Finding Inspiration

by bahatumay

Chapter 14

Wind Shear looked at the sky and frowned. It was really cold today, colder than last week. He shook his head and got back on his typewriter.

Or, he tried to, anyway; but the two buttons just stared blankly back at him and remained stubbornly silent. He exhaled through his teeth and looked out the window again. How was Morning Glory faring in this? Was she alright? Was she freezing?

Maybe she’d already frozen?

At that thought, he groaned and slid out of his chair. Now he had to check, or it would bother him all day.

Within minutes, he was outside, his scarf tied around his neck, flying toward where she lived. He found it again, easily enough. Her place was much closer to the edge of the forest (and by extension, his house) than her last place, which was probably no coincidence.

But when he landed, everything was gone. The tarps had been taken down, leaving the bare pole frame, and nothing else. The fire pit was there, though kicked over with dirt and snow; but when he knelt to touch the rocks around it, they were still a bit warm, as if it had recently been used. He frowned. Why would she do that? What was she doing? With a quick flap of his wings, he was airborne again. He flew over the forest, scanning rapidly for any flash of pink.

But Morning Glory was nowhere to be found. His searching circles grew wider and wider, and as it grew colder, he grew more concerned. Where was she?

Then again, she could clearly take care of herself. And it wasn’t like she’d never had a winter before. Maybe she hibernated? And it had happened too fast for her to tell him? Plausible, but unlikely.

Finally, just as he was about to give up and return home, he spotted a flash of pink down below the trees. Letting out a whoop of relief like he was a colt a quarter of his age, he dropped down and landed in front of her.

Morning Glory yelped. She dropped to a defensive position and bared her fangs, and then relaxed when she recognized him. “Don’t do that!” she scolded, tugging her hood tighter. “Gave me a heart attack-” she shivered, “and I don’t really have the energy to spare.”

“Where are you going?”

“Well, in case you couldn't tell, I'm freezing my snakes and some other important bits off here, and I know where there's a fire swamp out this way. It'll be nice and warm, and I won't have to worry about freezing off the rest of my tail.”

“Well, why?”

“Because I'm slightly cold-blooded?” she suggested, as if it were stupidly obvious.

“No, I mean… why the fire swamp?”

She rolled her eyes. “Same answer.”

“But why are you leaving?”

“Because I run the risk of dying if I don’t! How many times-?”

“But you could stay with me!” Wind Shear blurted.

There was a pause. Morning Glory stared, and even Wind Shear seemed a bit surprised at the words he'd just said.

“Are you… asking me to move in with you?” she asked.

“...maybe?”

She shook her head. “No, no. You don’t just drop something like that and go back with a ‘maybe’. You either are, or you aren’t.”

Wind Shear straightened up and decided to own it like the grown stallion he was. “Yes. Yes, I am. I want you to move in with me.”

“Why?”

Wind Shear licked his lips. He knew why, inside; but all his writing abilities and ways with words seemed to all have taken an immediate leave of absence.

Morning Glory snickered. “Ok, take yourself out of the situation. Imagine you're writing a book, ok? And there's this guy, this character, that you're writing.” She shivered again. “He's not so bright.”

“Ouch.”

“But not wrong. He wants this mare to move in with him. What would he say to her?”

“Well, he'd… theoretically speaking, you know… he'd say it outright. ‘I want you to move in with me’, like that.”

“And if she asks why? What would he say, then?”

“Because he loves her.” He met her eyes. “Because I love you, and I want you in my life. I want you in my life for the rest of my life.” It was the first time he'd said it, but it was true. Again, a very strange and awkward realization (to say nothing of the awkward construction; ‘our lives’ probably would have been better), but not unwelcome at all.

She brushed a snake away from her face. “You're kidding.”

“I am not!” Wind Shear said, somewhat offended by that.

She shook her head. “No, it's just…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked down.

“Just what?” Wind Shear prompted after a moment.

Morning Glory exploded. “No one loves me! I was the one chosen last at the dances, if I was even chosen at all! Even before this,” she gestured at herself, “I was just that weird mare who read too much, was a little too into my flowers, and talked way too much about things nopony else cared about! I’m not attractive, I never have been; I'm terrible at pleasant conversation, I'm afraid of the dark, I've never been in a good relationship, and I've spent every Hearts and Hooves Day alone except for one, and most of that one was him trying to talk me into doing something I wasn't ready for!” She choked. “And he succeeded!” Her voice was desperate. “So why? Why would you want to marry me?”

Wind Shear’s mouth worked wordlessly. “I've… never seen any of that,” he finally said. “I’ve seen a real pony, a pony I've really enjoyed getting to know. You treat me like a normal pony, not like a celebrity or a source of income.”

She brushed a hoof brusquely against her eyes. “Did ponies really do that?”

Wind Shear rolled his eyes. “You have no idea. My first book was a runaway success and mares came out of the woodwork like vultures. I can't remember when my last actual date was, one that wasn't actually a thinly-veiled interview. I don’t think I ever even asked, they invited themselves. It took me a lot longer than I'm willing to admit to realize that most mares do not actually want to go to the fanciest restaurants just to talk about royalties and when the next book is coming out.” He snorted derisively. “Joke would have been on them; they dried up to almost nothing during that hiatus.”

Morning Glory cracked a smile and shivered.

“But you… you're like a thermal updraft. You're real. You're strong, the strongest mare I know. You're independent. You don’t need me; but you hang out with me because you want to, and it’s something we both like doing. And, between you and me, you look great.”

Morning Glory gave a broken chuckle. “You're a liar,” she said, but her heart wasn't in it.

“So…?” Wind Shear prompted.

“Say it.”

“Morning-”

“You have to kneel,” she interrupted. “It's the rules. What kind of cut-rate romance writer are you?”

Wind Shear shook his head. “The kind who proposes without even having a ring.”

She tsked and shook her head back. “Shameful.”

Wind Shear tilted his head. “If you don't want me to-”

“I didn't say that!”

Wind Shear chuckled and knelt into the snow. “Alright, then. Morning Glory, most glorious mare, will you marry me?”

She inhaled slowly, savoring the moment, and then exhaled. “I’d love to.” She shivered again, harder this time. “Can I borrow your scarf?”

Wind Shear smiled. “Definitely.”

Author's Note:

"So, the dark, eh?"
"I… yeah. No real reason why. Just never liked it."
"Maybe it's because flowers don't bloom at night?"
"There are a few that do."
"Huh. Then I've got nothing."
"Heh. Nice try, though."

Comments

[Icarus_Con_Queso]

Yes, that author's note is exactly the interaction I was hoping to see and I really wish I had better commentary than "I love these dorks".