Bad Mondays

by Handyman

Chapter 31 - Hart in hand

It was breath-taking.

Trees as wide as buildings soared into the skies, so high up that the canopy could not even be seen. Vast bridges stretched from one tree to the next, each one unique in design with nothing to support them between the superstructures of the immense oakenhearts, which he learned they were called. Up and down their lengths could be seen constructions, buildings, and courtyards extending out, hanging from the sides of the trees as if grown from them, entire towns in their own right clinging to the great trees for life. Great light-giving flowers grew all over the place, covering the bark of the great trees with multi-hued brilliance when they flowered, complimenting and contrasting with the yellow torch and candlelight that peeked out from within the homes of the deer that called these woods their home. During the day, the sun shone down all the way down to the ground as if the canopy did not exist to block its light. It shone all the way to the vast wooden plain that formed the base of the oakenhearts, which itself was over a dozen feet off the ground. It illuminated the activities of the deer as they went about their daily lives amidst the gardens, farms, markets, and houses built upon their artificial ground.

And during the night, the trees lit up like pillars of starlight.

To say that Handy was impressed would be an understatement. He wasn't even aware they were approaching anything like this place as the deer escorted them deeper and deeper into the woods, with the trees growing closer and closer. They eventually stopped as the deer instructed them to stand on what was honestly, for lack of a better term, a gigantic leaf. A leaf that appeared to grow out of a gigantic wooden wall. Looking up, all that could be seen was darkness as the leaf was entirely enclosed by trees. His confusion was replaced by trepidation as the leaf seemed to close over on them, and briefly Handy panicked, thinking they had been led directly into some exotic cousin of the venus fly trap.

The leaf moved and expanded with a wet, organic noise that sounded vaguely like tortured, stretching rubber, lifting them upwards. Their panic subsided as the darkness above them opened up to reveal daylight and the city of the deer. Their escorts chuckled as their dismay turned to awe. To be fair, it was hard not to be impressed by an entirely self-contained, almost entirely organic, fucking arcology in the middle of what was apparently a forest the size of several countries. He didn't even want to think about how much water this placed needed. However much it was, there was evidently enough to go around for all the other trees with change to spare.

Crowds of deer of all sorts – Handy was not up to date on his deer breeds but he was pretty sure he recognised at least one or two – parted as they passed, the busy noise of a city alive suddenly hushed at the presence of interlopers. That was never a good sign. He noticed that the deer did, in fact, possess manes as a rule, meaning the doe contingent of his captors had shaved theirs. The stags did too, meaning the same for the stags in his presence as well. This... made no sense to him. With the occasional exception, he was pretty sure deer back on earth didn't have manes. Wide eyes stared at them, and whispers passed from mouth to tactile ear while their guards chatted amicably amongst themselves and even waved at several deer they recognised in the crowd as if nothing was wrong with the world. Stealing a glance at Whirlwind, he noticed the stag was looking upwards, humming, pointedly not making eye contact with anyone.

Handy took the opportunity to walk closer to Whirlwind, hissing out of the corner of his mouth. “For my sake, I hope thou knowst what thou art doing.”

“Heh, just trust me, I got this,” Whirlwind said, flashing the human a smile and a conspiratorial wink. Handy grimaced but walked on nonetheless.

Their march was interrupted as the crowd parted to make way for a group of deer approaching Handy's contingent from another direction. There were three of them, two rather large stags decked out in proper steel armour that glimmered in the sunlight, iridescent, almost as if the metal were coated in a thin layer of oil. He'd later learn that it was the effect of some kind of enchantment but never found out what exactly. The stags were faceless, their helmets completely encompassing their heads, and their antlers glittered with deadly steel blades. Every scrap of metal had markings of the same flowing script his captors possessed, only written in black instead of blue. The third member, the one at the forefront, was a doe. She possessed similar armour minus the helmet. Most of it, however, was obscured beneath flowing robes that covered her back and flanks that seemed to flow from her gorget and connect to the armour pieces of her lower forelegs. The robes were pure white with a golden trim with the same black writing.

So basically she was either a captain or some kind of battle mage. Handy's money was on both. The doe spoke to Brittlebark in a bright, quick-sounding language. It was lighty, musical, jumpy in parts, like a hare on the run far too quick for Handy to even pretend to follow. It was after they exchanged some amount of words that the doe closed her eyes, as if contemplating, before opening them again with a smile and speaking in Equestrian. English, as it was to Handy.

"Atjay Brittlebark," the doe greeted with a warm, matronly voice. Her tired eyes were ringed and had crow's feet pinching at their edges. Handy wasn't one to judge, but he assumed that if a deer were to age gracefully, she had managed to achieve it. "What have you brought to us this time?" This only served to confuse the human. Surely they had already greeted one another. Why do so again in English for the benefit of the foreigners present?

"Seer Riverblossom," Brittlebark said, inclining his head upwards, a gesture which confused Handy. "I bring good news!"

"Outsiders in the heart of the Whisperwood tribe's home is good news?" Riverblossom asked, cocking her head and putting on an exaggerated, confused expression, eliciting several chuckles from the other guards around Handy's group. The seer's two stalwart guards at her sides were silent and unmoving, however. Brittlebark rubbed the back of his neck and looked abashed.

"Uh, well," he said, gesturing to Whirlwind. "This one vouchsafes them."

"Does he now?" the seer said with a gentle smile, cocking an eyebrow, bright golden eyes scanning the errant stag over before walking over to him. Whirlwind looked noticeably nervous and looked anywhere else other than the doe. "And what brings a prodigal one such as you home, Whirls?"

"...Hello Miss Riverblossom," Whirlwind said. The doe chuckled.

"You are hardly a fawn anymore, Whirlwind. Now come, is it true that you vouchsafe these foreigners?" she asked, glancing casually over at the three of them. 'Crimson' seemed to flinch under her gaze, even though it didn't linger on any of them more than the others.

"I-It is."

"Hm, and why would that be?" she asked, returning her gaze to Whirlwind, who still refused to look her in the eye. She clucked her tongue, smiled, and placed a hoof on the stag's cheek and forced him to look at her.

"...It’s my fault they came to the Greenwoods in the first place," he admitted.

"And why did you bring them here?"

"To... save their lives."

"...And your first thought to keep them safe was these woods of all places?" she asked, disbelief evident in her voice and another confused expression on her face. Nearby deer tried stifling their laughter, to which she gave them a warm smile. Whirlwind looked embarrassed.

"It... was the only option at the time... I used a vortex shard," he said softly. The smile slowly dropped from the doe's face as she let go of the stag. She studied his face for but a moment and then sighed.

"Well, it looks like I won't be needing these anymore," she said, smiling wryly and looking back at her two heavily armoured guards, who again raised their heads up at her before turning and heading off back into the city. Need? What did she need those two for?

"Pardon me," Handy piped up. The doe looked up at him in surprise. "But are you the chieftain?" he asked. She looked at him, stunned, for a moment before breaking out into laughter.

"Oh no, outsider! Perish the thought! She's in the war hall with the others," Riverblossom said.

"Others?" Whirlwind asked.

"There are a few... negotiations taking place. A few tribes are represented there. Nothing too concerning. Just winter, you understand."

"Oh, right, right, winter," Whirlwind said, nodding in understanding. Handy glanced at Jacques, who simply shrugged. "Anyway! I suppose we can see her later and just go straight to gramps!" he said, flashing her a winning smile. Her kind expression did not change, and she slowly shook her head. Whirlwind's ears drooped. "Oh... alright, let’s go see Brightmoss."

"Oh Brightmoss stepped down, wanted to spend more time with his grandchildren," the doe explained. "He's a dear, really, but it is good to have him home more often."

"Then who's the chieftain?" he asked.

Riverblossom's smile widened.

--=--

Bambi.

The chieftain was Bambi.

No. Really. It was basically Bambi. Swear to God. Well, okay, that's not entirely accurate. It was Bambi if Bambi was a doe and didn't lose her spots as she grew into adulthood. But still, Bambi.

"Oh buck me," Whirlwind whispered, wincing visibly as the four of them were escorted into what was presumably the war hall, an immense wooden construction at the heart of a wide, sweeping circular courtyard enclosed by hanging gardens. The building was truly immense, a cathedral built out of wood and some substance that was presumably stone but... clearly wasn't. It was almost as ostentatious as one in its own way. Intricate carvings and designs depicting deer and other creatures covered its entirety, with crossbeams and supports decorated in repeating patterns to break up what would otherwise be an unending image depicting the tribe's history. Oh, they were still in chains by the way. Just in case you thought Whirlwind's vouchsafe let them have unrestricted enjoyment of their limbs.

Jacques, for his part, had spent the better part of the ten minutes it took to walk through the city to get to the war hall sweet-talking the pair of doe guards to try to get his shackles off. Sure it didn't work, given their polite refusals but hey, at least he made two new friends. That was at least two more deer who wouldn't kill them for being outsiders. Thank God for small mercies. Now, you were no doubt wondering as to why Whirlwind exclaimed an exceptionally excellent expletive of exceeding extravagance without extra exhortation.

No? Well you are now.

You see, the war hall was in a mess. Little Miss Bambi was seated on her haunches on a cushion that was, to Handy's disbelief, not made out plantlife. What? He just used a leaf as an elevator – he wasn't ruling out the possibility that everything was a plant. Her back was to the door, her forehoof placed on a wooden table that came to just below her barrel that was shaped rather oddly with tiny protrusions carved out of the wood, several of which looked like clumps of trees, an odd mountain or two, and other strange distinguishing features Handy couldn't make out from his position. It was a long table, and seated around it were at least five other deer, each distinct from each other in their manner of dress and armour, some even with war paint similar to Brittlbark's but in more ornate patterns and more colours.

Also, they were all covered in cake. Spilled milk, breadcrumbs, salads, fruits, vegetables, something that vaguely resembled a bundle of sausages, butter, and more besides were amongst the various detritus of war that littered the war hall and its occupants. All of whom, to a deer, wore serious, dignified, grim faced expressions. One heroic stag was admirably keeping his composure... as a mug hung off of his antler as he, very evidently, remained calm as the steaming contents of said mug were doubtlessly scalding him as it rolled down his fur. The only evidence of any discomfort was that his eye was twitching. Bambi, and the table, were spotless... except for the lampshade on her head.

Handy could not even.

"Are we done for today?" she asked. The other deer conversed with each other for a few moments, murmuring acknowledgements before slowly walking off to various exits out of the utter mess of a room. If that seemed like an unnecessarily rushed exit to you, it seemed that way to Handy as well. Bambi, for Handy had yet to learn her name, stood up, cleared her throat, and turned around. She looked upon the gathered collective with a practised disdain that Handy was all too familiar with seeing in the royal court... or giving himself to certain people who drew too near to his shit list for their good health. Her eyes were a stark bright red, the colour of a ripe apple found in a children's colouring book. It was an intimidating shade that looked immensely out of place on the graceful, gentle features of the doe... an effect that was undermined by the lampshade she wore that she promptly knocked off her head as an afterthought. "You are dismissed," she said simply, her voice the gentle swaying of leaves on a summer's day wind.

The guards, including the ranger who really should have gone back to his duties long before now, promptly tilted their heads skyward in salute before turning and exiting. All except for the seer, who was smiling serenely. Bambi waited for a moment before clearing her throat. "Seer, please escort these others to another room. I will deal with them shortly. I wish to speak to the outcast alone," she said. Riverblossom's smile only grew.

"Oh, I'm not missing this for the world, my little fire," she said sweetly, now fully grinning. The chieftain seemed to wince and spoke through her teeth.

"Grandma, please," she implored, trying to retain her dignity in the face of the three outsiders and the stag who looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

"Go on. Have your little chat. I'll be riiiiight over there," Riverblossom said, striding to the far end of the table at the centre of the hall. Bambi turned and spoke hurriedly in the deer tongue. Riverblossom laughed heartily in reply, a warm, kind laughter before responding. Bambi frowned, then sighed and looked back at Whirlwind, who briefly glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before refocusing his gaze on a really interesting corner of the room that contained absolutely nothing whatsoever. The chieftain walked right up to the stag and lifted her head, looking right up at his face, to the point where he had no choice but to face her scowl. Slowly but surely, that scowl turned into a gentle smile, and her gaze softened.

"Whirlwind?" she asked. The stag swallowed.

"Y-Yeah, Forestfire?" he asked, smiling brightly, hopefully. As if there was a chance, even by the slimmest of margins, that this was leading anywhere other than what you all probably surmised it was going. Forestfire's smile showed her teeth.

Right before her cloven hoof rose and smacked Whirlwind upside the jaw, hard enough to knock the stag to the ground. "TWO YEARS!?" she shouted, the pleasant voice replaced by a feminine roar that chilled the bones. "TWO YEARS AND NOT A SINGLE WORD!? PART OF BEING AN OUTCAST IS YOU OCCASIONALLY ALLOW YOURSELF TO GET REELED BACK IN, OR DID YOU FORGET THAT!?"

"I-uh-b-but, y'see, I uh, I sent letters!" Whirlwind pleaded, holding up his hooves placatingly, "Lots!"

"Aye! To your grandfather! What about the rest of us!?" she shouted at the downed stag, advancing on him. Jacques had almost leaped at the deer the second she struck him had his tail not been firmly held in place by a white magical aura. He looked up to see Riverblossom, balancing her head on her hoof while leaning on the table, shaking her head slowly, smiling genially all the while. "Did you not care!?"

"O-Of course! Of course I cared!" Whirlwind protested

"Oh really?" Forestfire asked, smiling, though her eyes were still furious. "Well, it’s a good thing you kept your promise and visited every once in a while. You know, for important little things like High Summer!?"

"Uh..."

"Or that you'd be there in time for my final rites in the warrior caste."

"Y'see…" Whirlwind rubbed his left forehoof absentmindedly.

"But oh no. You didn't, did you?" She cornered him against a pillar whose carvings depicted a stag and a doe rampant. "You were off gallivanting off by the Black Isles enclave in the east, riiiight by the forest's borders with them and the Equestrians, causing all sorts of havoc."

"That was only a few months ago!" Whirlwind pointed out. Forestfire ploughed on regardless.

"Oh, but you don't think to tell your chieftain about it, no! I had to find out through Elder Wildwood,"

"To be fair!" Whirlwind said, a fragile smile gracing his muzzle. "I didn't know you became chieftain—"

"Exactly my point!" Forestfire's shout practically shook the room.

"What the hell is going on here?" Handy asked. Jacques wasn't paying attention, muzzle scrunched up as he looked up at the ceiling in thought, as if trying to recall something. He turned to Thorax, hoping to make sense of this nonsense. "What is this?"

"Delicious," Thorax responded, eyes-lidded and smiling contentedly, obviously enjoying feasting on the free-flowing emotions running rampant nearby. Handy shook his head. Enough of this bullshit; someone had to be professional about this.

"Pardon me, if I may interrupt—"

"One more word, outsider, and you'll be flat on your backside with a spear where the sun don't shine!" Forestfire spat, pointing at the human with a hoof while not looking away from the terrified stag she was now nose to nose with, staring death into his eyes. Handy put his hand down, unsure of just how to take that threat. On the one hand, he was threatened by a military leader of an entire tribe of deer while in chains. On the other hand, he just got threatened by Bambi. The mental disconnect that caused in trying to reconcile those two facts proved a greater concern than the threat itself.

"L'Île Noire... Oh! Qui, wasn't that when I met you after you were hanging around that mare—"

"Mare?" Forestfire snapped, jerking her head to stare hard at the swordspony.

"Haha! Oh yeah!" Whirlwind materialised by Jacques' side, slipping out from under Forestfire and draping a foreleg across his withers in an instant. Handy blinked. Bastard was fast when he wanted to be. "Oh yeah! The mare who had robbed me!" He leaned oh so slightly nearer to Jacques and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, just loud enough for the other two in their little bandit bundle of four to hear, "and nothing else." Thorax snorted. Forestfire's eyes narrowed dangerously, her mouth slightly open as if she wanted to say something more as she slowly advanced upon Whirlwind again.

"Uh, of course! Mais bien sûr. Hmhm, I remember first meeting you there at the crossroads when she and her bandits jumped you when you so humbly requested your stolen goods back."

"Stolen?" Bambi, destroyer of worlds, asked incredulously.

"Well, I wouldn't say stolen. I mean, I got it all back!"

"True true, I will admit that was a rather impressive display of mag—OW!" Jacques clutched his foreleg in pain. Whirlwind just sat where he was as if he hadn't visibly stomped on his friend's fetlock. His smile thinly stretched and his eyes were wide in fear. Handy could just about make out a surprisingly visible bead of sweat on his forehead. Riverblossom raised an elegant eyebrow at the display.

Handy, for his part, was in between reactions at the moment. On the one hand, this entire situation was ridiculous. These deer were ridiculous. He was tired, hungry, irritable, in chains, his wrist itched something fierce, and no amount of rubbing it against the chaffing metal of his shackles did anything to lessen it. On the other hand, he was enjoying watching someone else go through the wringer for once with immense satisfaction. Although this was hardly what he had been expecting when they were brought to meet Bambi, devourer of souls, chieftain of the Whisperwood tribe. Handy was perfectly willing to stop referring to her as Bambi and mentally giving her overly dramatic titles when her existence stopped being ludicrous.

Forestfire's ground her teeth for a moment before sighing, lowering her head. "We'll talk more about this later..." she said, looking back up at Whirlwind with gentler eyes. “It’s good to have you back, Whirlwind." The stag visibly relaxed, having weathered the storm. He smiled and was about to respond but got bopped in the nose with the dainty yet surprisingly forceful hoof of Forestfire. "But don't think you're getting off that easy! More than a few of us were ticked off you never sent us word! Friends don't leave friends in the dark. What if something happened to you?"

"Hey, I'm careful! There was no chance of serious harm coming to me."

"Well..." Handy said, smirking. "There was that part when the dragon threw you through the air in a burning stadium."

"...What?" Forestfire's voice was like ice.

"Not heeeeelping~" Whirlwind singsonged through gritted teeth.

"I mean, that was how you broke one of the spikes on your antler," Handy said, pointing. Forestfire's eyes widened and she looked up. Sure enough, she spied the damaged antler in question.

"Owowowowow!"

"Hold still!" she called as she grabbed the offending bony protrusion and dragged it, and subsequently Whirlwind's head, down so she could get a better look. "Have you not been taken care of these!?"

"Hey! HEY! Leggo!" Whirlwind protested.

"And what were you doing fighting a dragon!?" she asked.

"Look, it's a long story, alright?" he replied.

"And I am sure we would love to hear it," a new voice added. Right behind Handy. The human jumped. Jacques had a similar reaction. The only one of the three who didn't seem surprised was the changeling who could probably tell the elk was there without turning around. Handy didn't even hear the door open. He was grand, aged-looking elk, with dark grey fur with silvery-white streaks and a long stretch of white fur going from his chin all the way down his neck and across his chest and barrel. His wide, broad antlers were similarly designed to all the other stags and bucks he had seen, with similar intricate, curving indentations all over their surface. Looking closely, it almost seemed as if they formed shapes which changed each time you looked at them, like trying to pick out shapes in passing clouds. Precious metals and jewels hung from them and rattled as he moved. He really should not have been able to sneak up on them at all considering how much noise they made. "But we have more pressing matters to discuss, don't you agree, my chief?" the elk asked, looking pointedly at the human. His piercing blue-white eyes seemed to pierce the cover of Handy's helm and stared right into his soul. The human tried to resist the urge to shiver.

"Elder," Forestfire said, suddenly all business again. Letting go of Whirlwind, the stag suddenly found he didn't have any counter pressure working against him pulling away and promptly jerked his head up and stumbled backwards.

"Grandda!" he said happily, tapping his hooves together nervously. "...Hi!"

"Whirlwind," the elk greeted with a small, tired smile, looking him over. "I see you've been through quite a bit."

"Aheh... heh..." the stag replied, "Yeah. A lot."

"Mmmm, enough that warrants a full debrief, I imagine," Seer Riverblossom said from her spot on the table, idly playing with a small wooden ball between her hooves. "One I'd rather finish as soon as possible. My husband gets irritable when I am out longer than duty recalls."

"You can always just go," Wildwood said. "We can always fill you in later."

"And miss out on two years’ worth of an outer caste's tales? Not on your life, you old goat."

"You wound me, River, but really, let’s not offend the goats with the comparison," the elk replied, sharing a laugh with the battlemage. The elk turned to regard the three non-deer in the room. "And you," he said. "Friends of my grandson, I imagine?"

'I wouldn't go so far as to say that.' "Acquaintances," Handy said, thinking. "We... owe thy grandson our lives." He found that harder to say than he thought it would, if only to play into the narrative Whirlwind spun earlier when they first met the seer.

"And is that all?" the elk enquired, now focusing solely on the human. Handy fidgeted, thinking about the logic of taking out his trump card too early, but if it got him out of these chains sooner, then why not go for it.

"...Well, that is not strictly true. You are the elder of this tribe, correct?" the human asked. The elk raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"That I am, boy," he responded. The chieftain frowned and muttered something about outsiders.

"I was commissioned by one Mister Fancy Pants..." Handy said, testing the waters. He was rewarded by a look of surprise on the elk's face. 'So far so good.' "I was supposed to deliver a certain package to your grandson Whirlwind," he said, pointing at the stag.

"Oh!" Whirlwind said, hitting himself on the head. "I had entirely forgotten! Haha! You were going to give it to me after the tournament!"

"Tournament?" Forestfire asked.

"Correct," Handy powered on. As much as he enjoyed watching the deer dig himself into a hole, he did not care to be dragged down with him and so took control of the situation. "But there were complications." The elk's expression darkened considerably, and Handy briefly wondered if he had chosen wisely.

"Complications?" the old elk asked.

"Nothing that could not be handled, you understand!" Handy said placatingly, holding his hands up. In truth, he was frustrated with this entire scenario, and acting polite was at the bottom of his list of desirable activities. But given his circumstances, acting brash would have been incredibly unwise. "I still have it, here on my very person," he said, gesturing to the pack at his side. The elder looked at it, his expression unreadable.

"Really now?" the elder asked. The seer was by his side now.

"Here. I believe this was important," he said, slowly reaching for his pack. He noticed the stubs on the heads of both the seer and Forestfire glow slightly, evidently preparing an offensive spell. Just in case. "Fancy Pants mentioned he was a friend of Whirlwind's father."

"I thought you said it was from my uncle...?" the stag interrupted, scratching his head. Handy flinched. He had said something to that effect when they first met under the arena.

"A simple mistake of language," Handy covered, thinking quickly. "Equestrian is not my mother tongue, after all." Lies, glorious, salvific lies. Jacques nodded.

"It is true," the swordspony said. "I remember, wasn't your first language as whalegah or something similar?"

"...Yes," Handy said, trying not to cringe at the horrible pronunciation. "It is no matter since I have the object in question here," he said, reaching into his pack, thankful the deer guards were not circumspect enough to remove his or his companions’ packs as they did their weapons. He withdrew the same small, inoffensive, silver jewellery box and presented it to the elder. He just looked at it expectantly for a moment before looking up at the human again. Handy blinked. "Ah, yes, I suppose..." he said, realizing that he was expected to open it. Given that this was a world of magic and he was a foreigner, it was probably just common sense. Beware Greeks bearing gifts as the saying goes.

He opened the small box and pulled the bundle of light silver chains. The chains were interspersed with tiny clear gems that sparkled in the torchlight. "I was—" Handy did not get to finish his sentence, for the faces of all the deer, bar Whirlwind, visibly blanched. Fur be damned, the colour drained from their faces nonetheless. Forestfire jumped to her hooves and barked something in the deer tongue as two jets of flame erupted from her horn stubs. The doors slammed open, and black-plated deer guards rushed in. Handy had just enough time to register something was off before he and the others were tackled to the ground.

This is what you get for having ideas, Handy.

--=--

“Well that went better than expected!” a cheerful Whirlwind chirped. Handy’s mailed fist barrelled into his jaw and, for the second time in as many hours, the stag was sent sprawling to the ground. “Owwww….” he whined.

"Que se passe-t-il!?"

"Oh that's just great."

"You'll handle it, huh!? Trust me, huh!?" Handy shouted, trying yet failing to get up from his seated position from the bed, Jacque's forelegs wrapped up underneath his arms and was surprisingly managing to hold the human back. Whirlwind slowly stumbled to his feet, shaking his head and blinking one eye and then another to get the stars out from his vision. The human was shouting vitriol which was matched by the unicorn's Prench nonsense.

'Crimson' was meanwhile seated on a stool by a vanity, legs hanging over the edge, her tail hanging limply to the floor as she laid her head on the vanity's surface, staring sideways into her reflection, studying a face that wasn't her own and occasionally glancing at the chaos happening behind her head in the mirror. "Five year veteran..." she muttered under her breath. “Top of my class, best infiltrator in my sidhe, made it all the way to Queen's right hoof maiden. Everything mother could've hoped for me." She blew a lock of her mane out of her face and gently massaged a black eye that was unfortunately all too real from when they were forcibly removed from the hall. She idly looked up, seeing the three of her companions bellowing and bickering and blaming. All the while they were the prisoners of the famously reclusive deer, in the middle of a forest from which no changeling had ever returned on a mission, and with no clear means of carrying out, except that their quarry was after the biped she was now foalsitting. "Stallions... How is this my life? "

"How was I supposed to know you were trying to deliver me the crown of winter?" Whirlwind asked

"I described it to you! In detail!"

"Well to be fair, I never actually saw it before so—"

"It’s your people’s most important cultural relic!" Handy exclaimed.

"Mes amis, calm!"

"Fuck you, you flipping French fop!"

It continued like that for a while until they had all tired themselves out shouting and getting on each other's bad sides and sat at various points of the room. It was a cramped but immaculately appointed room, and like most everything, it was all wood and richly decorated with carvings over almost all surfaces. There was hardly an uninteresting part of the room to look at. Apparently, when placed under house arrest, they were done so literally, locked up in a house, specifically this one windowless room. Their hosts even felt fit to remove the by-now dried leaves that had been wrapped around the party's horns and antlers, granting use of their magic back. That meant they were confident such restraints were no longer needed.

The door opened and they all looked up. Flanked on two sides by black-plated guards, Bambi Doombringer stood there with a piercing gaze that would have been intimidating had she not been... well... Bambi. "After some deliberation, we have determined that you are to be set free," she said, looking at each of them in turn. Her angry gaze and nonplussed expression lingered on Whirlwind for a long, hard moment. "But no leaving the building without an escort."

"Then we are hardly free," Handy pointed out. She shot him an unamused glare.

"Let me make this clear," she said carefully. "As chieftain, the safety of this tribe is paramount. You are outsiders."

"We are hardly dangerous, cher," Jacques chipped in.

"Yes, you are. And even if you were not," she said, turning back to Whirlwind, "the tribesdeer can easily fall into a panic with having outsiders, here, at the heart of their very homes, especially now with winter approaching and the crown having gone missing." She pointed an accusatory hoof at Whirlwind. "This one should have known better." The stag grimaced.

"Hold on," Handy said. Forestfire looked back at him. "Will someone explain to me what’s so earth-shatteringly important about that bundle of chains? At least explain why I had to be tackled to the ground when all I was doing was trying to hand it over?" The doe was tight-lipped and just looked at the human a moment before responding.

"Nothing that concerns you. Just know you have my tribe's gratitude for returning it," she said. Handy scoffed.

"Gratitude!?"

"What Sir Handy means to ask..." Crimson piped up, wearing her more usual dispassionate expression and tone of voice from before Handy had discovered her true identity. Handy looked at her. She spared him a sideways glance before continuing, "is how can we be expected to see being held as prisoners, abused, and then treated as if we were criminals as gratitude?" The doe flicked an ear in annoyance.

"I... apologise for any harsh treatment, but we could not afford any half-measures. Not now," she said. "And... the Elder did insist on allowing you free access to the city, but I can't just allow that. Deer are too scared right now. I have to show that you are seen to be under my watch." Well, at least someone was at least partways competent in all this, even if Handy's first impression of her involved a lampshade on her head. However, while her desire to keep the peace was quite understandable, it didn't mean Handy particularly cared.

"Not good enough."

"I'm... sorry?"

"I said that is not good enough. Dost thou think we are here of our own will?" he said, looking to Whirlwind. "We are here of this deer's volition. We wish only to leave, and to do so, we are brought here to your home." He turned back to Forestfire. "I hath given to thee this crown of winter, whose function I knowst not, and been attacked for my trouble. I demand recompense." The chieftain blinked.

"Recompense? How do you—"

"Help us get out of your forest. With the greatest expediency," Handy said, now standing up. The deer's eyes widened slightly, and several of the others shuffled nervously. "It is the least we are owed, and I believe I have seen rather enough deer for one lifetime. Thou art a foolish, stupid people, inhabiting a cursed forest, and I, for one, am sick of the sight of thee. I wish to leave and never to return."

"Now listen here, human—"

"He-Hey! That’s great!" Whirlwind said. For some reason, he now stood between the human and the angry chieftain. "Glad we could all get that out in the open! Great? Greeeaaat. Listen, Forest," Whirlwind said, putting a hoof on her whither. She turned her harsh glare to him. "We've had a reeeeally long week. Two weeks! Lotta stress. Handy here is just a little short on patience and not feeling all that polite."

'That WAS me being polite, you little—!'

"And we would really appreciate it if you could just accommodate us a bit, you know? Not have guards hovering over our door at all times?" Forestfire glanced behind her at her guards, thoughtful.

"Or actually letting us out the door?" Jacques said disinterestedly, leaning against the foot of the bed. Forestfire shot him a look and opened her mouth to respond. Whirlwind to the rescue!

"Yes! Because, you know, I hope you weren't expecting us all to sleep in this one room tonight!" Forestfire looked between him and Jacques, before looking up at the ceiling, thinking. "Come on, Forest," Whirlwind pleaded, his voice low and friendly, easing off of that chipper edge he perpetually had. "What have we really done, huh? I told you I'd be back, and I am. I brought some outsiders, sure, but they're friends. They brought us the crown. You can trust us. Hell, even Grand... I mean Elder Wildwood thinks so. Why else would he say we could go out and about unguarded? Come oooon."

Forestfire opened her mouth to respond before closing it with a hmph and looking down. She gave Handy an evil glance that he did not care for before looking back at Whirlwind. She dismissed her guards. "Alright," she said, turning back. "But whatever happens is on your head, Whirlwind."

"I accept that responsibility wholeheartedly!" Whirlwind said, placing a hoof over his heart. Briefly, but only briefly, the flicker of a smile graced her muzzle.

"Excellent." She looked at the rest of them. "For now, much as I have stated, you will all be our guests. You'll be housed and shown courtesy and, and I must stress this, you are not to do anything to arouse suspicion that your intentions are anything other than honest. Myself and the elder have agreed to disseminate the fact that the 'foreigners' in our midst were operatives recruited to hunt down the lost crown." Her face seemed stony when speaking that last sentence. "It is imperative that deer believe that your presence was known about and accounted for. Understand?"

"Why?" Handy asked.

"It’s... just a dangerous time to be in the forest. Deer need to be reassured." She was dodging the issue, and Handy was beginning to get quite annoyed. On the one hand, he wanted to know what the hell the fuss was about, but on the other, anything that got him out of here faster was better. And the difference meant shutting his mouth, gritting his teeth, and putting up with the bullshit.

"Fine... I agree to your terms. Crimson?" Crimson blinked and looked at him in surprise.

"Me?"

"Yes, thee. Thou wilt abide by the good chieftain's rules?"

"I uh...” Crimson stuttered, a bit taken aback by the human's suddenly turning of the conversation. "Yes. Yes of course! Sir. Ahem."

"Good, now if that will be all, may I have my possessions returned to me?" Handy asked, wearing an imperious expression. Forestfire narrowed her eyes at him. Whirlwind raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" she asked, very carefully.

"Because they’re mine?" Handy asked, lightly cocking his head and raising an eyebrow in an intentionally irritating gesture. It seemed to get through.

"...Very well," she said, clearly nonplussed. Jacques seemed to perk up as he caught on to what the human was doing.

"Ah! Qui, yes, perhaps I might have my sword back? It’s rather important to me," he said, flashing a winning smile. The doe flicked an ear in annoyance before nodding slowly.

"Merci, mademoiselle. Heureux de voir que mon ami tourbillon a un bon goût chez les juments ... même si vous êtes une chienne coincé."

"What... What did he say?" she asked. Whirlwind shrugged.

"Only an expression of my gratitude, madame." Jacques smiled. Handy walked to the door, passing the doe and walked out into the hallway.

"Hey, wait, where do you think you're going?" Forestfire called

"Out of that room. We're free, right?"

"WH—Well yes, but you aren't to leave the building without an escort!"

"Then escort us!" Handy called back, walking on, relishing in imagining the fuming look on the doe's face. Try to imagine a furious Bambi. Go on, do it.

...

Couldn’t keep a straight face, could you?

Neither could Handy.

--=--

The deer talked to the forest.

It was not aware, but that did not stop it from listening. It responded when they willed it, growing, extending, moving, and shaping according to their whims. Their magic was such that they rarely had to vocalize their will for the forest to bend to it, such was their power, such was their intimacy. Theirs was the Hartsight. Theirs was the power of life, of creation, of the spring of youth and the defiance of death. Theirs was the treasures of joy and song. Their gift was the forest and so too they to the forest, for without the forest, they would have no home to call their own, and without them, the forest would become something it should never be.

Yet not all magic was the same.

Not all magic came from the aetheric winds. The deer’s power came from the raw power of the forest, from the Fraying upon which it grew for a thousand, thousand years. Their magic was borrowed; it did not function beyond the forest's borders. From a pact of blood and ice was winter's fury calmed and the deer given mastery of the forest and protection of those that dwelt within. Their Hartsight was a gift that allowed them to see beyond sight, the living energy of the forest and the shadows of what lurked within, of what did not belong, of what ought to be expelled, and what ought to be avoided. Even so, with their control and their power, there were yet things that they did not know nor understand. The forest yet held mysteries that were beyond even their joyful stewards.

Not all magic was the same and not all secrets were the deer's to share. One would think, with the sheer weight of this reality upon their shoulders, the fate of a super-large forest and all its inhabitants in their hooves, constantly surrounded by unknown terrors of the woods and fractiousness between the numerous deer tribes, that these would be the most dour, grim-faced people one could ever have the misfortune of meeting.

Nope.

They were instead infuriatingly joyful and excitable all the time, all day, every day, which Handy experienced first-hand and had no escape from. See, the chieftain, Bambi, she of petty revenge, had placed them in one of the Oakenhearts, specifically the Hishym of Greenmoss. Hishym was the local name given to those odd town districts that seemed to simply hang from the sides of the immense trees. Now, Handy was no stranger to impressive architecture. Backwards and schizophrenic everyone in this world seemed to be when it came to technology, these assholes took architecture fucking seriously, be it the changeling city, Skymount's mountain castle, or Canterlot's oneupmanship in the form of its own mountain city. That was architecture he could understand, impressive beyond belief, yes, but he could well believe they were constructed. Some people thought those who lived before the twentieth century, with rare exceptions, were ignoramuses incapable of anything comparable to modern marvels. These people were philistines, and it was a fool who was dismissive of a people who, with sufficient motivation, could build mountains.

Even so, the fact that the deer were capable of creating several stories buildings placed upon a horizontal platform growing out of the bark of a stupidly huge tree with no supports made Handy just a touch bit nervous. Well, okay, as nervous as one could be when, in order to even reach said Hishym, they had stepped into an oval-shaped room that had simply appeared when a deer knocked on the Oakenheart's wall at its base three times. The wall had simply... opened with a sound of wood under strain, not unlike the sounds his airship made from time to time when he had flown on it. A seam in the wood appeared and expanded into a rounded entrance, allowing their entrance. The room, for he did not know what else to call it, was filled with knee high blue plants, with excessively large and wide leaves, the walls and ceiling covered in moss and creeping vines like capillaries. Tiny lights floated lazily in the air, tiny spherical lights that, when observed closely, had six spindly limbs more akin to wire with infinitesimally thin, almost transparent, wings.

The entryway had shrunk shut behind them and their escorts. For a time, they had just stood there, awkwardly, waiting for something to happen until the entrance had opened again. And there they were. A hundred feet in the air. They had traversed that distance, quietly, quickly, and without the slightest hint of inertia in the fastest, creepiest elevator Handy had ever experienced. The rest of them found it all charming, enchanting almost. Handy was more unnerved than anything else and was in no hurry to repeat the procedure of being swallowed by a tree anytime soon. Sadly, in his quest to think about anything but said experience, he struck up conversation with one of the guards.

He had regretted it since.

"For the last time," Handy said with an exasperated sigh as the four of them plus two guards walked up a steep incline between several tall buildings. Local townsdeer watched them pass, curious about the strangers in their midst, "I do not know how my armour works. I had it made for me. I do not know the magic."

"But Shadowfire said you'd teach her!" the overly high-pitched doe guard with the woad tattoo on her face whined. The tatoo two straight lines going from her cheeks, over her eyes, and coming to a point on her forehead. A horizontal line connected the lines underneath the point, creating a small triangle with three spheres contained within. One was just a circle, another a circle half-filled in, and the last a complete, white spot. It was probably some arcane symbol Handy couldn't begin to give a shit about that brought out her bright green eyes. For a brief moment, he was reminded of the striking eyes of the thestral from the tournament, and he had to shake the thought from his head.

"I was intentionally being sarcastic. I had no intention to teach the spell because I genuinely don't know the spell."

"Awww, but I was hoping to learn the magic of the fah-gut-tree."

"Fa— Okay, look," Handy said, stopping to turn to the deer. "That was a joke. There's no such… I mean it isn't... There is no such spell." The doe just pointed at him.

"But I saw you earlier! There's definitely a spell!

"Doesn't mean I know it."

"That’s stupid. Who wears enchanted armour without knowing what magic is in it?"

'Well apparently I do,' Handy thought, ignoring the pouting doe as they continued making their way to one particular building. It was wooden. Of course it was made of wood. Everything was made of fucking wood. Much like everything else, however, the building had a rounded, sloping roof going down one side. Corners were made up of stout dark wooden columns, with lighter wood forming the walls. Ivy and plant life grew along the walls, and the building was seamless, seemingly having grown out of the ground. A closer inspection revealed it to be merely exceptional craftsmanship. The interior was spacious, with wide doorways and high ceilings. The does' magic lit up, and covered lanterns set high up on the walls came to life. They were informed that these were to be their quarters for their stay here. They would be left in peace but were not to leave the township without an escort, so no sneaking off on the great bridges that connected the oakenherts and the towns that lived on them. Or the ones inside of them as Handy learned later.

Well, not as if they could object since the only other options they had to get out of here was opening up the organic express elevator, which none of them bar perhaps Whirlwind could do. Or you know, jump. And only Thorax had wings. The house was sparse but had a surprising amount of amenities including, of all things, a fireplace. In a wooden house. Hanging from a tree. In a forest. Either the deer had the best fucking fire service in existence or they were just insanely lucky to have not burned everything down by now. In fairness, the fireplace was constructed from stone and brick. Having gotten so used to seeing nothing but forest and wood, Handy had expected deer homes to be something akin out of fantasy novel, like some race of elven hippies who slept on grass and whose homes were covered in all the wonderful filth of nature. Nope. Turned out the deer liked their creature comforts as much anyone else, thank you very much.

Not particularly keen on spending any more time with the others, Handy promptly fucked off. Taking a few steps up a flight of stairs, he paused, looking out a small, round window at the bend in the stairs. His view was partially covered by ivy, but he noticed a number of deer passing by looking up at the house. A few had even stopped and were openly staring and talking. A member of one group noticed the human looking out and nudged the others, and they quickly made themselves scarce. Bambi's words came back to him then. These deer were, well, skittish, more so than what he was used to. Outside the forest, people tended to avoid him or get out of his way because of his reputation. Here? They did it simply because he was different. Because they were all different. He didn't know what was going on, both why the crown was important or why it was so important he did nothing to contradict whatever fabricated story the chieftain was feeding the tribesdeers about him and the others being outside agents recovering the crown. And in truth, a large part of him simply didn't care anymore. He was just too tired of everything. But that little moment of clarity, watching the deer hurriedly move on like that...

He shook his head. No. It didn't matter. Fuck 'em. Their problems were theirs to deal with, and he wanted out of here probably more than they wanted him gone. He would leave them be and hoped the same in return. He trudged up the stairs to be met with another corridor that had six doors. Choosing one at random, he opened it to reveal a simple room. It was small, just big enough for a side table with an unlit candle, a window with blue drapes that was currently closed, and the piece de la resistance, another too-small bed. Looking around and satisfied that there was nothing else and no chance of any nasty surprises, he closed the door behind him and closed the latch. He allowed his shoulders to slump.

His feet ached and he was hungry, but his exhaustion took precedence and he needed to get the fucking weight of his armour off of him. It had been a long week no matter how you looked at it, and for now, he was just glad to be on his own again. He managed to struggle out of his cuirass and pauldrons and began to work on his greaves, which required him to sit down. As soon as he sat on the bed, the battle was lost. When he said that he was sold on the 'soft beds' argument Whirlwind proposed, he hadn't thought he was serious because Jesus, he practically sank into it. It had just the right amount of give and bouncy firmness. His chainmail clinked like a thousand coins as he let himself fall back, flumping on the bed, his task forgotten as the world was consumed by the soft, blankety comfort that was the bed. Handy liked beds, once upon a time associating them with the one consistent and reliable comfort of sleep. Something he had a lot of trouble achieving night after night recently.

Now, however, he already felt his eyes growing heavy, the soft light drifting in from underneath the closed drapes of the window doing nothing to keep him awake as he began drifting away. The noise of his companions in the rooms below him faded into nothing and was drowned out as his senses slowly dulled. The regrets, the hateful thoughts, the existential fear he experienced when he contemplated the oblivion he went to every time he closed his eyes, which kept him up at night, all of it disappearing, ceasing to matter as once more he slipped into the black.

--=--

Knock, knock, knock.

'Oh, hello there Mister Over Exhausted Headache, how are you doing today?'

Knock, knock.

'Oh I'm just fine. Well, until you came along that is.'

Knock knock knock.

'So how have you been since that one time at the student's union? How's the wife Miss Migraine?'

Knock.

'Why yes, I have been getting to know your daughter, Hangover, a lot more recently. What? Sir, I swear I never laid a hand on her!'

Knock knock knock.

'...Much.'

Kno—

"WHAT!?" Handy shouted, opening the door to an alarmed yet smiling, Whirlwind.

"Handy!" He shut the door. "Hey! Come on!" Handy didn't listen as he just sat back on the bed with a grunt. He felt stiff and his shoulder popped when he moved his arm. Chainmail may be miles more flexible than plate but sleeping in it was still a stupid idea.

"Piss off, Whirlwind," Handy said.

"Look, the others and I were a little bit worried about you," Whirlwind's muffled voice came through the door.

"Uh huh," Handy muttered, rubbing an eye with a palm before rubbing his left wrist absent-mindedly, yawning.

“I mean, sure we had our rough spots lately...”

“I decked you in the face.”

“Yeah, that! And I tooootally get why you’d want to do that!” the stag said. Handy could vaguely hear him mutter something else, but it didn’t translate well through three inches of wood. “But you’ve kinda been up here a while…” Handy blearily looked at the window. Nope, still closed, still that half-light of early evening sneaking in under the cover of the drapes. He must’ve only gotten a wink of sleep. Not that he could tell really.

“It’s still late, leave me be. I’ve hardly been up here an hour,” Handy replied.

“...You’ve been up here a whole day and a half.”

There was a moment of silence, then the sound of the door being unlocked. The human poked his face out to look at the deer, an owlish expression on his features “What?” The stag looked up at him, smiling as always. If Handy didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn that broken spike on his antler had grown a bit.

“Yeah, you’ve been in there all day… and all last night… and probably most of this evening if I hadn’t knocked.”

“I...really?” Handy asked, rubbing his eyes with a hand. Had he really slept so long?

"Yep! Kinda scary actually. You sick?"

"I... no. Why do-dost thou care?" Handy stammered, his brain only firing on half its cylinders.

"Oh, you know, we're buddies!" he said, fore legs spread wide. Handy stared at him with a deadpan expression. "...Or not. Yet. Look." Whirlwind's smile fell away and he gave the human a more genuine, gentle smile as his joyful tone dropped to a more conversational one. "I know it hasn't been the greatest, house arrest and all, but I really, really need you guys to trust me. This is my home town. I know these deer best, and honestly, you popping out with the crown? Best thing that could've happened to us, heh. Ol' Forestfire's version of events has got around, so we shouldn't have any more trouble here… though she seemed oddly sad when she came around today." Handy wasn't paying that much attention, instead rubbing his ear to scratch an annoying itch.

"And exactly how long are we staying here? How are we getting out if we're so deep in the woods?"

"I....don't.... really know?" he said, smiling hopefully as his ears dropped. Handy just glared at him. "But I can find out!" he said, hooves up defensively, "Forestfire can talk to the seer caste. Her grandmother's well respected, so I'm sure we can find some magic solution!" Handy grounded his teeth. Whirlwind cast a quick glance around. "So uh... not gonna be a problem, is it?"

"What?"

"Uh.. remember back in the uh... the arena, the whole thing with the pony and the..." Whirlwind clacked his teeth together twice to emphasise his point. Subtle. Even so, it took Handy a moment to get it. He did a quick calculation in his head. Nope, still had a few days of feeling like an ordinary human. No urges, his body not going out of its way to make him painfully aware of how much... food was available. Once that was over, he had another whole week before the thirst got loud enough that it was in everybody’s' interest that he sorted it out.

"Not going to be a problem," he lied. Whirlwind brightened considerably.

"Great!"

"...Jacques?" Handy asked very carefully.

"What about Jacques?" the stag asked, taking him a minute to understand Handy's unspoken intent. "Oh! Yeah, he has no idea; thought it might be something you'd resent me talking to people about willy-nilly."

"Mm." Handy grunted before asking, "And about me hitting thee, thou art not mad?"

"Oh, I'm livid!" Whirlwind said with a bright smile. "But I'm putting that behind me. Heat of the moment, you know? I'm a big enough deer to overlook all that."

"How noble of thee."

"I know, right?" he said without a hint of irony, "Anyway, me and Jacques are having a game on the balcony."

"We have a balcony?"

"The deer who own this building have a balcony!" Whirlwind said happily. "But yeah, we're having a game. Want in?"

"Why?"

"Well, what else are you going to do tonight?" Handy turned and looked at his dark room, then back at the stag.

"Probably just stay here... probably get some food."

"Well, we have one of those two things!" the stag said. "Come on!"

"Where's Th—Crimson?" He rubbed his eyes. "My ponyservant."

"Her room. She's not feeling well apparently." The deer gestured behind him towards another of the doors. Handy's eyes narrowed.

"I see. I'll... I'll take you up on your offer. I'll be along presently." He made a motion to close the door. Whirlwind smiled again before heading off. Handy waited until he heard his hoofsteps fade away before exiting his room. He knocked on the door Whirlwind had indicated. "Crimson? Open up."

There was no immediate response. He raised his fist to knock again before a rather haggard-looking pony poked her head out. "What?" Her tone was distinctly the opposite of cheerful. Her mane was a frazzled mess, she had bags under her eyes, the blackened one noticeably so, and she was sniffing. Handy blinked.

"Uh, I heard you were ill?"

"What’s it look like?"

"...Fair point. I just thought—"

"You thought what?"

"...Nothing. Get some... get some rest I guess."

"Heh, and sleep a day away like you?" she jibed. Handy frowned at her. "I'll be fine, Heartless, just leave me be." She began to close the door before opening it wide again. "And no more causing trouble! I don't feel keen on getting another hoof to the eye," she said before closing the door. Handy was left inarticulate as he tried to form a rebuke to that. He had thought it was the changeling who was up to something that might get them in trouble, using sickness as a ruse, only to find a very sick-looking pony indeed giving him shit for causing trouble before and politely telling him to bugger off via door slam. He was about to knock again before pulling away reluctantly. No, fuck it. Better leave her be. Who knew, he might accidentally catch whatever she had.

An irritating itch drew his attention to his wrist again and he rubbed it, idly noticing his gauntlet was still on his right hand. Briefly, he thought to redon his armour before deciding to forego it. He removed his gauntlet and vambraces, his arms feeling much freer without their restraining presence, and dumped them on his bed. He double-checked to make sure his everything was present in his side pack, including a rapidly flashing changeling pendant. Looked like Queenie dearest was getting a mite agitated. He afforded it a smile before packing it away at the bottom of the bag. She could damn well wait.

He left the room and proceeded to go find the stag and the unicorn. If nothing else, it would be a way to pass the time.

--=--

Handy learned several things that day.

Hooves, in no way, proved a deterrent to holding a hand of cards. Another thing he learned was that this world, despite all logic and reason screaming that it should not be so, had poker. Albeit, it was a version of the game that had its own quirks and rules and different cards, but it was basically poker with a fancy hat to anyone who cared to look. He also learned he was fucking terrible at it. Behold, Handy the Heartless, consummate liar and deceiver of nations, he who could stand in front of vaunted pony princesses and maintain a facade, who faced down dragons and knights and overturned a kingdom... couldn't keep a poker face to save his life.

It was a different story when one sat at a table and cards were at stake. Really, it was. That was Handy's excuse and he was rolling with it. See, one would think that as wide-eyed and full of expressions as ponies, deer, and everything else was in comparison to, say, a human, one would think being able to pick up a 'tell' would be easy. To an extent, that assumption would be right. Humans communicated a profound amount of information through the subtlest of body movements, their eyes more so, and it was all incredibly minute. Ponies, just as much, but it was often more exaggerated, more energetic, indeed, more obvious. If anything, the only reason a human would have difficulty 'reading' a pony would be more to do with information overload and properly getting used to them to be able to associate meaning to body language. Facial expressions were the easiest to read. Griffons were more alien and a tad harder to read, what with their avian features, but much that was applied to ponies could be applied to them. Deer? Same thing. The main problem was getting the energetic bastards to sit still. For them to read a human, it was a much harder ball game. Their movements were at once stiff yet fluid, possessing, to their perspective, a stillness and ease of movement that was frankly otherworldly. The fact that it was otherworldly helped in that regard. It essentially meant that Handy, even had he done nothing and possessed no reputation, even if people got over their initial xenophobia of him, would still unnerve people at least in part by his presence. It couldn't really be helped.

So it spoke volumes that he was completely failing to read Jacques and Whirlwind and they were doing a bang up job of picking up on his tells. Jacques, for his part, was making deliberate motions, never really sitting still, completely ruining Handy's ability to interpret what was a tell and what was the gregarious pony just faffing about. He also got his hooves on a new hat. It was a black cap with the brim folded up, coming to a point at the front. A red feather pierced it, giving it a splash of colour. He fiddled with it from time to time. Whirlwind? That fucker just didn't keep still at all. It seemed, when it came to poker at least, those that knew what they were doing were well aware of their exaggerated expressions and capitalised on it, increasing their motions rather than minimising them. Handy had kept as still as he could. More often than not when he was unsure, he'd fall into a routine: rubbing his stubble, stroking the goatee, scratching his wrist, muttering under his breath. It didn't take the other two long to pick out his odd behaviour for what it was.

After the third dealing of cards and the third time Handy lost an immeasurable amount of non-existent coinage, he just let his head slam into the table as he groaned. Jacques laughed. "Oh cheer up, my friend! You are not doing so bad for a beginner."

"Mmmflrghl..."

"Welllll, if this had been a real game, I would have cleaned you out long ago, it is true. Aurait probablement gagné ce marteau éclatant hors de vous trop..."

"Fhios agat, má tá tú ag dul a choinneáil ag caint i Fraincis,” Handy began, tapping the table with a finger. “Tá mé ag dul chun tús a chur ag labhairt i dteanga aon duine eile anseo labhraíonn freisin, ach a ainneoin agat."

"Quoi?"

"I was saying what's the deal between Whirlwind and Bambi?" Handy said, raising a finger to gesture to the stag who held a bundle of salad in a hoof, somehow, partway to his open and waiting mouth. His eyes opened and he looked, ironically, like a deer in headlights when the conversation shifted to him.

"Huh?"

"Ah, I did notice some odd tension between you and the... Bambi?"

"Forestfire," Handy corrected

"Qui, the beautiful doe," Jacques said.

"Forestfire?" Whirlwind said. Jacques nodded. Handy, he whose face was one with the wooden table and three playing cards depicting a three of blades, a two of emeralds, and a princess of hearts, merely muttered some incomprehensible affirmation. "Oh right, hehe, yeah, that was a bit of a surprise," he said, eating his bundle of salad and pushing the bowl across the table. "Haven't seen her in years; knew her since fawnhood. Great friend."

"She seemed rather pissed at thee," Handy pointed out. Whirlwind chuckled.

"Well okay, I did kinda sorta promised her and the guys I'd drop back in once in a while and maybe visit around High Summer. Big holiday around here.... Kinda uh... forgot."

"Forgot?" Jacques asked, a knowing smirk on his face. Whirlwind shrugged.

"I was having a blast, can you blame me? Besides, I'm here now; not sure what’s she's so angry about," he said dismissively. Handy grunted in agreement before a question came to him.

"Outcast."

"Hm?"

"She called you an outcast. If that’s true, how could she expect you to come back at all? Weren't you banished?" he asked, turning his head ever so slightly to look up at the stag with one eye. Whirlwind blinked at him before tapping the base of his antler with a hoof in comprehension.

"Oh! You think— Oh no, nononono. I'm not an outcast; I'm an outer caste."

"What?"

"Means I am part of the caste that goes outside the forest," Whirlwind said. "We explore the world and keep the tribes up to date with what’s going on beyond the forest. We're often the first to learn of threats to it. Tribal lines blur outside the forest so that we can warn anydeer of a threat without worrying about old grudges surfacing."

"Deer have castes?" Jacques said. Whirlwind nodded vigorously.

"Oh yeah, old tradition. I was originally scribe caste. Mother was magus caste, but I was born a stag, so off to learn how to use the quill I went."

"Why?"

"Tradition mostly. Magic is a doe's dominion."

"I thought all deer could use magic?" Handy asked.

"Oh we can, but there's a difference between using Hartsight to talk to the forest and levitating things and casting fireballs and enchanting."

"What difference?"

"Ovaries usually," Whirlwind said with a roll of his eyes.

"So is it taboo? For somepony like you to cast spells I mean? Is that why you kicked me when I mentioned it in the war hall?" Jacques asked, rubbing a foreleg. Whirlwind held up a forehoof and wobbled it back and forth in an 'ehhh' gesture.

"There's exceptions to every rule, but I wasn't one. Deer don't have Hartsight beyond the forest, so that I could use magic outside of it... kinda not a question I want to answer, get me?"

"Not really. The hell is Hartsight?" Handy asked.

"Tell you later, long story."

"I was under the impression that castes weren't something one could change as one changes their hats..." Jacques said.

"Oh it wasn't." Whirlwind said shaking his head, "Buuuut there's ways, and means and I won't lie, I gilded a few hooves to ease my way. Forestfire is a good friend, she and few others in the warrior caste pulled a few strings, a couple good words here and there and I managed to make myself one of the exceptions."

"Mmmlrghul"

"Sure, whatever you said! Heh, okay, I keep forgetting you aren't deer." Handy couldn't possibly imagine why, "Okay look, it seems weird to you, but we deer are reeeeaaaallly big on tradition."

"That's not too weird..." Handy commented.

"But we also really love seeing how far we can bend the rules! All of us!" Whirlwind said.

"If you find your own traditions that constraining, why do you keep them?"

"Because there's no fun in breaking the rules if there are no rules! That's just stupid." Handy turned and just glared at the stag, trying to determine if he was serious. So basically the deer were traditionalist as balls, yet at the same time, equally as flippant and likely to break their own rules, encouraged to, expected almost. Apparently the worst you could do was get caught. Then, if logically the system continued for the next generation to have a crack at it, deer then reinforced their traditions as they get older because why not? Handy just rolled back over on top of his face.

"Mmmlrghlrm..."

"So basically I spent years training with the other rangers and warriors. Eventually, grandfather was pressured by some deer to do something about me, so he talked with the chieftain. It’s how I got outcast, where all the really obvious troublemakers get sent."

"Why?"

"Because then we're the rest of the world's problem!" he said, extending his forelegs wide. Handy found that entirely believable, honestly.

"And Forestfire?" Jacques brought the question back.

"Yeah, she was always protective of me. Like the big sister I never had, which is odd since she's younger than me about a year or two," Whirlwind said, holding his hoof out. "She's just ticked I was away for so long. Oh and going about and worrying her like that, Handy," Whirlwind admonished. "Thanks, she really didn't need to know about that tussle with the dragon."

"You're welcome," Handy said through the table.

"You seemed awfully insistent on not mentioning a certain mare."

"I said she's protective." Whirlwind shrugged, shuffling his cards for another round. Handy did not want to think about how he did that with hooves, he just did, and no matter how he glared, they refused to bend to his interpretation of reality. "She was always like that, kept me clear of 'loose does' or some such. Really got on my nerves sometimes, but I couldn't really stay mad at her."

"Uh huh." Jacques took a drink from his third cup of whatever excuse for alcohol these deer produced. It was a tasteless, clear thing so close to water that initially Handy actually thought that was what they were drinking. "And nothing else?"

"Hm? No, why?" Whirlwind asked, tossing out the cards for another game. Handy's cards bounced off the top of his head, their furious, fickle, laminated folly futile against the ferocious defence of his fearsome follicles. Handy just turned up and looked at Whirlwind.

"Really? Not just a little bit weirded out she is so insistent on you?" Jacques said, narrowing his eyes at the stag, his smile just that bit wider.

"Well, like I said, it’s annoying," Whirlwind said, waving a hoof dismissively. "How's a guy supposed to find a good doe when his friend actively blocks all of them. I mean, why!? I just don't get it. You'd think as a friend she'd want to see me be happy. I mean yeah, I'm not the most tied down stag around and it’s probably best I don't go breaking any hearts until I get a tad more settled, but come on. You think that's it? I mean aside from mothering over me because of a busted spike on my antler."

'This can't be for real,' Handy thought, slowly turning around and looking at Jacques in turn. 'He can't be serious. He has to be facetious...' Jacques glanced at Handy's expression and his amused smirk nearly broke into a laugh.

"Anyway, I'm gonna get some more salad," Whirlwind said, tipping the empty bowl over, looking into its empty depths forlornly. "You guys want anything?"

"I'm good." His traitorous stomach disagreed. "...Okay, I'm not good. I'll have some salad too... I guess," he said, not looking forward to the unidentifiable vegetation that made up deer cuisine, but he was fucking hungry

"More of this fine wine, s'il vous plaît," Jacques said

"Right!" Whirlwind said, pushing from the table and trotting off. Deer trot, right? It was what Handy was calling it anyway. His hoofsteps disappeared into the building, leaving the two of them there in the relative silence of the evening. The balcony was lit up by bright lanterns, attracting midges and other small insects. The hishym was silent as most deer made their way either to their homes or to whatever taverns the deer had. They were high up, and the oakenhearts were far enough away for the forest to appear simply black. The distant lights of the flowers and hishyms of the other oakenhearts and the lights of the city on the 'ground' below contrasted with the blackness of the canopy above that blocked out the real sky, giving an impression of hanging upside down, as if one were falling into the stars of the night sky while looking 'up' at the shadowed ground of the earth 'below'. It was beautiful but very surreal to experience.

"Love is beautiful, non?" Jacques said at last.

"If you say so," Handy said. No one could ever accuse Handy of being sharpest tool in the social shed, but that was painfully obvious. Also, being in the same room of a really contented-looking changeling observing the fracas was enough to clue anyone in. "Kinda sad," he said half-heartedly. That was what Jacques wanted to hear, right? Right. Sooner he could float through this conversation, the sooner Whirlwind got back with food. If he wanted to talk about a girl who was so deep in the friendzone that even her would-be paramour of years was blatantly unaware of her affections, well, who was Handy to stop him?

Handy. That was who he was. He had every right to stop him. He just didn't really have the energy right now.

"Oh don't be such a bore!" Jacques said. "Liven up! It’s all in good fun. I for one am glad my friend has someone so keen on him. A bit dense, but eh, what can one do?"

"Mmm," Handy mmm'd.

"Ah, but if only I could find someone like that..." Jacques said. "Never could find a mare." That actually made Handy pause. He turned back up to Jacques.

"Thou courts everything on four legs," Handy pointed out,

"Well, not everything." Jacques laughed. "Just beautiful mares."

"And yet thou complainst about not being able to find anyone? A bit shallow, are we not?"

"Pardon?"

"Thou hast just admitted thou fancies all the women that float your way, yet thou waxes about not finding one who is after thee like Forestfire is for Whirlwind. But thou limits thyself on physical attraction alone?" Handy asked, actually leaning up off the table with a card stuck to his cheek which promptly fell off and floated to the floor, lonely and forgotten, and he took a drink. "Is it not a tad shallow?"

"Oho! You misunderstand me, mon ami. All mares are beautiful!" Jacques said, leaning back in his chair, because fuck posture Handy guessed. "I am more than happy to treat any mare well." Handy gave him a dark look for a moment, snorted, and took another drink.

"Right, so thou art just a 'player.'"

"A what?"

"Thou just seduces and use women then movest on. Thou does not sound too dissimilar t—"

"Vous osez m'accuser de tels usure! Je n'aurais jamais traiter une jument avec un tel manque de respect! Même de suggérer je voudrais juste tromper une jument juste d'avoir mon chemin avec elle!"

"Sea, Coinnigh ag caint Fraincis, buachaill lile. Níl mé ag dul chun tuiscint agat ar bith níos fearr."

"Speak Equestrian!"

"Fine. If you do so too," Handy said. Jacques gave him a furious look before clearing his throat.

"I never use mares like that. Ever," he said pointedly.

"Oh? Then why else would thou go around from woman to woman like that?"

"Why not?" Jacques said, pointing a hoof at the human. He then smiled gently as his gaze drifted away. "Ah, it is quite a lot of fun. Good company too! I won't deny that I enjoy it immensely. But I never go that far, make them think it could go further when it so often cannot." Handy cocked an eyebrow, and he sighed, taking off his hat. "I know how it sounds, but it’s just the way I look out on life, qui?"

"So thou art saying thou dost not look upon them merely as meat?"

"There are a lot of lonely mares out there. Am I so wrong to find them beautiful? Can I not let them know? To take them for a walk and get to know them a little? To let them know they're beautiful, that they're desirable for however long life deems fit to let us know one another?" Jacques swirled the cup in his hooves. "Ah, but I am a stallion of the world. I cannot really stay where they need me. That is why I do not go further. It is not fair, nor is it right."

Handy couldn't say he was entirely in agreement with the pony's outlook on life, but it was marginally better than what he thought it was. Still… "And?"

"Mm?"

"That is all very well and... good, I suppose, but if you live like that, how canst thou complain that none see anything in you? How can you honestly be jealous of Whirlwind?"

"Hmhmhm, Handy, my friend, do you not think I tried?"

"Tried what?"

He didn’t answer. Instead, he just wore a light smile and put his hat back on his head. "Some ponies... just don't seem to be lucky like that. I'll leave it at that," Jacques said, leaning back in his chair again. Handy gave a light grunt in acknowledgement, letting his gaze drift over the cards he had been dealt. He spied the fallen card on the ground, the princess of hearts. Well well well, looked like Whirlwind didn't gather that one up when he cut the deck again. Handy checked to make sure Jacques wasn't paying too close attention. Fortunately, the romantic idiot was gazing wistfully out at the hishym below them. Handy slyly moved his hands, knocking the few wooden chips Whirlwind had managed to scrounge up for them unto the floor. He bent over in his seat to gather them up, quickly shifting the princess of hearts up the sleeve of a chainmail. Now, think what you will of Handy for planning on cheating at cards, but when you're a couple grand worth of imaginary bits in the shitter then you can judge Handy's actions.

"What about you?"

"What?" Handy asked, taken aback by the question. He jumped slightly and hit his head on the underside of the table, causing most of the things sitting on it to bounce. He straightened himself out, rubbing the back of his head.

"Well, we have discussed Whirl's troubles. Moi, tell me, is there a little amor in your life, or are you as Heartless as your name implies?" he asked with a smirk. Handy raised an eyebrow. Was he serious?

"I'd say I'm more than a little preoccupied to worry about such things, Jacques," Handy said, gathering his cards and tapping the table with them, holding them in one hand.

"Nonsense! Surely there must be somepony? Non?"

"There really isn't. I have much more important things on my mind." 'More than you could know...'

"Well maybe not, but you must have seen some beauties in your travels, qui? I hear you're from across the sea. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Then you are a long way from home. You've been to Canterlot, have you not? I hear the mares there are the most elegant in all the world."

"I really haven't looked at anyone in that way. Couldn't really tell thee," Handy said, getting a tad annoyed.

"Why not?" Jacques asked.

"Perhaps because it is rather weird in my culture to look at non-humans as attractive?" Handy said sharply.

"So provincial." Jacques chuckled. "I know most ponies prefer their own kind. It’s only natural, and the nobles usually forbid marriage between families of a different race for political reasons. But you have been about long enough to know that isn't always true. Why would you think it is weird?"

'Because you are a tiny horse discussing love and women with me and that is the weirdest God-damn thing ever?' Handy wanted to say. "Because it is? I really do not see how I need to explain why that it is unusual."

"Unusual, yes, but not unheard of. Come, I am sure even one such as you has at least stopped to admire somepony, even if it was only fleeting."

"Can't say that I have... And I will thank thee for not pressing me on it. Can we not say I am merely uninterested at this time and move on?" Handy asked impatiently.

"But why? Are you embarrassed?"

"What? No."

"...Well what’s wrong then? Are you simply uninterested in mares?"

"No, I find women quite attractive, thank you."

"Then what is the matter? Are you..." Jacques face fell for a minute, growing serious. "Oh, is everything not working to, ahem, standard?"

"...What?" Handy asked.

"Downstairs," Jacques said. Handy just looked at him with a confused expression. "Are your… foundations intact?"

"The hell are..." Handy trailed off, his eyes widening slightly, and he grew inarticulate in his speech as comprehension dawned. He spluttered with indignation at the implication. "How could you— That's not even— Why would you—!"

"Easy easy!" Jacques said, gesturing with a hoof. "It’s just you were acting really weird about this. I thought it might be because something, you know, was wrong and you were just being defensive, not really wanting to talk about it. I didn't mean—"

"Okay, Jacques, let me be clear," Handy said, his voice stern and his eyes narrowed. "I am a perfectly healthy, red-blooded male of my species. That is not the issue."

"Alright alright, I am sorry. Okay, how about you tell me what is the problem then?"

'What’s the gentlest way I could put this...?' he thought before turning back to the pony. "Alright, my kingdom, Milesia, alright?"

"Qui."

"It, and literally every other kingdom I know of before I came to this continent, is full of humans."

"Go on."

"And only humans." Jacques cocked his head at him curiously.

"Truth?"

"Aye," Handy said. "Tell me, Jacques, what dost thou think of animals?"

"Well, they're animals. What is there to think of?"

"What wouldst thou think of someone who had romantic intentions towards one?" Handy asked. Jacques gave him a curious expression, smirking before it fell.

"You're serious?" Handy nodded, and Jacques shuddered. "Not exactly a pleasant thought... Wait, is that why you find it weird? You think of people not of your kind as merely animals!?" he said, indignant. Handy put a hand up.

"No, no, of course not." 'Kinda, sorta, actually' "It is just to emphasise my point, for in our lands, if thou art not a human, then thou art an animal, because there is nought else." 'Also I am not getting into the hornet's nest of explaining our horses to you. Because that was not going to be fun poker conversation.' "When I arrived in Equestria, I was shocked, literally shocked to find other creatures that could talk, let alone, well, run a kingdom. It was strange and alien. Imagine how more shocked I was to learn there were many other races. Ponies, griffons, diamond dogs, dragons, minotaurs, deer... Dost thou think it unreasonable I should be reluctant to consider persons of another species in such light? Even if I see if some of them have little problem with such?"

Jacques stroked his beard for a moment in thought. "Yes," he said. Handy cocked an eyebrow. Jacques shrugged. "I sympathise, for I was once like you in that respect. Heh, I did not even know there were things other than ponies once upon a time. But you are alone in this land, are you not?"

"What?"

"I mean to say you are the only human? At least for a great distance?"

"...Thou couldst say that, yes."

"Well, there you have it then. Unless you want to be alone, that is something you're simply going to have to get over."

'...Well thanks for reminding me I'm all alone in this world, ass,' "I am pretty sure that if I really get desperate, I'll merely return home," Handy said, denying the pony's reasoning.

"It is an awful long way away, and you have commitments here, non?"

"That is neither here nor there."

"Well, it’s not as if you can just hop on the back of a pegasus and just whisk yourself back home at a moment's notice, now is it?"

'Not a pegasus. A unicorn perhaps,' he thought to himself, thinking of Crimson's offer to send him home, contemplating whether it was worth it to just take the offer and damn the consequences. He didn't answer the unicorn's question, and Jacques rolled his eyes.

"Well," Jacques said, draining the last dregs of his cup, "if you're going to be that way, what are human girls like? Perhaps there's some sweetheart of yours back home in Milesia?"

"No, not really," Handy admitted. Briefly, he wondered why he was even entertaining the pony with this, before glancing at his cup. What was this, his third? Weak as it is, it was probably to blame for his loose lips.

“Not even one? Surely they cannot be that bad,” Jacques said. Handy just gave him an unamused look.

“I could describe them to thee, but without an image, I doubt it would even make sense to you.”

“Try me.”

“Imagine someone like me, only curvier.”

“...Uhhh.”

“If thou art having trouble imagining that, then I doubt we’re going to be making any progress with descriptions alone,” Handy said. Honestly, he was not sure what the unicorn had been expecting. Sure, the creatures of this world had human-like features in a lot of ways, expressions especially so. But to find them attractive? Handy really had not given that any thought. They could be cute, he supposed, in an odd way, once you got passed the initial weirdness. Still alien though. He had realized the creatures of this world may at least be open to interspecies shenanigans early on. Back in Spurbay, for just an example, had he not witnessed Joachim trying to beat off mares with a stick over a misunderstanding? He had used that fact to great effect in Canterlot when he was screwing with that purple alicorn. What was her name again? Twirl sputzle something or other? He knew her name began with a T and there was a W in there somewhere. However, there was a difference between playing a part and genuine attraction. That had been purely for the sake of fucking with her.

It wasn't really that he saw them as animals, despite the really obvious reasons why that would be perfectly reasonable. He had known too many of them for too long and had far too often mentally associated Stallion with Man and Mare with Woman to not automatically humanize most people he met. Funny how a petty insistence on his own human terminology reinforced that. Not that he was not racist; Handy was racist as all get out when it came to other species and rather unapologetic for it. He just knew better than to make an issue about it. That said, the idea that he'd find them attractive... nah, that didn't make any sense. Why would he? He'd been on his own a long time now, long before he came to Equestria. He'd have to be here an awful long time before he got that lonely. One did not deprogram one's inhibitions overnight after all. Besides, not as if he'd be here that long if he could help it. He had already gotten one method home secured. He was just unwilling to use it. It would only be a matter of finding another one, and pretty soon this issue, like so many others, would simply become irrelevant.

...

Still. Now that the thought was in his head, he was having trouble evicting it. The more he thought about it, the more things came to mind. Eyes for example, now that he thought about it, there were a few that had caught his notice. And not just because of their oddity. That bothered him. "Why the sudden interest?" he decided to ask, keeping the conversation going while he churned through this little quandary.

"Well, I figured it was worth fishing around. Seeing you two emerging from the bushes the other day, I was curious."

"Us two?"

"You and the little rouge mare."

"Crimson?" Handy asked. Jacques nodded. Handy was silent for a moment before breaking out into a smile. "Aheh, no. No, there's nothing there, God no. Not my type. Not anyone's type."

"Really? Such a shame. I will admit, she always seemed so angry and unfriendly that I had thought to cheer her up. I just didn't want to step on any hooves, à comprendre?"

"Believe me when I say I think you're better off not trying." 'Please just take my word for it. I'm doing you a favour.'

"Perhaps..."

'Thank God.'

"...Perhaps I like trouble, no?"

"...To each their own, I suppose." 'Buddy you have no idea what you’re in for... Actually, come to think of it, if what Thorax implied was true, then how you haven't been tapped by a changeling or two already was beyond me. Still, I am not going to risk exposure because Jacques was going to present Thorax with a tempting feedbag.' "But I do not care for random strangers fraternizing with my servants," Handy said warningly. Jacques waved him off.

"Oh very well. Be a bore," he said.

"Hey guys!"

"Jesus!" Handy jumped in his seat at Whirlwind's sudden, antlered appearance at the table. Jacques blinked rapidly, also taken aback. No one who went about their lives on hooves had any business walking across hard wooden floors that silently.

"What’s up?"

"...Just talking about the lovely view," Jacques said, gesturing at the vista afforded them from the balcony. The stag deposited a couple of bowls of produce in front of the two of them. Handy looked down into the bundle of leafy degeneracy that the deer had the temerity to call food. There was something purple in there and he didn't recognise it, and Handy knew an awful lot of purple things. He was pretty that other thing was a mushroom. Probably. His stomach growled, apparently not keen on arguing the matter. Whirlwind had also very kindly refilled their cups.

"Okay!" the stag chirped. "Ready to begin?" And like that, the unhappy conversation behind him, Handy went to work trying to regain his dignity. By cheating at cards. Because fuck you, that’s why. He was over a thousand imaginary bits in the shitter right now – he wasn't going to let that stand. The game drew on and Handy, for once, felt he got his tells under control since the other two didn't see fit to call him on it. He even managed to sneak the princess of hearts into his hand. The time came to show their hands. Handy, quite pleased to see Whirlwind's losing hand, displayed his quite proudly.

Then Jacques showed his hand which, among other good cards, held all three other princesses.

He smiled.

Handy frowned.

--=--

Sneaking back in was almost harder than sneaking out. She was out of breath, the sheets she had stolen for her makeshift robe dirty and tattered, and the sound of her hoofsteps upon the ground were loud. All too damn loud. It had been easy to remember the patrols of the sentries sent to watch them, to ensure the foreigners in their midst did not try anything, to duck out of her window during a lapse in their watch. Now, having run herself ragged, hugging the shadows of the buildings as she bounded between them and up across the great bridges and walkways of the Whisperwood, through the hishyms that hugged the great oakenhearts and the townships that clung to the bridges, suspended a terrifying distance from the ground with not but the expertly crafted superstructure to support them, she finally made it back.

Checking once, then twice, then again, when she was sure none of the deer could spot her, the changeling allowed her form to sprout a pair of wings, given her the appearance of a mythical peryton as the doe she was disguised as leapt to the air and shot straight into one of the opened windows of the lower building. She did not know which of her companions she could thank for the lack of foresight that left a window wide open, but never look a gift pony in the mouth and all that. She tumbled, knocking over a chair. Something wobbled, fell over, and smashed on the ground. She froze for just a moment, listening. Nothing. She pressed herself against the wall, to the side of the window. The stubs on the doe's head lit up, a green aura encompassing them and the curtains that shut the window and closed the blinds. A wave of emerald flame washed over her form, and Crimson stood where Cloven the doe had before. The dark room was briefly illuminated as walls of green with long shadows of stark black flashed before her eyes before all was in darkness once more.

'That was too close,' Thorax thought to herself. 'Far, far too close.' She stayed where she was for a time, just a bit longer, occasionally peeking out the window. Watching. Waiting. The organ full of holes that might charitably be called a heart pumped in her chest, anxiety and trepidation threatening to overcome her. It wouldn't. She was far too well trained to let it. But still...

She sighed and her horn lit up, illuminating the fallen crystal decanter that had smashed against the floor. She gathered it up before looking around, depositing the shards behind a cupboard. It was someling else's problem now. That had been exhausting. You see, a changeling scout's job didn't cease because she simply had additional responsibilities and a fancier job title. Oh no. She had a duty to fulfil. And circumstances being what they were, she was likely the first and only changeling to have not only made it this far into the Greenwood forest, but infiltrated a deer city and still be alive to enjoy the fact.

And that meant reconnaissance was necessary. She owed it to her Queen and to her sidhe to discover as much as she could about the deer and their society, an objective that cost her a dangerous amount of magic. First thing to do was figure out how the deer language worked. Changeling magic allowed them to imitate a lot. Certain things couldn't be altered, however, the first being their interior biology was always pretty much the same. The second was language. Spells to automatically translate spoken language, both by the spell weaver and those speaking to them, required constant concentration and a great deal of magic and did not grant learned ability by the end of it. It had required a great deal of effort on her part, but it had been worth it.

While fully learning the ins and outs of deer social mores for the benefits of the kingdom would take weeks of interaction and deception, what she learned of in a single night's work was more than enough to give her at least a partial understanding of why it had been so hard for them to infiltrate the deer to begin with. Aside from the dangers of the Greenwoods themselves, deer by and large were a warlike race. At least the tribes that dwelt within the Greenwoods were. Intertribal conflict was common, with the most common cause of conflict usually being over resources. Mines, for example, were highly prized, and territory within the Greenwoods offered scant opportunities to prospect for new ones. Most tribal wars involved simply trying to find the enemy's hidden resources and claiming them. Outside of these arcologies, these cities made from great trees. Deer settlements were scattered throughout the Greatwoods, often claiming allegiance to one tribe or another with a number of minor tribes holding out on the fringes. That meant in the conduct of their wars, deer conflicts mirrored conventional wars beyond their borders to a surprising degree, as capturing intended war goals often meant fighting and securing key locations and settlements for strategic advantages. It was an excessively deadly game of hide and seek played on a national scale.

This leant the perpetually joyful deer a natural, deep seated suspicion and caution bordering on paranoia. Trust was like gold dust, and spies were dealt with harshly. Thorax never did find out what happened to any changelings they uncovered but she could easily imagine some choice consequences. Foreigners, in general, were forbidden from entering the forest, apparently to protect the forest and fellow deer from foreign interference and conquest. That was reasonable, but to also protect the outside world from the forest... made little sense to Thorax. In any case, the Whisperwood tribe was close to the centre of the forest, bordered by a large number of other tribes, not all of whom were friendly.

So, one can imagine the alarm Brittlebark and his deer felt when three outsiders, two of which were armed, stumbled across their patrol. In the middle of the forest. Close to their city. Apparently having not been previously intercepted by any other deer warband of any of the other tribes between the forest's border and Whisperwood. Literally the only reason they were probably still alive was because Whirlwind was with them. Whirlwind's odd behaviour and his seemingly desperate attempts to control the conversation and not raise the ire of the chieftain was the only thing preventing the deers' natural xenophobic paranoia from reducing them to bloody remnants for the carrion. Well, that and the new chieftain holding a candle for their idiot of a stag, providing Thorax with just enough energy to qualify for dinner and a show. Didn't change the fact that the only reason any of them was still breathing was because of dumb luck. They were walking a razor's edge this entire time. If any of them did anything to compromise that, the good will they built would instantly evaporate. That made it all the worse when she realized that that was almost exactly what she had done.

She had to make her way all the way down to the war hall to discover all of this. A difficult process when one could not use wings without instantly becoming suspicious and probably become a pincushion for your trouble when sentries fired arrows at you. She also had the misfortune of not being a real deer nor had their magic, this 'Hartsight' she heard from time to time, so she could not summon the ficus express in the side of the Oakenheart. That had led to a delightful waste of time traversing the great walkways in a vaguely downwards direction and an even more wonderful time panicking as she made her way back and hoping to God she got the right Hishym. You see, while she had successfully infiltrated the war hall, disguised a doe mage with their distinctive white robes and making it to a library of similar deer, the imperfections of changeling disguises had another flaw which showed through: injuries.

It was a rather embarrassing situation when you were cornered by the chieftain herself in a hallway and pressed to explain exactly how you got that bruised eye. It was even more awkward when the truth of the matter was that the very same person asking was the one who gave it to you in the first place. You just happened to be wearing a different face at the time. She had smiled nervously and passed off some excuse about falling over. Forestfire hadn't bought it and continued pressing. She had then made a show of cracking under pressure and made up a story of how she was relatively new and had gotten into a disagreement with some more senior deer. Furious, the chieftain had stormed off, barking orders as she headed off into the librarium. Thorax had bolted as soon as she was out of Forestfire's sight.

She took a breath to calm herself. She had made it out. That was enough scouting for one night. She would have to pressure the human into giving her access to the pendant so she could inform the Queen. Maybe it would make up for the deal she had to cut and leaving the Queen in the dark so lo— "Hi!"

"WHHHAHAHAAAAA!" 'Crimson' yelped, pressing herself hard against the wall, foreleg raised to her chest, eyes wide, and pupils shrunk to pinpricks. She had just exited what had been a seating room of the house and the first thing she ran into was the bucking stag. His horns were glowing lightly, levitating a candle holder in a soft golden grip, a gentle smile on his muzzle.

"You're up late. Feeling better?" he asked brightly. Crimson took a few deep breaths in rapid succession as she registered the question.

"Y-Yeah!" she said breathlessly "Just... Just was wandering around, thought I might go uh... get something to... drink! Hehe!" The stag looked over her shoulder briefly.

"Well, you won't find it in there. That’s not the kitchen." Her ear flicked.

"Got lost," she said. "Couldn't find a light. I uh.... knocked something over."

"Oh, so that’s why I heard something smash..." Whirlwind said, nodding. "Anyway, kitchen's back there."

"Thanks," she said before growing suspicious and narrowing her eyes. "What are you doing down here?"

"Can't sleep!" he said happily. "Also, I heard a noise."

"Ah..."

"Oh, and Crimson was it?"

"Uh, yes?"

"You should put some ice on that." He gestured to her eye with a hoof, smiling. Crimson gave him an incredibly unamused expression.

"Thanks," she said through gritted teeth.

"You're welcome!" he said before trotting off up towards the rooms, leaving the annoyed changeling in the dark. She watched him go, holding her disdainful expression, only letting it drop as she nearly fell from her hooves, a wave of fatigue washing over her. She breathed heavily. Raising a fetlock to her forehead, she wiped off sweat. She grimaced. The ambient emotional energy she could siphon off from merely being in a settlement would be enough to just about sustain her, but it wasn't much. It was barely anything, and it was worse at night when most were asleep. The tournament was better, but something like that couldn't last forever. She had used a lot of energy tonight since changing from one form to another cost a lot more than simply maintaining one guise for an extended period. Her translation spell had cut away at her stores even more. She idly rubbed her foreleg, tempted to turn it back to her true form, just to see how bad the holes had gotten in the past few hours. She was hungry, so very hungry, but she couldn't feed here in the midst of all these deer. There were too many prying eyes. They were too wary.

Quietly making her way to her room, she considered her options. She would need to feed.

And soon.

Author's Note:

In which Handyman takes the idea of Twilight's treehouse to its logical conclusion when dealing with an entirely forest dwelling, advanced, sapient species. (Advanced meaning not primitive in comparison to their renaisence era neighbours.). Also if there was a reverse Bachdel test, this chapter fails it so hard. Not that that is a bad thing since I'd say north of 90% of established media would fail a reverse one just as much as the current one.

Also you'd think since I studied French for three years and Spanish for five at Grammar School (our college was pretty fucking heavy on the languages for the junior year students), I'd have no problem writing a character like Jacques. Nope. Hell I've actually forgotten most of the Spanish I've learned. You'd also think as both an Irishman and someone who learned Irish for three years (same curriculum) I'd be able to write Handy's little snippets in a more efficient manner so as to not break immersion by seeming clunky and cumbersome. Nope.

Also because JBL is a little bitch and asked, nay, demanded I include this little nugget of backstage storywriting shenanigans in my author's notes, I offer you this conversation. With apologies.

Handyman: *stares blankly at page*
Handyman: *sighs*
Handyman: my old foe, we meet again
JBL: solution: fuck it in the ass
Handyman: JBL I will not have sexual intercourse with my own story
Handyman: its simply not possible
JBL: have you ever TRIED?!
Handyman: How
Handyman: why
Handyman: that doesn't
Handyman: HOW COULD YOU THINK THAT IS A THING I WOULD BE WILLING TO TRY?
JBL: hehehehe
JBL: http://i.imgur.com/dbahM9q.jpg
Handyman: no
Handyman: no I did not
Handyman: I am not going to fuck my story
Handyman: I am not even attracted to stories in anyway
Handyman: also did you seriously just create that macro for this conversation?
JBL: If you fuck your story.... you can get it pregnant.... and chapters will be born from your union.... and then you won't have to write anymore!
Handyman: ...
Handyman: How does that...
Handyman: No
Handyman: No JBL
Handyman: I deny you
Handyman: and your sorcerous logic
JBL: pshhh, you're just looking down on the story, aren't you? Racist.
Handyman: Yes
Handyman: Yes I am
JBL: check your privilege
JBL: You and the patriarchy needs to die!
JBL: white cis scum
Handyman: But JBL, YOU'RE THE PATRIARCHY
JBL: Noooooooooo!
JBL: JBL used tumblrisms
JBL: They had no effect

Comments

[JBL]

If y'all spot any errors in the chapter, feel free to point them out. Fuck Handyman for writing so much and giving the readers so much to read and having them enjoy it!

[Asheram]

Ah, thank god. I needed a monday today. Thanks, Handy!

[Handyman]

5136328 Love you too, you wanker.

5136329 Not a problem.

[Handyman]

5136493 The expensive brick is Handy's phone. Which at the beginning of the story was functional in that it could turn on, but the screen was cracked and he couldn't do anything with it. Hence Handy dubbing it being little more than an 'expensive brick'.

The magic in the atmosphere affects the sensitive technology of the smartphone, keeping it charged and it plays random songs from Handy's extensive playlists at the most inopportune times. It is largely there for the comedy value, though it really shone during the Equestrian Express chapter for drama.

[Asheram]

5136505 It's quite interesting from a meta perspective it implies that even advanced technology can "Harmonize" with its surroundings... *ponders* Tampering with electronic devices as easily as neurons, now there's an interesting story to be told.

[Handyman]

5136580 An interesting theory but if anything the expensive brick's actions are anything but 'harmonious' and more 'apropos', which is not necessarily synonymous. Since often it results in Handy being less than pleased with it. Quite often, in fact, the brick's actions actively unnerve others, like the time it played haunting music in Handy's absence back in Skymount while Handy was in Canterlot.

[twad]

Good chapter.

Thou art a foolish, stupid people, inhabiting a cursed forest, and I, for one, am sick of the sight of thee. I wish to leave and never to return."

"Merci, mademoiselle. Heureux de voir que mon ami tourbillon a un bon goût chez les juments ... même si vous êtes une chienne coincé."

That made me smile.

typo: une chienne coincée

Liked the bit about their war-like nature.. and why they are. Makes sense. Too many of them for what little resources there is (or its hard to get to). Plus, they aren't "perfect"; when we learn more about their traditions and xenophobic streak.

[Asheram]

5136712 Ah, I meant not harmonize as in being harmonious with its surroundings, but instead harmonize as knowing its surroundings and therefore being able to pick and chose to play something for greatest effect.

But perhaps it's a bit far-fetched.

[Handyman]

5136727 I thought that's what you meant, but this being fimfic and the fanon surrounding the concept of harmony, I thought it would be best to clarify.

[Asheram]

5136758 Ah, my apologies then.

[Ablesoap]

5136328
"Fine... I agree to your terms. Crimson?" = Crimson blinked and looked at him in surprise.
Found an error, my liege.

[Mutalist Alad V]

5136328
Please. Please stop smoking Threshcones. It's bad enough you edit so many stories, but why do you have to be HIGH while doing so?

[Beyond the Horizon]

Ashfadkjshd. There's so much stuff going on that Handy isn't seeing. I have a feeling there's a literal entire other story in there...

Still, good chapter. The Crown's been delivered, philasophical musings with tiny horses and deer were had, and Thorax is being a sneaky-ling. And apparently Deer gratitude is different than normal gratitude.*

The only question is... Will we have to wait for another Monday?!

~With regards, The Emerald Wanderer.

*I know it isn't, but I couldn't resist.

[Handyman]

5137067

Ashfadkjshd. There's so much stuff going on that Handy isn't seeing. I have a feeling there's a literal entire other story in there...

That's because there is.

[Beyond the Horizon]

5137095

... You... You're not gonna try and write it... Right? I mean, it'd be awesome if you could, but... I get the feeling the scope would be frigging massive if it was a (written) story.

[Handyman]

5137117 I am not going to be writing the Tales of the Greenwoods, no. But this is to date the single most visible example I can give the readers of what I have been talking about; that the world of BM is huge, with many interconnecting parts, movements and where consequences for actions reverberate, with characters and stories occurring parallel and most often having nothing to do with Handy's own. This story of the crown of winter is a long one with many actors, of which Handy is merely one. The wrong man in the wrong place at the wrong time, or perhaps the right one depending on how you interpret the witch's motives at the tournament when she gave him the vortex shard.

This is my attempt at writing the trope 'Hero of another story', where Handy finds himself, in actual fact, playing second fiddle in a supporting role to Whirlwind's own story and adventures, yet still told entirely through Handy's selfish, narrow lens. Not that this arc is not relevant to Handy's own story, but it is not an example of someone else story being subservient to Handy's own but rather one were two stories happening simultaneously happen to intertwine, what you see is all that can be seen so long as we are on Handy's side of the tracks as it were. But at the end of the day, that train is going in a different direction than ours.

[Beyond the Horizon]

Mmm. I see. So Handy's a Deutragonist in the story of the Crown of Winter, then? Not necessarily the 'main man' so to speak, but still a hero in his own right. Makes me wonder exactly what kinds of other people Handy'll be running into later, then... and if some of the people he already has met aren't heroes of another (another) story.

[Handyman]

5137199 Of a sort, That's definitely what he appears to be if you take things from Whirlwind's perspective, especially in light of the next chapter. But that's not quite the right term considering he's still the main character of this story. Its an odd position and I am unaware if it has a proper definition in literary theory or if I am just being stupid, but this entire story's purpose was writing practice and what's the point of practising if you don't make mistakes, right?

[Tacitus]

You know what's sad about this story? It's one of the best HiEs I've ever read, it's been out for what? Eight months? Almost nine? And still, this is one of the most underappreciated stories on the site. I mean, come on guys, the editor's frickin' JLB. Just that should be enough for you, but no-ho-ho, it's not even passed 600 likes. WTF

[IkioStar]

Nehehehe. Tumblrisms never work.

[IkioStar]

5136328 There's some minor redundancies in the beginning, but I lost track of 'em...

[truekry]

Well, can't say anything about how you imagined the deer city. Deer = Elves, no?

[Handyman]

5138449 Essentially, yes. I was a tad surprised when I read Journey and discovered your imagining of the Deer city of Concordia was somewhat similar to what I had planned but, well, they're deer. They live in a Forest. What else was I gonna do?

[truekry]

5138460
Essentially. I don't even know how I got that picture of their city in my head. It was just like you said. Deer + Forest and there it was. And then there are pictures like this to encourage us:

th08.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/f/2012/082/b/b/arbor_city_by_vonmurder-d4tnb5u.jpg

I especially like these combinations of nature and magic:
A cave, lit by a giant crystal under the ceiling, shines upon a lake with fireflies hovering above it. A Library lit by glowing vines with blossoms, shelves carved into the walls and small build in waterfalls, so you have the soothing sound of rippling water while you read.

Maybe that's the reason I go out in the forest behind my house so often to write...

[Handyman]

5138487 It is a beautiful thing to imagine for sure, it was why I have so much fun writing descriptions over little natural effects and details. That being said this chapter was hard to write, I had been so looking forward to it but now that I read over it again, the deer city seems so flat to me, at least moreso than Lepidopolis did, or Skymount, or even Canterlot which had much less description.

Personally I don't really write much outside, hell I barely leave my room. Perhaps I should.

[HumansRuleOK]

5136505 Remind me what the brick did that time.

[Handyman]

5138558 The brick, when Handy had been defeated by Stellar Eclipse and subsequently bitten, did its comedic role by playing "I fought the law". After Handy's rapid transformation and his ingestion of Thestral blood, it played "What's left of the Flag" as Handy went on his post transformation rampage through the train. Which was its first non-ironic action in a dramatic circumstance.

[The Tyrannical]

Moi, tell me, is there a little <french word for love> in your life,

Lel

[Handyman]

5138615 ...

Sigh... fixed. Thanks for pointing that out.

[Allstar13521]

5137186 Yes but from evidence in the story I've come to believe that 'Handy' is from around that area, given he goes on about Celtic folklore and speaks in an Irish accent.

[HumansRuleOK]

5138620 That wasn't intentional? Lel I thought it was just for a bit if a giggle.

[Handyman]

5139542 Nah its a method for me to keep track of whats being said when characters are speaking in something other than English, rather than having to translate and retranslate mentally what's written down between drafts to keep it all straight. I then translate on the final run through before publishing, not sure HOW I missed that little nugget.

Other languages, such as the deer tongue and the ugly language spoken by old magic users during incantations, have no analogue I can really translate to or from.

5136723 I'm glad it made sense in the end, also I'm glad you enjoyed Jacques' very blatant impolitese.

5137426 Its really quite alright, I'm more than happy with the attention it receives already, but I am happy to hear you enjoy it so much that you think it receives more. =]

[lebowski42]

how much water this place needed.
decked out in proper steel armour that glimmered
"Have you not been taking care of these!?"

Also please cut down on the commas! Just look at his poor sentence brutally cut apart in its prime.

Apparently, when placed under house arrest, they were done so literally, locked up in a house, specifically this one windowless room.

It gives everything a really faltering pace. You even use them after the only two words "Hold on," Handy said.

( You say multiple times they are under house arrest. And yet they are not actually locked under house arrest but locked in a room. )

Apparently when placed under house arrest they instead meant that we would all be confined in this one windowless room.

Stuff like this next bit would benefit from re-writing so it reads like something someone might actually say

You'll be housed and shown courtesy and, and I must stress this, you are not to do anything to arouse suspicion that your intentions are anything other than honest.

While you will be housed and shown courtesy I must stress this next part; you are not to do anything to arouse suspicions that your intentions are anything other than honest.

Had to take a break here!

I'm still enjoying this -just- , I'm not trying to come across too negative; I liked the initial introduction to the tree city in particular. But damm if this wasn't a really long chapter that probably would have benefited from being split up a bit.

[The Tyrannical]

5138620
No problem. Happens to us all.

[lebowski42]

I just finished, the chapter , now I cant stop reading, everything as if, its being read by William Shatner, or maybe Zap Brannigann
,
,,
,,,,,

[JBL]

5139672
First off, thank you for point out those errors. I appreciate it.

Also please cut down on the commas!

Hey, in my defense, you're lucky to be seeing so little commas since I've had to repair a shitload of run-on sentences since HANDYMAN REFUSES TO LEARN!

So imagine how much there would be if Handyman had been left to run unchecked.

You even use them after the only two words. "Hold on," Handy said.

Well, '"Hold on," Handy said.' is a technically correct sentence. Of course, I've been trying to reduce all the 'said' tags so that the readers won't have to face a constant barrage of 'he said, she said' but I leave back .

While you will be housed and shown courtesy I must stress this next part; you are not to do anything to arouse suspicions that your intentions are anything other than honest.

Well see now, that sentence would require a comma after courtesy since the introductory clause is rather lengthy. While some sentences do, indeed, have a lot of commas, rest assured that I am not, in fact, throwing them about willy-nilly.

[lebowski42]

5140197

I'll concede that one comma but i'm not exaggerating with the over zealous punctuation ; unless everyone is meant to be stammering .

"No. Really. It was basically Bambi. Swear to God. Well, okay, that's not entirely accurate. "
No really it was basically Bambi. Swear to God! Well okay , that's not entirely accurate.

I'm of the opinion that everything a a character speaks in quotation marks should be a grammatically correct sentence , since they aren't saying the stuff outside it. In that example handy isn't pausing at all in the middle of a sentence. He's finished his sentence.

"Hold on." Handy said.

Also "First off, thank you for pointing out those errors. I appreciate it."

[Handyman]

5140250 But no one is speaking that sentence. Despite how the narration is written, the narrator is not a character and 'Handy' is not the one speaking it even if there was a narrator character. It is merely how the narration is written in this story; speaking towards the reader.

[JBL]

5140250

"Hold on." Handy said.

Nope, that would be wrong. If you use a period instead of a comma there, you'd be making that into two different sentences, and 'Handy said.' cannot stand as a sentence by itself.

I think what you're concerning yourself with is the flow, not whether or not the punctuation is correct or not.

[lebowski42]

5140288
I don't understand. Handy is speaking it said so right there

Handy said.

5140299
yeah , i was wrong. I Stand by that other junk I said about too many commas though

[Handyman]

5140326 I meant no one is speaking this sentence:

No. Really. It was basically Bambi. Swear to God. Well, okay, that's not entirely accurate. It was Bambi if Bambi was a doe and didn't lose her spots as she grew into adulthood. But still, Bambi.

Normal grammatical rules for speech do not apply here. As for the other sentence you cited, JBL pretty much handled that.

I do apologise for the run on sentences which have been a persistent bad habit of mine that JBL has since been trying to beat out of me with a stick. I used to be so much worse.

[lebowski42]

5140335

Oh yeah I take your point about normal rules for speech. But my complaint is I find it difficult to read because there is so much unneeded punctuation, even if no one is speaking that sentence it's so awkward ( to my eyes ) ; I start to read it as if someone is speaking it out loud and the constant stop - starting of the structure causes me to fall right out of the scene.

[Handyman]

5140361 Fair enough. I'll try to be more considerate in future, but I was merely following the same flow and brand of humour that has been present throughout the story thus far. The narration was not meant to be taken as if a person was literally speaking, otherwise I'd have either introduce an actual narrator or simply make this a first person perspective and have Handy narrate his own story, but i couldn't maintain the same style that way.

[Lupus]

I'm gonna be so bummed when you move on from the deer. By far one of my favorite parts of the story.

Now that it is in his head, it'll slowly eat away at his resistance until he finally gives in to the xenophillia. That will be a glorious day indeed.

Wonder what effect deer blood will have on Handy. Maybe cheer him up a smidgen?

[Handyman]

5143206 Deer blood would have interesting effects on him to say the least, which is all I'll say on the matter.

I am glad to hear you enjoy the deer arc, so far its the one arc I have had the most doubts about and the hardest one to write next to the tournament arc.

[Jerky]

I know the feeling Handy, when even the slightest question just pisses you off for unknown reason. We all know the feeling.
Also, god damnit Thorax. It's like I'm watching the first two seasons of breaking bad again, she's worse than Jesse.

[Handyman]

5145276 Thanks for pointing that out, I'll have it edited soon enough.

5145249 Now, now, Jesse is much more incompetent. And Handy may be on the drugs, but Walter White he is not.

5145289 Hatred. Clearly.

[D48]

I just had an amusing thought. It might be interesting to have something develop between Jacques and Thorax. There is no way her identity is going to stay secret given that the real Crimson is on the way and Handy already knows, and Jacques did say he was open to exploring other species...

[Flint]

5148100 like i said i haven't read the story for a while i forgot a few things about it

[Jerky]

5146851 Eh, this story and Breaking Bad often make me cringe at what stupid actions the characters do. However, Walter White might have as well been on drugs during his entire run. He was on a high fueled by his ego, now I'm going to stop myself before I start ranting.
Anyhow, the thing about Thorax - is well, to be honest, she's a bit of an ass. Sometimes I forget she exists even when I read the new chapters. No offense to you of course, people of every character differently, but she's like Walter Junior or Zoidberg. I don't really care for her - actually, at this point I don't like any of the characters. Except Handy, Handy got this shit in a bag.
Just keep in mind - there's a Marie in every story eventually.