The Voices Told Me to Hug You

by Aquaman

Friends of a Feather (December 2019) [E-Rated] [Gallus] [Silverstream] [Slice of Life]

Even after two years of study at Ponyville’s School of Friendship, there were a lot of things Gallus didn’t understand about pony culture--and rather than being whittled down over the years, the proverbial list instead seemed to grow longer by the day. Were their group song sessions magical, or just impeccably coordinated? How could they all collectively believe there were multiple flavors of hay? Seriously, how in the ever-widening world of Equestria did cutie marks actually work? (Apparently, even the ponies didn’t really have an answer to that last one.)

But most prescient on his mind currently was a simpler but no less crucial query: why, oh why did ponies only drink eggnog around Hearthswarming instead of the whole year round?

Another giant beakful of the stuff did nothing to calm the storm of thoughts rampaging through his mind. This was exquisite, delectable nectar of whatever gods ponies had--Question Number Five: Did Celestia and Luna count?--and yet the ponies only allowed it to be served around the winter holidays. What in the world were they thinking, these pudgy, peace-loving little prey animals--

Gallus grimaced, his last gulp curdling a little in the back of his throat. He’d spent a lot of time over the last couple years working those kinds of thoughts out of his system--those aggressive, antagonistic parts of Griffon culture that seemed endemic in everygriff he’d ever met before coming here. His family--what he supposed he ought to call Grandpa Gruff and the rest of his flockmates--never missed a chance to put down their technicolor neighbors as weaker than them, more cowardly, more blind to what real life was like and how much it usually hurt.

And it did hurt sometimes, of course--that was just the nature of life. But no one back home ever talked about any of the good things life had to offer too, like happy friends and warm fires and eggnog to drink with both. Right now, for instance, he had a mug of the stuff all his own, not to mention a blazing hearth in front of him and, behind him, tinkling laughter from Sandbar and Ocellus as they tried to explain that “decking” the halls didn’t mean what Yona and Smolder thought it meant. This was all good. Great, even.

And yet all it took was one fleeting thought, one bumpy hop back into an old mental rut, and the whole thing seemed soured somehow. Like it didn’t belong to him and never would, and some part of him knew that would never change. The part that made him cover the whole common room in purple goop last year just so his friends wouldn’t leave him alone here. The part that, even now, wondered why exactly they had really stayed in the end.

Gallus rolled his eyes and took another sip of nog. (Question Number Six: Did ponies call it that for short, or was it just something they definitely should do?) As if he hadn’t spent hours upon hours in Counselor Starlight’s--and more recently, Counselor Trixie’s--office going over this very thing. Now, of all times, was not when he should be agonizing over it again. Now was the time to bask in this fire and drink as much of this eggnog as possible, before the ponies inevitably banished it for months in favor of 42 varieties of hay shakes. Which, positive thinking notwithstanding, were all objectively gross. That wasn’t negative, that was just true.

“Hey, Gal-Pal. Enjoyin’ the nog?”

Ha! Another vote for his “nog” nickname. Gallus made a mental note to thank Silverstream later for supporting his beverage-renaming campaign, and to never ever acknowledge what she’d just called him. “Yes, I am,” he replied as Silverstream flopped onto the couch next to him, one talon hooked around a cup of her own. “And I’m gonna keep enjoying it until I physically can’t anymore.”

“You might wanna stop at some point,” Silverstream said with a giggle and a friendly nudge. “Don’t wanna have to roll you outta here.”

“To which I reply with that most famous of griffon catchphrases: ‘no promises.’” Another sip gave Gallus time to reconsider his statement. “Well, second-most famous. Most famous is probably still ‘Go away,’ except screamed really loud and with a bunch of claws showing.”

Gallus chuckled, and Silverstream did too, but she fell silent a few moments before he did. “I’m not kidding,” Gallus added, grinning. “They really do say that a lot. It’s kind of our thing.”

“It’s not your thing, though,” Silverstream replied. “You’re super friendly!”

“I’m also blue. Not exactly your typical catbird over here.”

“That just means you’re special, doesn’t it?”

Gallus bit back another smart response. Positive thinking, echoed Starlight’s voice from inside his head. “I guess it does,” he ultimately intoned. “Thank you, Silverstream.”

“You’re welcome, Gallus,” Silverstream replied, feigning formality to match his for a moment before her face split into a grin and she dissolved into a giggle-fit. Once it ended with a snort and a bubbly sigh, though, her face softened again as she glanced him up and down, like a doctor examining a patient who swore he wasn’t sick. He wasn’t sick, as a matter of fact, but he wasn’t blind either.

“The others send you over here?” he asked coolly. He supposed that would be in character for them--he had been sitting over here alone for a while, after all, and he did have a bit of an unfortunate history with this holiday.

“Nope!” Silverstream chirped. “Just looked like a comfy fire.”

“Hmm.”

A log shifted within the fireplace, spraying a cloud of sparks into the air that evaporated before they reached the brick surface of the hearth. Admittedly, it was nice having company over here, even if all they did together was sip their respective drinks and soak some delicious heat into their winter-blasted feathers. Whatever her reason was, he appreciated it. He realized suddenly that he ought to tell her so.

“I’m--” he began.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Silverstream said.

Gallus blinked. For once, he found himself without a quick retort. “I mean it,” Silverstream said. “I know last year was really hard for you, and… well, I know it’s a little awkward now too.”

Before he could think to hide it, Gallus winced. “Am I that obvious?”

“Not reeeeally,” Silverstream lied. “I mean, you do have a tell. Any time you get quiet and sort of huddle off to the side like this, that’s a dead giveaway. Also, you kind of brood a bit, like…” Silverstream puffed out her cheeks and put on a look that suggested either deep consideration or stomach pain. “Not exactly like that, but you know what I--”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I brood. I’m a brooder,” Gallus conceded with a smile. “And yeah, I guess I… I don’t know. I’m glad I’m here too. It’s just the holidays are… they’re, um…”

“A reminder,” Silverstream finished for him. “Of… things you thought you were past.” When Gallus looked over at her, she was staring at the floor. “The Storm King attacked Mount Aris a week before Hearthswarming,” she went on. “Last year we were still celebrating being free, and everything went fine and all, but this year it’s… I don’t know either, I guess.”

“It feels like you’re backsliding,” Gallus said, repeating a word he’d heard Starlight use once. “Like, everything’s going great, but you’re so used to it not being great that you…”

“... keep waiting for it all to go wrong again,” Silverstream finished before putting on a wry grin. “Yep. Pretty much nailed it. Hooray for reliving trauma!”

Gallus shrugged and raised his nog glass. “‘Tis the season,” he said as Silverstream clinked her cup against his. They spent a moment draining their respective drinks--honestly, how could the ponies possibly have the willpower to go without this for so long?--and then returned to staring at the fire.

“I’m glad you’re here too,” Gallus eventually murmured. He didn’t look at Silverstream and she didn’t look at him, but after a few seconds he felt the weight of her head nestle into his shoulder. They stayed like that, anchored to the couch and to each other, until the tempest in each of their heads simmered down into a squall. At least, that was what Gallus got out of it. He had to imagine it had been good for Silverstream too.

Question Number Whatever: Do ponies do ‘phrasing’?

On second thought, some questions were probably best left unanswered.

Author's Note:

Seriously, though, I don't actually know how fictional characters are supposed to bond other than by reliving trauma. Sports fandom? Their mom's names? It's a mystery.

This one wasn't technically a speedwrite entry, but it was a Secret Santa-esque gift for another member of the speedwrite server. It's also now the second time I've written about my precious blue birb son, which is frankly embarrassing on a personal and professional level. Gotta figure out how to do that furry-OC-adoptable thing, but with a canon character for a dead show.

Comments

[PresentPerfect]

Shockingly not shipping. :O

[Jack of a Few Trades]

Little quiet moments between two characters who care about each other are the fuel that keeps me going. This was a treat, thanks for writing it :)