March-makers

by ObabScribbler

Day 15: Princess Luna/Gilda (sadfic/drama/uplifting/romance)

Title: Moonbeams and Gold Feathers

Pairing: Gilda/Princess Luna

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“Gilda! Order at Table Seven!”

“I know, I know, keep your tail on.”

“And try not to smash their beaks in in this time.”

“I make no promises!”

Gilda shouldered her way through the swinging doors into the tavern proper. The warm clattering of the kitchen gave way to the yells and song of the evening crowd. Without missing a beat, she walked through them, keeping her platter high so as not to let anyone knock it from her claws. Luckily all the patrons kept their seats and places at the bar tonight, so she arrived at Table Seven without incident.

Sort of.

“Aw crap, not you again!”

“Nice to see you too, Gilda,” said the strong buck lounging back in his chair. “Liking the apron, honey.”

“Call me honey again and I’ll feed you your paws, Galtron,” she growled. “And they won’t be attached to the rest of you.”

The buck whooped to his four friends, who crowded around the circular table like she was some dinnertime show.

Galtron shook his head indulgently. “Gilda, Gilda, Gilda, we both know you won’t do that.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “And how do we know that?”

“Because,” he said, leaning further back and spreading his hind legs a little further apart. “We both know you want me.”

The urge to bring the whole metal platter down on his head was so strong that her claws twitched in anticipation. However, she stayed the impulse. She needed this job. It was crummy and aggravating but it paid better than her last two, didn’t involve muffins at all, and had allowed her to actually accrue some savings for the first time in her life. Her! Actual savings! All that would end, however, if she brained every lecherous customer who walked through the door. Not to mention half the population of Griffinstone would have skull damage before the week was out.

She gave out the plates of food, ignoring the way the five bucks eyed her rump as she walked away. She needed this job. Like, really needed it. Apart from anything else, it kept her mind occupied and stopped her thinking about … well, everything. The stupid rent on her stupid house, which she only owned because stupid Griffinstone had stopped being a cesspool long enough to make her stay. She had stayed for other reasons too, but she wanted to think of those even less.

I need this job.

The mantra kept her steps steady and head straight ahead.

I need this job. I need this job. I need this –

“An impressive show of self-control,” said a voice to her right. “I fear I would have used that platter as a weapon upon them.”

Gilda paused; not because someone had apparently read her mind, but because the speaker was not a griffin. The New Moon got non-griffin customers now and then, especially since trade routes around the kingdom had reopened, but it was rare to find them in The New Moon. The tavern was in a tough area, which was why it paid so good. While she might see a yak or minotaur testing their mettle here, ponies were infrequent. Especially slightly built pegasi with wispy blue manes and delicate spindly limbs.

Gilda stared at the pony, wondering how the heck she hadn’t died in the cold already. The mare looked like she might fall out of the sky if a breeze blew the wrong way. How had she even made it this far into the mountains? True, it was Midsummer and the terrain wasn’t as tough as late Autumn or Winter, but even so, nobeast made the journey to Griffinstone lightly.

The pony sipped her mug of ale delicately, at odds with the rampant swigging of other patrons sharing the bar with her. She never took her big blue eyes off Gilda.

Realising the pony expected a response, Gilda called on her old staple response: the shrug. “Galtron’s an idiot and his friends don’t even rate that high.”

The pony nodded. “May I be permitted to order that which they currently consume?”

Gilda blinked. It took her a moment to translate the question. “You want what they ordered?”

“Indeed.”

“Do you even know what Rat Tail Soup is?”

“I would hazard that it is a soup composed of the tails of vermin?”

“Plus some root vegetables, but yeah.”

“Then I would like to order a bowl of Rat Tail Soup, holding the rat tail.”

Gilda stared at her, waiting for the chuckle that would signify this was a joke. When it didn’t come, she had to conclude the pony was serious.

“Whatever.” At the last moment, her boss’s voice chimed in her head. “Uh, I mean, yes ma’am.”

The pony nodded. “You are most kind.”

Gilda plucked her order pad from her belt and jotted it down. “Name and table?”

“May I not consume my food here?”

“Bar’s for drinking. Tables are for eating.”

“Oh.” The pony surveyed the room for an empty seat. “Table Four. My mane is Moonbeam Darknight.”

Gilda’s pencil froze. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What would my jest be?”

“Moonbeam? In the New Moon?”

The pony continued to stare at her, face slightly scrunched. “Indeed, it was the name of this establishment that drew me to it. It seemed fitting for my first visit to Griffinstone.”

Ugh. Ponies. Gilda only just stopped herself rolling her eyes. “Okay then. Food’ll be about fifteen minutes, give or take.”

“My thanks.”

Gilda turned away and banged through the doors into the kitchen. “Whatever,” she said once she was out of earshot.

Thirty-five minutes later, when the tavern had filled up considerably and Gilda was rushed off her feet, she noticed the pony sitting demurely at the corner table, nursing the dregs of what appeared to be her first and only mug of ale.

Crap!

Gilda ducked into the kitchen. “Gavin! Did you do that special order for Table Four?”

The grizzled chef pointed at a sealed wooden bowl on the warming plate. Where long pink tails usually draped down the sides, this one was bare.

“Thanks!”

She grabbed it and headed back out to make excuses about lazy cooks and hope the pony didn’t get pissy. Such was her hurry that she didn’t see the griffin standing right outside the swinging doors.

“Oof!”

Gilda fell backwards, tail bending painfully under her. The other griffin staggered back. Gilda got a glimpse of green and white feathers and a trailing red scarf. Her heart juddered. The bowl of soup took flight. Instinctively, she tried to grab for it. She wasn’t even off the floor before it hit the side of a table. The lid came off and the entire bowl of tailless soup splattered over the griffins there.

“Holy – aaargh!” The buck jumped to his hind paws, holding his claws out in front of him for the lukewarm soup to drip down. “You clumsy –” He ended with a word that in any other circumstances would have made Gilda bury her fist in his sternum.

“Sorry,” she apologised instead. “It was an accident. Let me help you clean up –”

“Get your claws off me!” He whapped away the cloth she had pulled from her belt.

“Sorry.” Gilda tried to sound sincere, but her eyes were sliding past him, looking for green feathers and a red scarf.

“You don’t sound very sorry. I want to see the manager! I’ll have you fired! I’ll –”

“I believe she said it was an accident,” said a soft voice. “And she apologised. I do not think such a misfortune is worthy of her job.”

“Who asked you –” the buck snarled, rounding on the speaker. “–Pony?”

“No-one asked me,” Moonbeam replied. “But it is clear that you intend the punishment to outweigh the crime. This displeases me.”

He stared at her with some combination of revulsion and shock. “Displeases you?”

The mare cocked her head to one side. “Are you hard of hearing?”

“Watch yourself, pony. You’re not in Equestria right now.”

“I am not? Thank you for pointing this out. I believe it had escaped my notice.”

“I said watch it!”

“I know what you said. I, for your information, am not hard of hearing.” Moonbeam gave him that same implacable look she had given Gilda over thirty-five minutes earlier. “I believe the vernacular to be used at this juncture is ‘do you want to make something of it?’”

The buck growled. The hen behind him began to spread her wings aggressively. As was always the case in The New Moon, the other patrons began to rumble and flex their own claws in preparation for a fight. Someone somewhere hooted. Damn owl griffins. Always encouraging others to start brawling, but when the Law Guards appeared to break it up they had all mysteriously vanished into the night.

“I’ll tear your guts out, nag!” sneered the soup-covered buck. “I’ll peck out your eyeballs and spit them out so I can grind them under my paw.”

“Big words.” Moonbeam’s wings fluffed. Compared with his, her span was that of a sparrow. “It appears you have a big ego as well. I have known creatures with egos like yours. Generally they fall harder than those who remain humble.”

He snapped his beak at her, aiming for her face. It was an old hunting trick: grab the nose and mouth to make prey panic, then get it off the ground to use your hind claws on its belly while it flailed in pain. Moonbeam danced away. Gilda was amazed her how nimbly she moved. Her hooves barely seemed to touch the floor, though she didn’t beat her wings once. The buck screamed his frustration. His hen clacked her own beak with a low squawk, clearly intending to back him up.

“Fight!”

“Fight!”

“Fiiiiight!”

The crowd closed in. Gilda scrambled up, unwilling to be caught on the floor in the melee. She realised with a start that while watching Moonbeam she had missed the exit of the griffin she had initially bumped into.

“Fight!” yelled a hen beside her.

“Shut up,” Gilda hissed.

“Fuck you!” the hen hissed back.

“In your dreams.”

The hen’s eyes rounded. “You calling me a hen-pecker!?” She opened her claws.

Oh crap, Gilda thought belatedly. Bad move.

“What the hell is going on here!?”

The swinging doors opened to reveal Gavin, ladle brandished like a sword. Beside him stood Ghairbith, the landlord of The New Moon. At the bar, Gertrude had put down the glass she habitually cleaned and had both sets of claws flat against the bar-top, ready to vault it and wade into any brawl that erupted.

“She started it!” the soup-covered buck pointed a claw at Moonbeam, paused, and then shifted the claw to Gilda.

“Gilda?” Ghairbith eyed her.

“I knocked into somegriff and accidentally spilled soup on him.”

“Did you help clean him up and offer him complimentary drinks?”

“I never got that far. He wanted to see you first.”

“I want her fired!” the buck snarled openly.

Ghairbith raised an eyebrow. “The fuck?”

This was, apparently, not the response he had been expecting. “Uh … fired. I want you to fire her.”

“If I may, good sirrah.”Moonbeam stepped forward. “This young sirrah did demand the young lady’s career be terminated forthwith, and when I pointed out the paucity of his reasoning, he verbally and then physically attacked me.”

“Speak common tongue, pony!” yelled someone at the back of the crowd, which had gone still since Ghairbith entered the room.

Moonbeam rolled her eyes. “He said he wanted the waitress fired and when I pointed out how stupid that idea was he yelled at me and then tried to claw my guts out.” She let out a small, frustrated sigh and pulled something from her cloak pocket. “Do you recognise this?”

“That’s the seal of the royal house of Equestria!” Gavin wheezed.

“Indeed. I have the direct ear of all princesses in that realm. I am here as an envoy to investigate the possibility of trade between our nations. I was hoping to enjoy an evening ‘on the town’, as it were, before my business with your leader on the morrow. Instead, I find myself belittled and attacked. My report to princesses will have to include this treatment in my update of how Griffinstone is maturing as a reborn nation following the aid from our Elements of Harmony. However, I could be persuaded to, ah, tailor my retelling if you were to ensure the young lady retains her position and this young ruffian is banned from this establishment.”

Ghairbith’s eyes flared. He was a tried and true businessgriffin. Even when Griffinstone was at its lowest ebb, The New Moon had stayed open and bustling. He knew an opportunity when he saw one. “Fine.”

“Hey!” the buck protested.

“Get out, Garwood. And take your hen with you. I warned you last time to control your temper. Well, this time you’ve sealed your own fate. The pair of you are banned.”

“This isn’t fair!”

“Save it for somegriff who cares.”

Ghairbith nodded to Gilda and Gertrude, who hopped over the bar like a hen half her age. The two of them hustled the now banned griffins through the gap that opened for them in the crowd and tossed them out of the front door.

Ghairbith stamped on the floor to get everyone’s attention. “The rest of you be warned: if there’s one more scrap of trouble tonight, you’re all banned for a week!”

A chorus of groans went up but the crowd dispersed back to their tables and drinks. Gertrude returned to the bar but Ghairbith held up a claw when Gilda tried to go past him into the kitchen.

“Go home, Gilda. You’re done for tonight.”

“But my shift’s only half over –”

“I’ll cover it until Genevieve arrives.”

“Uh …”

He eyed her imperiously. “Get out of here.”

“But why?”

“Because I’m sick of your face, that’s why!” he snapped. In a lower voice he added, “I saw her go out the front door while the pony was talking. If you hurry, you might still catch her.”

Gilda’s beak fell open. Ghairbith was not renowned for his kindness. He was tough, imperious and ruthless with money. ‘Asshole’ was a better description than ‘kind’. She didn’t know what to make of his words.

“Fuck off before I change my mind and make you work a double shift for single pay,” he growled.

She tore off her apron and belt, shoved them hurriedly in their cubby behind the bar and galloped out of the front door. The soup-covered buck and his hen were gone, thankfully, but she wasn’t looking for them. Her eyes scanned the darkened topography of the city, desperately searching for any sign of –

“I waited for you.”

She froze.

“I figured it’d be another half hour for your shift to end.”

Her throat felt dry and sticky. “Ghairbith let me go early.” She tried to swallow but nearly choked. “To see you.” She turned around.

Greta stood half concealed by the deeper shadows of the tavern eaves. Her eyes lowered when Gilda tried to meet them. She scuffed the floor with a claw. “I … I brought a bag of your stuff.”

“What?”

“I found it around my house. Bagged it up. Figured I’d see if you wanted any of it back.”

It’s you I want back, Gilda’s traitorous brain chimed. She forced the thought away before it could get to her mouth. “Oh. That’s … that’s why you came here tonight?”

“It’s just some odds and ends,” Great went on, still not looking up. “A book of recipes, some jewellery, that scarf I made you – I didn’t know if you’d want that but I figured I’d bring it anyhow. I wasn’t sure whether the ugly hat was yours or mine but –”

“Greta, please!” The words burst out of Gilda unbidden.

Greta fell silent.

“I … I don’t want to do this.”

“Do what?” came the mumbled response. “I can throw all this stuff away if you’re prefer.”

“Not that! This!” Gilda swept out a claw, encompassing them both. “I don’t want to break up!”

“I know you don’t.” Greta closed her eyes. “But I do.”

“Look at me!” Gilda screeched.

The other hen finally raised her gaze. “I’m not happy, Gilda. This … us … it doesn’t make me happy anymore.”

“So your solution is to break up with me? No ‘we can work this out’, no ‘let’s try something different’, just ‘I’m leaving you’?”

Great’s throat moved. “Pretty much,” she husked. “Don’t make this harder than it is, Gilly.”

“No!” Gilda shook her head. “You don’t get to call me that anymore!”

“Gilda then.” It didn’t seem to take much to make Greta let go of the affectionate nickname she had created when their friendship deepened into … whatever they had possessed before now. “This is hard on both of us. We shouldn’t make it any harder. You have friends. More than just me now. We should make this a clean break. That’s why I brought your stuff.”

“But I don’t want anygriff else!” Gilda hated the whine in her voice but could not drive it out. “I want you!”

Greta slanted her body so that the sack of belongings slid onto the cobblestones between them. She took a step away. “But … I don’t want you anymore.”

“You don’t mean that! I can hear it in your voice!”

“You can hear that it’s hard for me to say.” Greta took a deep breath. “But it’s true. I think maybe I loved you … but if I did, I don’t anymore. It was … I guess you could call it infatuation. It’s a word ponies use to describe feeling really strongly about something for a while and then... the feeling just … wears off. Infatuation. The feelings I had for you just aren’t there anymore.” She turned her back. “You don’t make me want to be with you anymore.”

“Greta, no! Please!” Gilda begged.

“We were a novelty, Gilda. Nothing more.”

“You can’t mean that!”

“I do. Every word. They’re hard to say because they’re true. Goodbye, Gilda.” Greta opened her wings. “Don’t come over anymore. I won’t open the door to you. Clean break.” She nodded as if to herself. “It’s better this way.” Her wings made a whoomphing noise as she took off into the night.

Gilda wanted to go after her. She wanted to tackle her right out of the sky. But the bag had come open and a jewelled bracelet had slid out. It glittered at her in the dust. She had bought Greta that bracelet with money from her muffin stall. It was the first thing she had ever bought after deciding to stay in Griffinstone and not earn enough to buy her way out of this city.

She wouldn’t cry. She wasn’t some stinking pony who blubbed at every opportunity. She would hold her ground. She wouldn’t even watch that stinking hen turn into a distant speck –

“An impressive show of self-control,” said a voice behind her.

“What the fuck do you want?” Gilda asked throatily.

The click of metal shoes brought four hooves into her field of vision. Gilda lifted her head, refusing to be like Greta. She would face whoever spoke to her, damn it.

“I meant no disrespect.” Moonbeam’s voice was as soft as the blue of her coat. “I was merely concerned when you departed so suddenly.”

“My boss let me go early.”

“Indeed.” Moonbeam looked up into the sky. “I will not ask who that was. I will merely enquire as to your state of mind.”

“Huh?”

Moonbeam frowned briefly, as if thinking how to rephrase her question. “Are you all right?”

“Do I look all right to you, pony?”

“No. You look anything but.”

Gilda faltered. “Then why even ask?”

“I am given to understand that it is a customary question when concerned about the wellbeing of another. The response is immaterial. It is the expression of concern that is paramount. I wish to communicate my concern for you after such a merciless rebuff from the female I assume was your significant other. Or do you prefer the term ‘mate’? I remain unsure of some griffin phraseology, despite my attempts to familiarise myself before my journey hence.”

Gilda stared at Moonbeam. “Why can’t you just talk normal for once?”

“My apologies. I … try.” For the first time, Moonbeam seemed uncomfortable. “It is more difficult than it looks. I generally do not have cause to talk with, ah … hoi polloi. Especially not those outside Equestria. I have friends who try to teach me but some old habits remain difficult to break.”

“Hoi po-what?” Gilda shook her head. “Whatever. Forget it. I’m great. Now fuck off.”

“You are not –”

“Look, I know you’re some big cheese diplomat or whatever, but I’m no concern of yours! Okay? I’m not a royal or a politician or anygriff important like that. I don’t mean anything to you! I’m just your waitress.” Gilda whirled and stalked away down the dark street.

“Why do you assume that an ordinary waitress would not interest me?” Moonbeam trotted after her.

“Stop following me.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s creepy! I know ponies are weird, okay? I have pony friends and they’re … they’re fucking weird sometimes with their love and friendship and touchy-feeling feelings and … and … sometimes it’s okay, maybe even a little nice, but sometimes it just drives me nuts! And right now is one of those times!”

“I have been taught that those times are when someone needs a friend the most.”

“Well whoever taught you that is full of shit.”

“The Elements of Harmony taught me that.”

Gilda stopped in her tracks. “You know the Elements of Harmony?”

“Quite well.” Moonbeam stopped a few seconds later, bringing her up alongside Gilda. “You know them too, I take it?”

“Yeah.” Gilda thought of Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash. If it hadn’t been for them and their meddling, she and Greta would never have become friends, much less … “They’re full of shit too.”

“You don’t mean that.” Moonbeam’s tone was gently cajoling.

“I fucking do.”

“You are in pain right now. The end of a relationship is a terrible time to –”

“Fuck off already!” Gilda swiped out with her claws. She didn’t mean to. It was instinctive. Moonbeam jumped back with that eerie grace of hers and Gilda was left holding nothing but air. She froze for a moment, aghast at herself. “I … sorry.” She laid her claws flat, not even the sharp tips against the cobblestones. “Sorry.”

“You are in pain. I know some of what it is to lash out when one’s heart feels like it is breaking. It is a terrible thing to feel. It is even more terrible to be alone when one is feeling it.” Moonbeam stepped closer. “It caused me to do something I can never take back; something that hurt the pony I loved more than anyone else in the world.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Did you feel better for hurting them?”

“No.”

“So you’re telling me I wouldn’t feel any better if I went and smashed in Greta’s windows right now?”

“I do not think that would help, no.”

“Pity.” Gilda sniffed. “Ah … c-crap …” A bulb of water slid off her beak. She rubbed her left eye with the back of her claws but more bulbs slid down the right side. “Cra-ap.” The invective broke in the middle, as if it had snapped apart to let all her tears out.

Moonbeam laid a tentative hoof on Gilda’s shoulder. “To cry is not to show weakness.” She paused, and then added: “To show weakness is not to be weak.”

“Holy fuck you are so full of sh-shit,” Gilda grunted, scrubbing furiously at both eyes. “A real cheap fortune c-cookie with w-wings.”

“A … what?”

She let out a humourless laugh. “Nothing.”

“Where do you live? I shall escort you home. You should not be abroad in the night like this.”

“Maybe I don’t want to go home. Maybe I want to go to some other dive tavern and get wasted.”

“I believe drinking would be unwise in your current state of mind.”

“Probably. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to though.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

Gilda thought about it. She sagged. “Not really.” A sigh ribboned through her as she told the stupid, interfering pony her address. “It’s only a couple of streets away. I can make it on my own.”

“I will escort you,” Moonbeam said implacably.

“Why are you sticking your snout into my business?” Gilda snapped.

“You are alone and in pain. I would not wish that on any creature. If somepony had concerned themselves with my wellbeing when I was alone and in pain so long ago … then maybe I would not have done what I did. But no. I shut myself away and would not allow myself to be helped. It nearly destroyed me. And again, fairly recently, when I made myself alone to deal with my own guilt and pain, I nearly destroyed myself again. So though you do not know me and I do not know you, I would not see you alone and in pain if I am able to help.”

Gilda considered these words as they walked, side by side, along the ill-lit streets. Griffinstone had built itself up from its ashes in the year since ponies ventured up here for the first time in hundreds of years. It had not yet regained its former glory from ages past, but it was a start. The houses were no longer collapsing and the trees in which they made their homes no longer withered and died from lack of attention. A few leaves twirled past them as they came up to her home.

“You live in a tree,” Moonbeam said with something like surprise.

“Yeah. What of it?”

“But not inside it. Actually in it.”

“So?”

“Did you not have spells to increase the inside to appear larger than the outsider?”

“Say what?”

“Never mind.” Moonbeam shook her head and murmured, “Griffins. So literal.”

“Okay. Well … thanks.” Gilda shuffled awkwardly, unsure what to say next. “You, uh, escorted me home like you said you would.”

“Indeed.”

“I guess you’ll be heading back to The New Moon now.”

“Actually I believe I have had my fill of taverns this night.”

“But you never got any food.”

“I will survive.”

Gilda tapped her tongue against the inside of her beak. “Look, I’m no great baker or anything, but a pony once taught me how to make muffins that are edible, so I always have a stash in my kitchen. You could eat some of those, if that’d … y’know …” She spiralled her wrist. “Whatever.”

Moonbeam stared at her. It was an uncomfortable stare, like she was looking outward and inward at the same time. Eventually she smiled. It changed the whole look of her face from severe lines to something altogether softer.

“Muffins sounds magnificent.”

Gilda frowned. “I wouldn’t go that far, but they won’t poison you, which is a step up from the way they used to be.”

Moonbeam spread her wings. “I would be delighted to dine with you, Miss…?”

“Uh, Goldfeather. Gilda Goldfeather.”

….

Twilight prised her face off the open book. A thin line of drool connected her to the page for a moment before breaking. “Mmrrf?”

“Good day, Twilight Sparkle.”

She snapped to attention. “Princess Luna!” One hasty rub with a foreleg later and she was drool free and looked only somewhat like she had slept slumped against her bookstand again. “I didn’t expect you until noon!”

“It is noon.”

“It is?” Twilight gasped. “I was supposed to take morning tea with Princess Celestia!”

“My sister will not be offended,” Luna chuckled. “She knows how hard the task of raising the moon can be, if you will recall.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Twilight Rubbed at the back of her mane, flattening down what she could. “It wasn’t, y’know, that difficult…” She trailed off at Luna’s expression. “Okay, so it was totally difficult, but I could handle it! Besides, it was only for three nights while you were out of town.”

“Indeed.” Luna smiled and politely pretended not to notice as Twilight hid a yawn.

“So how was Griffinstone? Did you meet with the griffin officials? Did they say yes to the trade agreement?” Twilight fired off questions eagerly.

“I did meet with them and they are thinking about the terms. They have some qualms about allowing unicorns into their territory. Old culture issues,” she said at Twilight’s questioning look. “Unicorns and griffins were at war once upon a time, before the three pony tribes united.”

“Oh, I know. The Hundred and One Years War.” Twilight nodded, pleased she already had that piece of knowledge to offer. She frowned a little. “So … did you like Griffinstone?”

Despite herself, she still felt a little irked that Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie had been called to visit it last year and not her. Even worse, her princessly duties had kept her from visiting since then as well. Even though her friends’ stories had described the place, varyingly, as ‘fun but a bit rundown’ and ‘a total pile of dog doo’, Twilight still ached to visit and learn all about the culture from griffins themselves. It couldn’t be any worse than that disastrous trip to Yakyakistan she had taken with Spike last Autumn. She shuddered at the memory of the Noodle Incident and turned her attention back to the princess of the night.

Luna wore a small, strange smile. Her gaze was fixed somewhere in the middle distance. Twilight turned her head but could see nothing of interest outside her study window.

“Princess?”

“The griffins are … a feeling nation,” Luna replied. “Though they disguise it well.”

“They are?” Twilight thought back to the few griffins she had met: the ultra-competitive sports team, the ultra-perfectionist chef, and the ultra-unpleasant bully. Even Rainbow Dash and Pinkie’s stories of their trip to Griffinstone had detailed Gilda as ‘the grouchiest, douchiest lifesaver ever’. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, I am sure.” Luna closed her eyes, her smile widening just a touch. “I plan to return there when I next am able.”

“Seriously?” Twilight bounced in place. “Could you please take me with you this time? Please, please, please, pleeeeeease?”

Luna laughed. “We shall see, Twilight Sparkle. The future is, as yet, unwritten after all, and a great many strange things may be contained within it that we do not yet know.”

Twilight stopped bouncing. “Well that was a weird answer.”

Luna just continued to smile to herself.

Comments

[PinkiePieFox]

I would like to see a Daring Do Chrysalis

[Skywriter]

This is a nicely atmospheric chapter and it arcs well. Check the spelling on "if you’re prefer" (you'd, I presume).

[PresentPerfect]

"The Elements of Harmony?"

"Ahhh, they're fulla shit!"

I like this a lot. :D

[n8dagr8088]

“Big words.” Moonbeam’s wings fluffed. Compared with his, her span was that of a sparrow. “It appears you have a big ego as well. I have known creatures with egos like yours. Generally they fall harder than those who remain humble.”

this summarizes the entire creation of nightmare moom

[Hey Zunki]

Podría nacer el amor siendo que a Gilda le terminaron hace poco?