• Published 10th Aug 2018
  • 2,266 Views, 242 Comments

Out of Love - Carapace



That little filly from Cloudsdale has blossomed into a true mare of Respite with the help of those not-quite altruistic twins. But outside the village gates, the world is changing fast.

  • ...
12
 242
 2,266

14. Open Hearts and Ears

It didn’t take empathic tasting for Esalen to see how Sure Stroke’s troubles ate at her, nibbling piece by piece like a school of fish eating bread off the surface of Lake Neighagara.

Two and a half years had taught her much about the pegasus’s body language. It wasn’t so different than the average pony—their ears and eyes always betrayed their feelings, no matter how they tried to smile and keep their shoulders squared to pretend everything was just fine. All of them did it, with some slight variation.

The pegasi, however, were the easiest to read. Their wings never failed to betray their hearts.

And Sure Stroke’s dusty violet wings sagging, hanging just a touch low against her sides before she would try to force them to fold tight and affix that smile to her muzzle were as plain as the lights in Manehattan.

Esalen frowned as she followed along with Toola’s warm up stretches. She blew a deep breath through her nose, fighting back a bit of a grimace as she arched her back like a cat and tried to look up toward the ceiling. Not an easy task when she was trying to glance sideways at Sure Stroke.

That fake smile faltered, whether to melancholy or the effort of the stretch itself, Esalen couldn’t say without tasting her emotions.

“Breathe, Doodle,” Toola instructed gently. The bubbly mare was in her element, yet, quite oddly enough, not so giggly or teasing.

Rather, she was a lot like Caress. Careful, patient, and just a bit subdued, but with a hint of forcefulness to her tone. That sort of confidence in knowing which muscles were worked by each stretch, the importance of breathing and calmness, and how to nudge a pony along.

A sharp, deep inhale made Esalen flick an ear. Sure Stroke closed her eyes, blowing a breath out her nose as she lowered herself to lay on the yoga mat.

“Take extra time when you do these back stretches,” Toola said as she deftly spun about to face them. “Especially you, Doodle. Pegasi tend to get a lot more tension because of their wings and you know all about what happens when those are injured.”

A ghost of a smile flitted across Sure Stroke’s features. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Mom was always really big on that.”

“Wish she’d have drilled it into Zippy a bit more, eh, Essy?”

“His were workout and fatigue aches,” Esalen replied with a wave of her hoof to banish Sure Stroke’s worried glance. “Nothing major.”

“Oh.” Sure Stroke let out a sigh and shook her head. “That makes sense. I’d imagine the guards are just now getting a break after the Long Night.”

Humming, Esalen nodded. “He’s been visiting pretty often.”

“Almost daily,” Toola corrected. She shifted into what she called the table position, a weird stance on her forehooves and hind knees, and motioned for them to follow. “How about you, Doodly-Doodle? How’s art therapy been treating you?”

Just as quickly as relief flashed across her face, Sure Stroke’s fell once more. She fidgeted in position, her wings rustling as though she were uncomfortable.

Esalen poked the tips of her tongue out and masked a grimace at the taste. Abandoning pretense, she turned to gaze into the side of her friend’s face. “Are you not enjoying it?” she asked.

Sure Stroke shook her head so fast her ponytail whipped about. “No. I mean—I don’t enjoy seeing ponies or changelings suffering, of course. Who would?” The mare flashed a thin, uneasy smile. “I like the helping part, though. It’s rewarding, and a bit gratifying in its own little way.”

The changeling’s grimace threatened to twist into a frown. That sounded like something her mother would say when trying to hide her mental exhaustion from her nymphs. That want to assure them, yes, she enjoyed what she did even if she loathed to see her clients in pain.

Something to do with those “helping” trades, if Esalen recalled. A mental state that had the tendency to eat away until those in the trade felt they just couldn’t cope.

But normally, that was after constant exposure to seeing clients or patients suffering some maladies. This soon?

More than likely, Sure Stroke was in a bit of a shock seeing ponies and changelings dealing with such issues. The poor mare had always been rather sensitive.

Which Toola knew all too well. “But,” she supplied as she guided them to stick their left hind leg out and roll back on it.

Sighing, Sure Stroke hung her head and said, “I guess it didn’t quite dawn on me that listening to their problems could be so taxing—no, that’s not quite the right word.” The mare shook her head, her wings rustling. “I don’t know how to describe it. It’s just … hearing them talk about their problems can just make me feel like mine don’t compare.”

There it was. Just like Esalen once heard her own mother bemoan to her father out on the pod couch one night, when they thought she and Aspire had fallen asleep.

She stopped her stretching and reached over to give Sure Stroke a firm poke to her shoulder. “Comparing your problems to someone else’s is only going to lead to you feeling low, Sure Stroke.” Esalen furrowed her brows. “Everyone has problems they deal with. Just because yours aren’t as bad as others’ don’t make them any lesser.”

“For the longest time, new ponies thought I was bullied because Nimmy and the others loved to tickle me,” Toola threw in. “Sure, it can get annoying when I’m having a bad day, but I also know it’s my sister and my friends trying to cheer me up and think about something else. Took a while to get a few of them to understand that I liked it.” Pausing a beat, she glared at the pair. “If either of you tell Nimmy or the boys, I’ll … do … something. I’ll do something and it will be unpleasant!” she declared with a wild wave of her hoof.

“Oh, love no.” A wicked grin spread across Esalen’s face. She shared a quick wink with a giggling Sure Stroke and said, “I’ll just save that for the next time you’re a whiny, sleepy Toola in the morning.”

The look of utter dismay coupled with the heavy blush coloring Toola’s cheeks a deep read drew a fit of chittering and laughter from Esalen and Sure Stroke. They grinned and waggled their ears as Toola buried her face in her hooves and cried, “Noooooooooooooo! You can’t!”

“I can.”

“She would,” Sure Stroke added. “And so would I.”

Toola gasped and peeked through her hooves to huff at Sure Stroke. “Traitor!”

“Oh, please. That ship sailed years ago. Besides, you turned on me first, gigglebox, so don’t even try that routine!”

“Two and a half years ago! And you were a shy, skittish Doodle!” The mare goggled at Sure Stroke, then turned an incredulous look upon Esalen. “Back me up here, Essy! I did her a favor!”

Esalen wisely held up her hooves, a playful smirk spread across her features. “I’m not fool enough to get in the middle of your tickle feud,” she teased. “But let’s get back on track here.”

“Oops! Right, sorry!” Toola rubbed her mane and gave her tail a nervous flick. “Anyway, they used to think me getting tickle attacked almost every day was a problem. Which, I thought was silly because they were coming to Respite for their own problems, and those were way bigger than me being tickled on days I didn’t really want to be. I ended up talking with Faith and Queen Euphoria about it, and they sat everyone down and had a talk with all of us about how whatever we felt was important to recognize and understand, no matter how small it seemed compared to others’ stuff. And then mom told Nimmy to not tickle me when I really meant no, so it all worked out in the end.”

Not quite comparable, of course. A fact Esalen could see reflected in Sure Stroke’s eyes without need for tasting. But so too did she see how her friend took a moment to consider the words, her right hoof tapping a little rhythm against her mat and feathers twitching.

So something was eating at her on top of that stress she was dealing with in trying to help her clients. Esalen might not be the type of changeling to try her fortunes at Las Pegasus, but she knew where to put her wagers.

With the exception of doing so against Toola Roola in chess. It was a fool’s errand, but she’d get a win. Someday. Eventually.

Maybe.

She shook her head, scolding herself for drifting off course again. She was indeed a betting changeling and she knew just where to put her proverbial bits.

“Is this about how Enticier sounded in his letters?” Esalen asked. “Or are you worried about how Aspire took it when he saw those last couple?”

The slight drooping of Sure Stroke’s ears confirmed it. She sighed and let her wings sag so her feathers splayed out over the mat and wooden floor, and gave a solemn nod. “Yes,” she murmured. “Both, really. Enticier’s our friend, of course, and I hate to hear he’s going through such a difficult time. And Aspire …”

Esalen could hardly blame her friend for how she abandoned their stretching and let her gaze fall to the floor. Her brother, Sure Stroke’s boyfriend, was a snarky, smug little punk who loved his terrible jokes, winding his loved ones up, wrestling, and kissing his girlfriend until she squirmed and fluffed her feathers so.

Aspire subdued and melancholic? Only twice in her life could she recall him being in such a state.

It was no coincidence both times came when they were forced to say goodbye to Grandma Cloudfluff and Grandpa Beguile one last time.

With a mouthed apology to Toola, Esalen abandoned the stretch routine so she could slide over to place a hoof upon Sure Stroke’s shoulder. “He didn’t react the way you’re used to,” she supplied.

Sure Stroke gave a shaky nod. A solitary tear rolled down her snout and hung precariously from her nose. “How’d you guess?”

“I’ve known him literally my entire life and his, so I know how one might expect him to react to that.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “Unfortunately, I also know that’s exactly how he’d react to something like what Enticier’s dealing with and how he tried to hide it.”

Her friend gave a snort mixed with a choked sob. The tear fell and splattered upon her yoga mat. “I’ve been together with him for two years and I’ve never seen him so upset.” Sure Stroke brushed the back of her hoof across her eyes. “Between Enticier and a couple of my clients, I feel like my heart’s been put in a vice already. Aspire, though …”

Toola slid over and settled on her opposite side. “You don’t have to explain it.” She nuzzled Sure Stroke’s cheek, pausing to give a chaste kiss. “It’s not easy to hear that a friend is hurting, or see it.”

“Or my brother,” Esalen added. “I’m sure they’ll be fine in the long-run.”

She felt the smile tugging at Sure Stroke’s lips, just a hint of sweet, delectable joy played upon her tongue.

Sighing, Sure Stroke slid a wing up to wrap around them and held them in a close embrace. “Thanks, girls.” She brushed a hoof across her eyes again and sniffled. “I guess I just wish I could do some silly, Doodly thing and make him happy.”

With a small, supportive smile of her own, she leaned her cheek against Sure Stroke’s and said, “Well, maybe not a silly, Doodly thing this time.” Esalen turned and gave an affectionate lick, then whispered in her ear, “But I think a nice, sweet, loving Sure Stroke thing might go a long way.”

Those dusty violet ears perked. “I can do that.”

“Oh, honey.” Esalen chittered and nuzzled her cheek once more. “There’s no better mare for the job.” She paused a beat, then grinned and nosed the mare. “Now, come on. If we don’t finish this yoga routine, Toola might get whiny and huffy and I won’t be allowed to tickle it out of her this time.”

Toola didn’t cry out, she didn’t huff. Instead, she simply looked over and gave a dangerous smile which promised retribution. Then, dotting Sure Stroke with another kiss to her cheek, she stood and trotted back to her mat. “Yes, let’s continue. And then, we can head home and discuss the terms of Essy’s loss.”

A shiver ran down the changeling’s spine.

She’d definitely pay for that crack later.


There was indeed something cleansing about following along with Toola’s yoga routines, in a sort of esoteric sense that the scientific couldn’t quite cover. More than just the lactic acids being worked from the muscles through the use of slow, selective stretches and deep breathing, but that sort of feeling of finding one’s center and using it to banish all stress or worry.

This, Esalen felt herself as she walked home with Toola and Sure Stroke by her side. Sure, her own worries and stress weren’t quite as great as her pegasus friend’s, it did help to let those of seeing the parade of Village Guards worn ragged as they came in off patrols and drilling for treatment.

Especially Vector, the stubborn fool.

She tugged the front door open with a deft flick of her magic and bade the mares enter first, earning herself a little kiss beneath her jawline and a flirt of Toola’s curly, tricolored tail beneath her chin.

In broad daylight, no less! Someone was looking for a bit of trouble all her own.

Or, Esalen realized, Toola had every intent of making sure she got as much out of her winnings as possible.

She swallowed a mouthful of slime and promptly cursed overactive glands and their tendency to act up when she got nervous. Changelings were supposed to be the teasing, flirty ones, darn it!

Someone had clearly forgot to tell the likes of Toola Roola, Cool Breeze, or even Sure Stroke.

Esalen managed to beat back a heated flush beneath her cheeks as she stepped inside and pulled the door shut, just in time to see Toola and Sure Stroke standing together in the living room, looking down at Aspire’s sprawled form laid out across the pod cushion.

Her brother lay with a hoof thrown across his face, covering his eyes as best the hole-ridden limb could. His messy blue mane looked more disheveled and unruly than ever, and his lips seemed tugged in a tired frown. Worry creased his handsome cheeks in such a way that drove a lance of pain through her chest.

She knew why.

But that didn’t make the taste of angst and worry upon her tongue when she flicked it to confirm any easier.

As the door latch clicked into place, Aspire’s ears twitched once. He lifted his hoof and raised his head just slightly off the pod couch so he could greet the mares with a tired, forced smile.

Esalen sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. She’d always hated that one, even more than the smug smirk he wore before telling some terrible joke or pun.

“Hey, girls,” he slurred, rubbing his eyes. Pulling a face, he opened his mouth wide and let his tongue loll as a rolling, chittering yawn forced its way from the back of his throat, then smacked his lips. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off.” Aspire sat up, blinking owlishly to chase away the remnants of sleep, and offered that same weak smile to Sure Stroke. “How was work with mom today?”

Sure Stroke didn’t answer quite the way he expected. Instead, she stepped forward, a small smile spread across her features and leaned in to nuzzle his nose. Her feathers fluffing, she took another step forward, gently pushing him back to lay on the couch until she could slide herself onto the gelatinous pod and lay herself atop him.

He blinked again. “Uh … Sure Stroke, what—”

She silenced him with a kiss. “Tiring,” the pegasus murmured. “Good tiring, I think. I helped someone. But now, I’m home.” She kissed him again to forestall any comment or question he might concoct. “And I’m with you, and tomorrow we’ll see Enticier and everything is going to get better.”

Worry flitted across Aspire’s face once more. He wrapped his hooves around her, almost as a want for security as that to hold his girlfriend close, and buried his snout in her shoulder. “Yeah, I hope so.”

Sure Stroke leaned back and cupped his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. “It will be.” Another kiss, followed by a slow, affectionate lick to his nose. “He’ll be fine.”

He drew in a shaky breath and made as though to speak, but faltered. For once, he was at an utter loss for words.

She didn’t let him linger on it. Sure Stroke pressed the advantage, shifting her weight forward and cupping his cheeks in her hooves so she could plant a flurry of fluffy, sweet kisses upon his lips, his cheeks, even his jawline. Her wings unfurled and feathers fluffed as she trailed her primaries up his sides, spurring a little gasp and shiver in his hind leg.

Aspire’s hooves tightened around her, a deep, contented purr rolled in the back of his throat as he moved to return her affections with vigor. His dour mood evaporated in the face of Sure Stroke’s love.

It took no small bit of self-control for Esalen not to give a happy purr of her own. This, she decided, was right and good.

Her world was in balance.

At her side, Toola Roola leaned over to nose against her cheek, pushing her down the hallway to their room. “You schemer,” she whispered once they were out of earshot.

Esalen flicked an ear and hummed. “What ever do you mean?”

“Don’t give me that.” Soft lips pecked just beneath her jawline. “I saw that look in your eyes in my office, and again just now. You were scheming the whole time you listened.”

A wise mare, her love. Far wiser than most would give the bubbly, bouncy little thing credit for.

The changeling stopped and turned, stepping into Toola’s path so they were nose to nose. “Clever mare,” she purred, grinning a fanged grin at how the mare’s breath hitched and cheeks flushed. “A changeling is always scheming. Me? More than you know. My loved ones’ happiness is always high on my list.” Esalen flirted the tips of her forked tongue across Toola’s lips. “The three of you, at the very top.”

Toola swallowed a lump, her ears splaying as a smile spread with her growing blush. “Y-You’re off the hook tonight,” she squeaked.

“Am I?”

“Just tonight! The rest of the week, though, no freebies!”

Fixing her girlfriend with a half-lidded, smoldering look, Esalen turned her head and leaned up to lick the tip of her ear. “What if I insist that you reconsider and show me a taste of what I’m in for? I’m very curious.”

Lost wagers or not, Esalen was quite pleased to claim victory on the most important battlefields—a happy couple putting aside their stress and worry for the time being and her personal treasure blushing, stammering, and beaming eagerly beneath her gaze.

So she was the same greedy changeling she’d always been in that regard. Could one really fault her for such a crime?

Author's Note:

Something something updates, something something midterms. Something witty, something punny. Idk.