Kill The Lights

by MemoryLane

Chapter Six

Swallow cocked her head at the mentioning of her name. What could she possibly be useful for at a time like this?

Ever since the death of Buttermilk, Swallow had been holding back an almost primal urge to break down. A strange, innermost lust for some kind of relief through crying and throwing a childish tantrum. She knew what would happen if she began to cry, Sketch was a good enough example. If crying and sleepiness were not linked in any way, she would have cried so much that she could have filled a bathtub. However, her fear held her back, made her stronger in a sense. Swallow didn’t understand it herself.

But Buttermilk--Buttermilk was dead. She couldn’t believe that she could say a pony’s name, a pony that she knew, and “is dead” in the same sentence. She didn’t know how to feel except a little depressed. The game was real, now. There was no denying that. She could have done something to help. She could have ran to Buttermilk’s aid, with Sketch. She could have asked the stallion before if he was doing alright, when he left Swallow and Miso’s session in a hurry. Now that Swallow thought about it, he had probably went to grab his medication or something.

They were down to six. Not even seven hours ago, there were seven confused ponies standing in front of each other, wondering and somewhat scared. Now there was six. Swallow barely even knew a thing about Buttermilk. Where was he from? What did he do for a living? Did he have a family? Sketch was probably the only pony who knew, but it would have been downright cruel to ask him.

The game was underway. Swallow could only wonder if she could win the game. Probably not. As morbid as the thought was, Swallow wasn’t sure if she would survive. She was a quiet, introverted mare. She was small, and weakly built. Back when she was traveling, she would sometimes begin to yawn simply when she heard crickets chirp. Her only advantage was her determination, but that could only get her so far when her mind started to blank out on her, and she almost inevitably falls asleep.

She could only hope and pray, things she hadn’t done in a very long time. She had to try her best. For her family. For her friends. For herself. She had to do this for herself. She kept repeating that over and over in her head until the words became nonsense.

Back in reality, everypony was staring at her. Weirdly enough, Miso had begun to associate certain names with the faces. She still couldn’t understand anything, but whenever a name was spoken, she’d turn to the pony with that name with an almost quizzical look. “Me? Huh?” Swallow almost stuttered.

“Yes. It’s about-” Alloy threw his head in the direction of Sketch, who had turned back to the floor just in time to not catch on. Whether or not he was even in the real world, she didn’t know. He seemed so out of it, it was almost eerie. Swallow felt her heart drop. She had a bad feeling about this. Without another peep from her, Swallow obeyed, and she stood up.

“Hey!” Tenor intervened. “At least let us in on this. For all we know you could be going out there to plot against us or something!” Gallant bit the inside of his mouth, as if he were trying to keep himself from saying something. Alloy frowned, loudly.

“We’re not. I’ll fill you in later. C’mon, Swallow.” With an aggravated grunt from Tenor, Swallow and Alloy exited the room. He practically slammed the door behind him. Almost immediately, she could hear the group inside beginning to talk again.

Before Swallow could even muster up the ability to ask, Alloy answered. “You’re a key, in all of this. What happened with Sketch.”

Swallow took a defensive step backwards. “E-Excuse me? Are you saying that… Buttermilk…?”

“No. I’m sorry, I phrased it badly.” Alloy scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly. “Look, when Miso didn’t understand that her life was on the line, you took care of her and helped her. When Sketch was throwing a fit, and crying his eyes out, you were the first pony by his side to help him--calm him down. You talked to him, and you helped him stop sobbing. In a sense, you just saved his life.”

“Sketch isn’t talking. He’s reverting into something I don’t know the name of. But he’s not acknowledging the world around him. He’s lost in his head. He’s traumatized. Out of all the ponies, you’re the pony that he needs to turn to.”

Swallow was dumbfounded. True, she helped Miso and Sketch, but Alloy was talking to Swallow as if she was some kind of hero. She most certainly wasn’t. Swallow’s immediate sense of urgency towards the feelings and safety of others was purely hers. She had always been like that. Did she care about others more than herself at times? She didn’t know how to answer that without being modest. Actually, a few of her friends that she had met on her travels had said that Swallow could make a great nurse, or therapist, or even a mother. Too bad that Swallow just didn’t like to talk, and use her ability. Her cutie mark depicted a map. Her fate was settled.

“So… what are you saying…?” Her voice was small, like a mouse. Wide green eyes looked at Alloy, who was just barely taller than her. In fact, Alloy was the third shortest pony in the game. The smallest pony being Sketch himself. Alloy sighed a bit, and locked eyes with her. He appeared to be having trouble maintaining, though.

“We need you to talk to him.” Swallow’s breath threatened to stick in her throat. Alloy must have noticed this, so he continued talking. “You’re the only pony who might be able to snap him out of it. He risks dying if he doesn’t become more aware. I mean… look at the rest of us. Do you really think Tenor, or Gallant would be able to calm him down? Miso can’t speak english. I’m not a very good talker. We’ll make things worse. But you, you have that motherly quality that might be able to help him out. Just kind of have a session with him, talk to him, make him feel a little better. You know?”

Swallow was incredibly leery. The thought of sitting in a room with a male, alone, made her blush. Sure, she was with somepony who was just barely an adult--especially a male that she didn’t even know all that well--but the thought still unnerved her. “I-I don’t know about this…”

“Swallow, please. If Sketch doesn’t get help, it’ll only get worse for him. We need you to cheer him up. I’ll owe you big time!” Swallow didn’t pay much attention to his “reward” for if she did what he asked. In the end, it would only be useless. But… she couldn’t say no. She was just too kind to say no.

“I...erm…” she stammered. Alloy gazed at her with hopeful, pleading eyes. “I guess…”

Alloy’s mouth quickly contorted into a pleasured smile, one that could warm the heart of anypony. Maybe even Tenor, Swallow imagined. “Thank you so much,” said Alloy. “You’re doing Sketch a great favor. You’re helping him live.”

Swallow wasn’t too sure about that. “I… I can’t promise anything…” she said, quietly. Alloy didn’t seem to recognize what she had said. He had already opened the door back into the room. Swallow felt herself redden once again, when eyes were all on her. Why couldn’t she control her cheeks? It gave away too many important emotions.

“You done?” Gallant asked. For some reason, he was no longer standing near the door. Instead, he was standing next to Tenor, who was still sitting rudely on top of the dresser. Alloy nodded. Swallow gulped. Alloy said he’d fill the rest of them in later, but she was so tempted to blurt out the plan for Sketch to everypony right then and there. She was terrible at keeping secrets.

“Good,” was Gallant’s only reply. His eyes landed upon Swallow’s. His dark brown eyes peered into her very soul, like he was holding back some kind of inner hatred towards her conversation with Alloy just a moment ago. Swallow was started to feel sick. Then again, it could just be her hunger.

“So, now what?” Tenor said, with a shrug. Upon seeing Tenor do this motion, Miso mimicked her--shrugging absentmindedly. Nopony really noticed as much as Swallow did. “We just sit here and wait for something to happen? We’re not really gonna just sit in the room and watch one another, right?”

If Sketch was in the mood, Swallow assumed that he would have said something like, “As pretty as all of you are…” or something weird like that. Instead, Sketch just sat there on the bed. His eyes looked dead inside.

Instead, Gallant opened his mouth again. “What we should do is figure out why the Hell we’re here in the first place.” His facial expression was nothing less than emotionless. He looked purely undisturbed. Swallow didn’t like how he was looking at the moment.

“Gallant…” Tenor spoke as if Gallant had just made the asked the world’s dumbest question. “E already said he’d been watching us for what? How many years?”

“Nine,” Swallow answered. Tenor didn’t seem to care.

“Obviously, dude’s some kind of pervy stalker stallion. Not like we know who he is,” Tenor finished.

“I don’t think so,” said Gallant. He shook his head, as if it was Tenor who was making the dumb comments the entire time. “A guy that stalks us for nine years, each of us, has some kind of personal interest of some kind. It’s not random. I really doubt he just looked up seven names in the phonebook and decided that he was going to stalk them and throw them into a demented game.”

“Well, then what kind of personal interest?” Alloy piped. Swallow didn’t wish to get involved in the conversation for multiple reasons. “As far as I can tell, none of us have a thing in common.”

“True,” Gallant admitted. “But maybe it’s because we haven’t dug deep enough. Though, maybe not. Maybe we’re all just so damn interesting.” A small, tired grin graced his lips.

“Yep. That’s it,” Tenor added.

“You’re missing the point. There has to be some reason why we were chosen for this game over others. There has to be one factor that defines us seven. One solid reason for why us.” Alloy adjusted his glasses. Considering how much they tended to fall down, or need to be corrected, Swallow thought that maybe Alloy should’ve gotten better fitted glasses. Alas, it’s too late now. There was no chance for that.

“There must be, Alloy,” Gallant replied. “But I just don’t see one yet.”

“Let’s just… just think!” For some reason, Alloy was becoming a little more panicked than what seemed necessary. Surely, he was undergoing stress like the rest of them. Perhaps what he didn’t understand or know was what was stressing him out more so than anything else. “What… what about…”

Swallow knew that Alloy was not going to come up with a genuine answer, that he was simply going to make something up on the spot. Luckily for them all, the strange speakers revived themselves, cutting his unsuccessful collaborative thinking session short.

“Hello, my ponies!” E’s voice blared over the speakers like a sportscaster. Swallow would have covered her ears had she not been afraid of missing what he was going to say. He was speaking, surely this was important. After all, he had been watching them since the game began six or so hours ago. Tenor began grinding her teeth, angrily. “Six hours, thirty-nine minutes, fifty-one seconds into the game! How is everypony doing so far?”

Nopony said anything. Complete silence on both ends of the conversation.

“That’s the spirit!” he replied, as if the group had been cheering. “I see we are missing a pony. Poor Buttermilk. Oh well! At least it was him, and not you. Am I right? Perk up! You hear me, Sketch?”

Sketch, who apparently had been listening, jumped at the sound of his name. A look of worry spread across his face. His face was sunken enough. He looked like he was slowly becoming a zombie, his depression changing him externally. “Good! I see you’re not completely out of it. Keep it that way. It’s no fun when everypony’s all sad all the time.” Most of the ponies in the room were fuming. Swallow was indifferent to everything, accepting everything that was being tossed her way.

“Since Buttermilk placed last in the competition, as had just recently passed on, I’ve decided to do something interesting for lunch. In case you may not have known, Buttermilk was a very accomplished chef from Las Pegasus.” Swallow did not know this previous. Sketch may have, but he was beginning to zone out again. “A cooking protege since birth, if I may add. He had so much potential, so much he had done. He’d placed in many cooking competitions and even appeared on one of those competition shows. Although, he placed last in that too…” There was a small pause. “Well, lunch is prepared in the room down the hall. I’ll check in with the rest of you all later. Keep things interesting for me!”

And then the microphone clicked.

---

Even with the death of Buttermilk, Gallant was unfazed and unconcerned.

The death was unprecedented and worrisome, that much Gallant could admit, but he wouldn’t. Gallant wasn’t the type of stallion to worry. In fact, he was totally calm about everything. He knew, deep inside, that he would end up winning the game. The deaths of everypony else was imminent. His, however, was not.

After all, Gallant was a soldier. He was a war veteran with the charisma of a thousand suns, with skill and knowledge to boot. When he was just a trainee, he would spend nights awake per orders from a higher general. He would spend nights alone in the woods on the daily for simulations. He did a lot of things that toughened him to the core. This simple game was practically nothing to him. He went to war, for crying out loud. He was like a nail.

Buttermilk didn’t upset him as much it should have. The stallion knew that he was going to die, but yet and still, he didn’t say anything. He did bare minimum to inform the rest of the group about his possibly fatal condition. Gallant knew that Buttermilk’s death was upsetting, but he just didn’t feel sympathy towards stupidity. In the end, he was indifferent.

When the microphone clicked off, there was nothing but silence. Sketch was a little more aware, now that E had talked about him through the microphone. This confirmed two things for Gallant. One, was that the messages were not pre-recorded. Two, was that they were indeed being watched somehow.

“I’m not too hungry,” Gallant replied. It was true. The stallion was older than most, especially the others that were competing with him in the game. His stomach was genuinely small. That grape fruit and orange juice was just enough for him. Besides, he’d ran off much less before. Tenor was already up and off her comfy spot on the dresser.

“Welp, too bad. We gotta go check it out anyways,” she said. In not even five seconds, she was out the door. Gallant only huffed at her. He was very much getting sick of her attitude. Then again, she was a punk. She probably grew up in a house full of irresponsible parents who didn’t give a damn about what trouble their child got into. Tenor was a mystery in herself. Gallant wanted to learn more, but the thought of that actually happening made him sick.

“She’s got a point.” Gallant, with a heaving sigh, made his way for the door. Miso followed, but Gallant had been ignoring the mare for a while now. The foreign mare served him no purpose, so there was no reason to acknowledge her existence entirely. Miso trotted out the door, while Gallant slogged. The Flight Captain waited at the door, while Miso went ahead.

Swallow turned to exit, but Alloy stopped her. Surely, the mare was excruciatingly hungry. She had one Hell of an appetite. Gallant knew what Alloy was doing, so he didn’t intervene. “Swallow, remember what we talked about?” he said, sneaking a small glance at Sketch. The kid was still sitting on his bed, staring into space. His eyes were still reddened, and his mouth was turned downwards.

Swallow stopped. “N-Now? But… but lunch! Can it wait for a second? Please? I’m so hungry…” She seemed very distressed and desperate, but Gallant didn’t realize. It was simply not in him to be able to discern her emotions. Alloy heartbreakingly shook his head.

“We’ll save you some. I promise. For now, please talk to him. He needs you.” Alloy turned tail, and almost bumped into Gallant. Alloy looked up at the older stallion, a look of worry on his face. Was Alloy nervous? The latter couldn’t tell. Gallant, taking the opportunity, turned to Swallow and smirked.

“We’ll be right back, Swallow,” he said. “Do this for Sketch. For us.” Before Swallow could even exhale her breath, Gallant slammed the door shut.

---

The walk to the aforementioned Pillared Room was agonizing, even for Gallant. Not knowing what to expect was one thing. Knowing what you expect, and discerning the outcome as how you viewed it in your mind, that was disturbing to him. Though, it was nothing to get upset about. He had been through worse. Much worse.

Miso, Alloy, Tenor, and Gallant made their way. Everypony’s thought were as different as the pony next to them. Nothing made sense, but their brains still whispered sweet nothings in their direction that temporarily calmed their minds. They strode in silence. The stranger at their side did nothing to illuminate their way.

These three were something that made Gallant think. Miso, in herself, was a wonder. Why was she even chosen for this game? The mare didn’t speak their language, nor appear to even be from the nation of Equestria. Gallant wasn’t familiar with Neighpon. However, it was a major question how E would know a mare like her. From his view, Miso wasn’t the type of pony to do anything wrong.

Tenor. Whatever Tenor said or did to E must have pissed him off real good. It was no wonder why she was there. If Gallant, hypothetically, had been in charge of this game, Tenor would be one of the first ponies he’d sign up. Her attitude was a key factor in why she was disliked. Gallant personally hoped she’d just pass out soon, and shut up for good.

Then there was Alloy. Alloy was a smart kid, but dumb as well. His natural knowledge of the world around him, as well as common sense was just impeccable. But the kid showed no sense of restraint. He was too curious for his own good. It was probably how he got so smart, from snooping and whatnot. The more Gallant hung around Alloy, the more he wanted to push him away. But he knew he could. Alloy was his ticket out of there, to win the game. He’d keep him around, for help.

Even though the game was well underway, Gallant wasn’t too sure.

“Almost there,” said the pony at the front of the line--Tenor. Gallant had only assumed so. He’d walked up and down this corridor about four times already.

Though, when he reached the “Pillared Room”, he felt like his mind was about to burst.

The room was shifted. It was massive. A hundred feet by twenty feet. The walls were a freshly painted white, shining brightly. They threatened to blind Gallant, in fact. The amount of light in the room was staggering, and off putting. There was a gigantic table in the middle of the room. Skinny and elongated so much that Gallant was almost positive that it belonged in the Royal Castle. Royalty looked like they would have eaten off the table in a heartbeat. There were six chairs all around, spread about. Though, they were extremely far apart from each other.

There was writing on the far back of the room. “In remembrance of Buttermilk, a feast.” The hoofwriting was barely legible, leading Gallant to believe that it was written by hoof, by E.

There was one more thing about the room. One more thing that confused him, and threw all of his previous thoughts and ideas out the window. There was food. There was lots of it. The table was absolutely covered in various gourmet dishes. From spaghetti, to mashed potatoes, to baby carrots and any other food that you could imagine, it was there--sitting on that table. There was steam coming off each prepared dish, letting Gallant know that it was just freshly made.

“No way…” Tenor exclaimed, her mouth open in surprise. “So… so much food!”

“This is a problem,” Alloy exclaimed. “A really big problem.” Unfortunately, his voice was drowned out by the loud knocking that lead to the inside of Gallant’s brain. Insanity answered.

---

“Sketch?” Swallow said, kindly. Back in Sketch’s room, Swallow was keeping true to her word. She was going to talk to Sketch, and she was going to try and make him feel a little better.

Unfortunately, Swallow had no idea how to do it. Usually, she would have some sort of idea, and in most situations, it was just common sense to her. Caring for Sketch when he was sobbing on the floor? That was instinct. Offering to help Miso understand the game so she wouldn’t make a mistake and perish? She just couldn’t say no. “No” was just not in her vocabulary, and she had been pondering over the years if that was a good or a bad thing. So far, it had been her curse.

Swallow’s stomach was growling. She really wished she could have eaten lunch first. Though, in the back of her mind, she knew that she couldn’t do that. It was a horrid idea to leave a traumatized child alone, especially in a game where taking a simple nap could kill you. No, not could--will. Sketch’s brain wasn’t in the right place and he needed help immediately, before something worse happened. If something happened to Sketch, Swallow would feel personally responsible.

And then she would know just what it felt like to be in Sketch’s position.

Swallow’s mouth was terribly dry, but she wasn’t sure why. She hadn’t stopped blushing ever since Alloy and Gallant and the rest of the group had walked out of the room. Swallow wasn’t afraid of boys. Not exactly. She was just shy and nervous. Though, she wasn’t trying to impress Sketch. She didn’t like Sketch that way. But even still, the possibility of something like that, like something in the movies sparking off made her leery. As her cheeks were flaring, so was her determination.

“Sketch? Can you hear me?” Swallow said, her voice fraught with sympathy. No response. Sketch was sitting on his rump on the bed, staring down at the sheets underneath him. Swallow faltered, thinking carefully before she spoke. “Please, say something. It’s okay, you can talk to me.”

Sketch made no signal, no sign of acknowledgement. The death of his friend had traumatized poor Sketch something fierce. Swallow tried a different approach. “Buttermilk was a good stallion, it seemed. I didn’t know very much about him. Could you tell me about him?”

No response.

“Okay…” Swallow gulped. “Can you tell me about yourself, then? Where are you from?” Sketch’s ears twitched, but only slightly. In fact, Swallow had almost missed it. Perhaps she had said something that tipped him off? Given him a sense of familiarity? She had no clue. But, she did learn that Sketch was indeed listening? Was he even really traumatized, or was he just tuning out the world?

“Sketch? Could you tell me where you’re from? Do you have any brothers and sisters back home?” Swallow had only gotten her hopes up. Sketch--unsurprisingly--remained motionless. Swallow needed to do something, something drove her. It wanted her to help the kid get back on his hooves, help him get over the death of a stallion who wasn’t even his friend.

Swallow felt compelled to keep talking--for once--to keep her mouth busy, and Sketch’s ears. “I’m from Stableside. It’s this really small town near Baltimare. When I was younger, I used to live with my mom, my dad, and my little brother.” No reply, yet again. Sketch continued to stare at the sheets underneath him with dead eyes. “I moved out though. I didn’t have anywhere to go though. I kind of left on a whim. I had just my backpack, and some money, and that was it.” Swallow found herself grinning. “It was really stupid, really. Anyways, I travel for a living. I stay in different places, meet new ponies, that kind of thing. What do you do? I noticed that you liked to draw, did you want to become an artist for a living?”

The small dots that were Sketch’s eyes moved. They turned to give Swallow a small glance her way, before they went back to their original position. Was… was Swallow actually doing it? Was she getting through to him? She had to force herself to keep going. “You know, I met somepony like you once--when I was traveling. His name was Quill. Lived in the woods near Vanhoover. He was a little bit older than you, actually. He was really kind, and sweet. He was an artist, and painted so many beautiful drawings that I couldn’t even begin to describe.”

Sketch was definitely listening.

“He showed me all his paintings, and he let me spend the night in his art gallery.” Swallow adjusted how she was sitting, and lied on her belly on the bed only six inches away from Sketch. Her blush was growing, steadily. “--Gave me a place to stay. You know, everytime I think of one of those drawings, I think of him. And I see a lot of him in you.”

Sketch actually looked up, and to Swallow’s surprise, spoke. “Y-You do…?”

Swallow gave the young stallion the most genuine grin she could manage. She was telling the truth anyways, so it wasn’t that hard. “Of course, Sketch. He was a massive joker, as well. Loved to tell jokes and make others laugh. That’s kind of why we got along so well… He craved acceptance though his work, through his personality, but never really got it. So, his drawings would depict that. He had his own style that defined him, some kind of tick that made Quill’s drawing’s… well, Quill’s.”

Sketch only stared at Swallow. Swallow was starting to feel uncomfortable. His unblinking eyes were starting to creep her out a little bit, but of course she didn’t say that out loud. “So… can you tell me where you’re from? About you?”

Sketch looked reluctant, like he was debating whether or not he should open his mouth. But after a few decisive moments, he let the words flow. “I’m from Canterlot. I… I live in the outskirts, where all those little houses are… you know? On the corner of Brooks and Meadow Street.” Swallow had to keep from wincing when she remembered the area that he was talking about. When she was traveling about Canterlot a few months ago, she had received a tip to stay as far away from that area as possible. It was a bad neighborhood. Run-down houses, graffiti, crime--they were all there. Swallow didn’t mention it. She only nodded. It was hard to believe that a kid like Sketch came from a ghetto.

“I live with my mother and my father, and two brothers,” he said. “Their names are Skips and Skits. They’re very young though, babies practically. I go to Starswirl High School.” Sketch paused. “Home of the Magicians.”

There was a lull in the conversation. Swallow felt pressured. She couldn’t let the conversation die. “How long have you been drawing for?” she asked. She couldn’t tell if this was even a session anymore. Perhaps she just wanted to get to know Sketch a little bit more.

“Since I was a little kid,” said Sketch. “I love to draw… love to paint. I love colors. It makes others happy.” He moved his head, so that his ear was facing her. “You see my earring?” he asked. Swallow observed the small, almost feminine looking, earring. Strangely enough, Swallow hadn’t noticed it before now. “When I was a young foal, I was dared by a kid who I thought was my friend to get it.” Swallow could sense that Sketch was holding back a small snicker. Though, the hint of depression still wavered in his voice. “He said he’d be my friend if I got my ear pierced. Stupid me believed him. When I showed up at school with my earring the next day, he along with the rest of my class laughed at me. They said I looked like a filly.”

“So why do you still wear it?” Swallow couldn’t help but ask.

“I refuse to be defined by ponies who aren’t even my friends. Besides, I was very upset after that. I went home. I took out a piece of paper and a pencil, and I just… drew. I can’t remember exactly what I was aiming for, but in the end, I made a pretty good drawing of the ocean, with a small sailboat.” He paused, one more time. “It’s how I got my cutie mark.”

Swallow looked at Sketch’s rump. His cutie mark was nothing more than a pencil, tracing a squiggly line on a small scratch piece of paper. When Swallow didn’t say anything, Sketch did. “D-Do you want to see one of my drawings? Tell me what you think of it?”

Swallow was a little confused at first, but that was until he saw the silent gleam of hope inside Sketch’s eyes. She couldn’t resist. “Sure, Sketch. I’d love to.” With this, Sketch hopped off his bed. While his movements were slowed and sluggish, he showed a childish ambition that Swallow herself wish she had. Sketch walked over to the dresser, the same one that Tenor had sat on earlier, and opened it. He pulled out a small sketchbook. It was worn and creased in various places from extended use.

He moseyed back to the bed, and sat back in his usual place. He spread the book out and leaned over, causing Swallow to grow slightly uncomfortable. Too close. However, she was going to have to deal with it. She wished she could just lose her blush already. Her cheeks were on fire.

He opened to a seemingly random page, the last drawing in his book. His best one. Swallow could only stare when Sketch removed his hooves from the book, and allowed Swallow to get a good look.

Her jaw absolutely dropped.

The drawing was seemed to be that of another planet. The view from it was amazing. If somepony was taking a snapshot, they’d be overlooking a scenic cliff, and a dark, rocky land sparse of anything save for dust and the occasional mystic plant. There was a gigantic moon, peering over yonder and gazing upon Swallow like a rabbit coming out of a hole. It took up most of the page. Sketch’s sketch actually painted a picture inside of her head, of a different planet, and looking upon something so beautiful, so there, that she looked like she could have reached up and touched it. It absolutely blew her mind.

“I… wow…” Swallow was unable to comprehend. Sketch was only seventeen years old, but the drawing looked like it was done by a professional. “This is gorgeous. You did this?” Swallow was no longer trying to suck up to Sketch in an effort to cheer him up. She was simply dumbfounded.

Sketch nodded. “Y-Yes…” Swallow turned to him, her eyes large with wonder.

“This is amazing… There’s no way. How are you not world-famous?”

Sketch’s facial features livened up. “R-Really? You think so?” Swallow’s heart was warmed at the sight of the kid. Something had risen up inside of him, some kind of promise. It was just as if he realized that he had suddenly had a reason to keep going--not to give up yet.

“Of course! Can I see some more?” Swallow said, excitedly. “I’d really love to see some more.”

“I...uhm, okay. Are you sure…?” Why Sketch was so hesitant to share his passion with Swallow, the mare was unable to understand. Maybe it was because so many potential friends had fooled him somehow, and that he wasn’t sure that Swallow was being as serious as he had hoped. Maybe it was because he hadn’t really expected to show them to anypony, and had given up. Maybe, he was just shy.

“Yes,” Swallow smiled. “They’re great!”

Sketch looked back at his notepad, the one with the picture of the distant planet. “Uhm, thank you, Swallow.”

“Don’t thank me,” Swallow said, warmly. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

There was a small pregnant pause between the two of them, where they simply stared at each other. Swallow wasn’t sure was to think about it. But then, something amazing happened.

Sketch smiled.

Author's Note:

Feedback and thoughts are greatly appreciated.

Stay tuned for more.

-Cyneryk

Comments

[SuperPinkBrony12]

Well, at least Sketch is opening up again.

[Sketch-Pad]

Oh my gosh the end of the chapter was actually very cute
I had a grin on my face as soon as she started talking about her past. . . It was so adorable lol
Very good chapter! I am looking forwards to the next eagerly!!

[Reality-Related]

Sketch and Swallow should both make it out!