perhaps he was upset they hadn’t felt it was safe to tell him, or that he wouldn’t approve. Then again, why would they care? They never care about anything, a very endearing, if frustrating, character trait.
Sketch shook his head and the corresponding thoughts followed suit. He decided not to dwell on this any further; this night had been more eventful than he would’ve liked. Still, Trust had received no damage and actually enjoyed herself. That was the important thing. When Sketch had pursued this endeavor, he thought that the hardest thing to deal with was going to be Trust and her awkwardness. Little did he know that he would walk in on two of his closest friends chumming it up. No, it was worse than that, it was like seeing your grandpa passionately kissing your grandpa from your other parent’s side. Not only is it nauseating, but it seems friggin impossible until you see it.
There was also that mare, Syntax. SKetch wasn’t sure what to think about her. Whether or not her intentions were pure was another matter, Sketch was just interested about what it was she wanted exactly, and how much she knew. There were times where he felt that she was watching them, just out of their peripheral. He wasn’t entirely convinced that it was just nerves.
Before he knew it, Sketch and Trust were walking back to the cable car they had gotten to the party with. Trust was nervously looking behind herself and around Sketch. She had stopped raving about how awesome the party was long enough for SKetch to become concerned. He faced her sincerely. “What’s wrong?”
“Where’s Haren and the dumb stallion?”
Sketch frowned and kicked at the dirt as they walked. “Uhh.... I don’t know if we’ll see them again tonight.
Trust seemed genuinely upset, stamping her hoof in the dirt as well. “Why not?”
“Uhh...” Sketch wasn’t exactly sure he knew how to word what he was going to say. It all happened so fast, but it also felt like ages. All concept of time disappeared for a few seconds as he experienced it. It made him uncomfortable at best. “I uhh..” SKetch cleared his throat and swallowed the phlegm. “I kind of... had to go to the restroom while I was getting your food and... and...”
“Did you pee on them or something?”
Sketch nearly stopped walking on account of Trust’s odd remark. “What? No. I uh... I kind of walked in on them while... while they were... interlocked.” After hearing it, Sketch decided that was the absolute worst word he could have used to describe their position.
Trust’s jaw dropped and made an audible squeak as it reached its apex. “R-r-really?!”
“Yeah... in a... porta-potty.” He wasn’t sure if they would be okay with Sketch sharing the details, but he ultimately didn’t care. He wasn’t going to keep anything from Trust, even if he didn’t necessarily have to share.
“Woah. Like full-on sex?”
Sketch’s entire body went red. It was like being asked about his mother’s love life. It breached every barrier of okay that Sketch had built since his birth. “I-I DON’T KNOW! I didn’t stick around long enough to find out!” He had to really hold back vomit.
“Dude... heavy.” Sketch was a little bit annoyed at the nonchalance of her comments. She found this more entertaining than anything. Of course, it was not like Sketch could really blame her for it. She didn’t know them like he did.
Sketch stepped onto the cable car without actually making the conscious decision to. His partner started making some strange noises and tried to nudge him in the shoulder. “Uhh, Sketch?”
Sketch was in the middle of a thought and decided to voice it. “Look, it was very strange for all of us, and I just want to forget it happened.”
“Sketch.” Trust said under her breath again, poking him sharply in the ribs.
“Ow, what?” She motioned toward the other side of the car, making an odd face. Sketch turned to see Anthem and Haren staring everywhere but the direction Sketch was in, sitting sheepishly on seats that were a little too small for them. The distance between the two was a little too close for Sketch’s comfort. “Oh.”
Haren opened her beak to say something, but decided against it when realizing nobody in the car was actually looking at anyone else. She turned to face the outside of the window once again. The silence was louder than anyone would’ve imagined. A few of them feared they would go deaf from it. Sketch tried to focus on the cool wind hitting his face from the speed of the car. The air was a bit fresher than at Hearth’s Tearing, and Sketch wasn’t sure if he preferred it or not. Someone audibly sniffed and immediately regretted it, so they tried to be even quieter than before and somehow succeeded. After about thirty seven centuries, the car finally got to Canterlot once again. The four passengers immediately ran off, desperately cautious to not make contact with each other. As soon as they got outside they immediately began to disperse, leaving in pairs.
Sketch, deciding that this was not the optimal to end an otherwise wonderful night when ignoring the incident, cleared his throat. “Hey.”
Anthem winced, while Haren slowly turned and offered a nervous smile. “Yeah?” she asked.
“See you guys tomorrow.” Sketch wore the most genuine smile he could’ve given, trying to reassure the two that he wasn’t angry with them. He had gotten the impression that they believed this while in the car. Those two acted like children sometimes. Haren visibly lit up and Anthem seemed to loosen up. Haren nodded, feeling nothing more needed to be said. They walked off into the night.
Sketch turned back leading the way back to his house. He wondered what time it was. He judged about three in the morning, but it wasn’t like he could read the moon’s positioning or anything so there was no way to confirm it. Eager to make some conversation with Trust, he decided to ask her.
“Like two forty-six,” She answered with complete confidence. Sketch glanced at her and took a double take.
“How do you know?”
“I dunno, I just do.” She shrugged. “I’ve always known. At least at night.”
“Huh.”
“Hey, Sketch?”
Trust’s voice had a slight shrill to it. “Yeah?”
“What do you think... about the two of them, I mean.”
Sketch didn’t really understand the question, but there was something he wanted to share. “It’s weird, but that’s their business. Knowing those two, they’re just fooling around, or experimenting. I’m just a little pissed they didn’t tell me, it’s obvious it wasn’t their first time.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Their attitude. They would have just laughed it off otherwise. They were... ashamed, almost.”
Sketch just realized something very important. This was probably the reason Anthem was acting so odd lately. It made sense, the question was why would he continue fooling around with Haren if it made him so uncomfortable all the time. Sketch would have to ask him soon...
It only took the two of them a few minutes to get back to Sketch’s place. He sat and stared at his window, some place that seemed so far away, further than it ever seemed before. Everything looked different than yesterday.Everything was... smaller. He sighed, unsure if he even wanted to return to this world. But he had to someday, sooner than later.
Right?
“Need some help?”
“Huh?” Sketch asked, totally unaware what she meant. He looked at her, then the window. “Uh, no I don-”
Trust was already enveloping Sketch in her forelegs as he answered. He only stopped trying to talk when a large amount of pressure formed along his stomach. “Hrk!” he grunted, trying to replace the air he just lost. He spinned around mid-air until he was facing Trust belly-up. He presumed he was just easier to carry this way, but too many thoughts were rushing through his head in order to rationalize anything. They were already in the air, and Sketch silently commended Trust’s extreme strength and dexterity. They even made it through the window without much resistance. Trust sloppily landed on his bed, forming a soft thud noise as the both of them loosely flopped onto the surface. Sketch was able to gather himself to think once again, but even that was hard to do when she was just staring right at him It was especially hard because his room was dark, which meant Trust’s eyes were once again glowing. His eyes adjusted to their light until she was the only thing he could see.
“Why’d you put me in my bed?” he asked, with a blank monotone.
There was a silence. He could almost feel her seductive smile. “‘Cos you’re tired right?”
“Not really,” he answered truthfully. He should’ve been tired. He wasn’t.
“Oh, well. Whoops.” She shrugged, sending chills down his spine. A bunch of less wholesome scenarios played through Sketch’s head involving a number of solutions to this problem that wasn’t actually a problem. He forced himself to keep his mind away from any of that, but Trust’s presence was making it very difficult. “Good morning, Sketch.”
“Good morning.” Trust, agonizingly slowly, stood up and gently floated to the ground, keeping eye contact with Sketch all the while. She even jumped out the window like that. As soon as she slipped out of his field of vision, Sketch’s heart sank. Today had ended all too soon.
But at least it happened at all.
Sketch was standing in light, standing on nothing, breathing stale air, and tasting something akin to a child’s medicine. It wasn’t awful, but something felt... safe about it. And for the first time in his life, that sounded like a bad thing. He just kind of... existed for a while. He simply wore a bored expression on his face, unsure of what to do or what to care about. A lot of people would have found this relaxing, but he absolutely hated it. It didn’t make him angry, however. It was a passive distaste, one he probably wouldn’t have noticed if there was some other form of stimuli wherever he was.
Suddenly, a darkness appeared in the corner of his eyes. He knew it must’ve been a blinding dark, but not matter how hard he tried, he could never get it past his peripheral. It was frustrating, He began to walk, with hopes of getting closer. It was hard to move his legs, and he constantly felt like he was going to trip, but he could not figure out why he had such difficulty. Before he knew it, the darkness consumed his entire being. He could not remember when he had gotten so far, as it was hard to focus on anything, let alone the passage of time. Sooner or later, Sketch found himself in the center in a small tiled room, like a bathroom or something. It was claustrophobic and bare, nothing to focus on once again. He began to experience that familiar medicine taste in the back of his throat. Suddenly, yet somehow also predictably, a presence entered the room. Sketch felt a pressure on his shoulder. Instead of being scared, or startled, he calmly turned to the source. Much to his surprise, it was a grey mare with bat wings: Trust. Before he could speak, she put a hoof to his muzzle. She grinned, and only said one phrase.
“You’ll do nicely.”
Sketch woke up in a cold sweat to the sound of his alarm clock. Six o’clock. Too early. He slammed his clock and turned over, dreading the fact he has to actually get up afterward. The memories of the dream he had were quickly fading, and he tried his best to catalogue them, but unfortunately all that was left were fragments. He remembered Trust being in there. That was good. He also remembered not thinking dirty thoughts about Haren. That was... good? Sketch shrugged, and using all of energy to get up.
It took all his strength to not pass out.
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Good chapter keep it up
Totally saw them as a couple from the start.
I'm like Luqwidice, I actually believed they were together from the start. But now it's suggested they, in fact, weren't together when Sketch first make acquittance with Haren.
5417416 Yep they were just roommates, I apologize if I didn't make that clear enough.
Their relationship was previously quite platonic.
5458192
You're welcome.
5458196
The thing is, the only way to make it less ambiguous would be to clearly make them lovers since the start, I think. (Now, English not being my birth language…)
5458845 Don't worry about your english, it's fine and your grammar is impressive.
I'm going to keep it ambiguous, since it's kind of important that they aren't lovers at the start.
Midnight Hands is one of my favorite RA songs. You get my like just for that. Now to finish catching up...After I sleep.