VII ~ The Watcher's Night
VII
The Watcher’s Night
~ Vanhoover, Equestria ~ Year 1 of the Era Harmoniae ~
—Three thousand years later
The Sun’s rays bore down on Vanhoover and its citizens, in these last days of Summer. Yet in the heat of day, the workers toiled on. Vanhoover counted all the Three Tribes among its people, and here the earthponies laboured. On and on they went, lifting, pulling and pushing, all for another month’s worth of pay. Bricks were delivered, heavy steel beams raised, nails hammered in anf countless and screws turned. It was hardship, yet their effort would be given compensation, and the day would pass into laughter and drink and other such worldly pleasures.
For one grey earthpony, her duty never stopped, as she carried her own share of the load. She stood taller than many, and stronger still. That meant she often bore the most.
But she saw in this no reason for complaint. It was activity she cherished, or came as close as she could to enjoying.
So, when the final load was dropped off, as the building’s last few bricks were set in place, the tall mare took the time to listen to the sighs of relief, all around her. Though they would never reside in this building, payday lay right around the corner. It wasn’t much, she mused, but it was enough for her, even as her mind went to her greater duty, her labour, and her uncertain future.
Life went on, after all.
* * * * *
Laying down on her side, the tips of her hooves hanging off the edge, the earthpony heard her colleagues’ voices grow distant, each of their voices disappearing one by one as they lined up to exit down the stairwell.
She was alone now, as always.
The price she had paid since time immemorial.
Never to intervene, the closest being when a sister of hers was left lonely at the top for so long. There had she walked, ever unseen, standing by in the event that the Sun were to be eclipsed by the darkness too, a darkness that never came to be in the Long Peace that Celestia had presided.
Galatea looked up, at the cloud-covered Sun. It was past noon. A few hours to go.
She turned her gaze, taking in the sight of the city from up here. A ten-storey skyscraper, this now was, and it offered her a more than decent view of this old city. Completed, at long last. One last watch from up high, then, and her work here would be done as well, for the time being.
She stood up, stretched a little bit, then headed down, waiting for the Moon to rise under the control of her youngest sister, as it had a thousand years ago, and again these past two months.
‘As it should be…’
Ponies found many occupations in their leisure time, Galatea had discovered, as the world evolved to create greater time for leisure even amongst the workforce. Right now, her erstwhile colleagues might be going bowling. Or to an affordable spa. Or the theatre, either for a play or the moving pictures. Games of cards and dice were still as popular as they'd been in centuries. There'd likely be visits later to the night-clubs, both for those who watched the dancers or those who danced themselves.
Dances… Music, merriment…
Her taste for frivolity, if ever it had blossomed, had remained somewhere embedded, and lodged, within that night a very long time ago, when a tiny hamlet had celebrated the completion of its longhall and much raucousness had been shared over mead.
A visit to the nearby bar ought to clear her mind, Galatea concluded, just as it had throughout the last couple of weeks.
And so she went.
* * * * *
Royal Guards at peace weren’t the calmest of bunches, Snow Mist mused. Especially in a Downtown Vanhoover bar like this. During what they called the quiet hours of the day, on top of that, when few other patrons were around. Holding down a sigh, she resisted an urge to scratch the back of her right wing, where the soreness still acted up at times like this in particular.
“Look at that one, Sarge,” Icewind whispered. “D’you reckon she’s available?”
Snow Mist looked over her copy of The Vanhoover Sun, to where Icewind was pointing. She blew a raspberry, shaking her head. The naïvete of a cadet’s mind knew no bounds.
“Keep dreaming, Ice,” Mist teased, “you’re not getting her.”
Chuckling at her colleague’s indignant huff, she returned to her paper. The headline was the change in weather-maintenance schedule. Business as usual, she decided.
They were sitting at one of the tables, waiting for Icewind’s old friend and fellow cadet to return from the post office. Winter Truce had insisted he send the letter by himself, thus Snow Mist and Icewind saw fit to wait on him. Of course, the flirtatious cadet she was stuck with had already begun to let his mind wander. To his credit, he was keeping his voice mostly quiet. Mostly.
“You sure?” Icewind replied, cheekily. The grey pegasus chuckled. “I think I might.”
Sighing, Mist peered over her newspaper again to take a closer look at the mare in question.
The earthpony was sitting over at the bar, leaning on the countertop, with only the occasional flick of her dark braided tail to indicate she wasn’t a statue. The patchwork travelling cloak she wore was pushed aside, exposing most of her light grey figure, lighter than Icewind’s own distinctive coat, albeit bearing a mark in the form of a pale grey eye.
“She’s grey all over,” said Mist, glancing at Icewind. “I thought you liked redheads.”
“Might as well try, though,” Icewind countered. “She’s not half-bad.”
Mist returned to look at the mare again. Still at the countertop, and still sitting idly. Only now did Mist notice she was ever so slightly taller than one might expect. Slender, yet athletic, from her long, toned legs, to her firm, well-defined chest, partially hidden beneath her cloak…
Then Mist realised that her cheeks felt warm, and she tore her gaze away.
“Yeah, I guess so,” she said, coughing to hide her fluster. “Aren’t you gonna try?”
“Gotta be patient, Sarge,” said Icewind, shrugging. Mist laughed.
“Yeah, okay, you're not going anywhere if you’re second-guessing yourself all the time,” she said. “You see your chance, you take it.”
“Easy for you to say,” Icewind said, with a scoff. “I’d like to see you try then.”
Mist tapped her chin, briefly. She smiled slyly.
“Okay, then.” She stood up, only pausing to furtively check herself over. Especially a certain spot behind her right wing… Fortunately, it was well concealed in the dim light of the bar. “I mean, I’m not exactly into mares, but let’s see if ol’ Misty’s still got the charm.”
* * * * *
It hadn’t taken long for Snow Mist to think that this time around, she might have gotten herself in too deep. In record time no less. Fifteen minutes from her flippant declaration to that upstart Icewind, to her sitting awkwardly with the mare they'd both been eyeing. It was only by luck that after having flubbed her opening line (‘Darn it, Mist’) and picked up a snicker from Icewind, Mist was hearing the mare politely tell her she could sit by her side.
And Galena was a peculiar mare. The good kind of peculiar, she hoped.
“So, Manehattan, huh?” Mist said, taking a sip from her glass. Galena nodded. The earthpony's icy blue eyes were much like her own, if a little colder, coupled with the contemplative gaze. “Thought you were from Vanhoover University.”
“Yes,” Galena affirmed. “Third year. Geology.”
‘So… twenty-one-ish, then…’
“Uh-huh… and uh, what brings ya to Vanhoover?” Mist followed up. “Ain’t exactly a place anyone looks toward for a vacation.”
“I’m inclined to disagree,” retorted the mare. “I find it a fine place. Yet it is true, I did not come here for mine vacation.”
“You got a real funny way of talking there, no offence,” Mist replied. “Just saying.”
She looked at Galena, from top to bottom. She really was tall. Not quite as tall as Princess Celestia, but a tall mare nonetheless. Elegant too, both in her accent – probably from someplace near the Griffish Isles, or Canterlot – and in her figure. Even so, the grey mare looked as if she had spent the day out and about in the Sun, from her toned, well-defined forelegs and–
“Is something wrong?” Galena spoke, with a frown, and suddenly Mist felt very self-conscious. Folding her wing against herself, she averted her gaze, coughing, all the while preferring to stare into her glass of beer.
“No, no, nothing, nothing,” she said, taking another sip, tipsy by now. “Just…”
She thought for a moment.
“I like the way you talk,” said Mist, downing another sip. “There. It’s… no, it ain’t wrong, just unique, I guess. Vanhoover don’t exactly got much in the way of accents, so it’s kinda funny to hear Griffish… from Manehattan.”
“I see,” said Galena, simply. “It is a rare accent.”
“Pish, tell me about it,” Mist replied, chuckling. “Still, fancy gal like you, here in Vanhoover? Qnd here I thought Winter Truce was the only one who'd gone posh… Doesn't use quite the same fancy accent, but yeah, you get me.”
The mare shrugged. “I’ve taken an academic break,” she said. “I thought spending mine Summer here working would be good experience.”
Galena glanced down at her forehooves. Although kept clean, Mist could see they were chipped here and there, and upon closer inspection of Galena’s youthful face, she saw there were tired bags under her eyes.
“Experience is the best teacher,” Mist replied. “You’re gonna need a lot of those, college girl.”
“Oh, don’t I know it, Sergeant. I’ve been here a while, I’m sure you’ve noticed. There is more to life than books, of course,” Galena said wistfully, which she followed up by locking her eyes with Snow Mist's, calmly sipping from her glass. “And it wouldn’t hurt to get more experience under mine belt, wouldn’t it?”
They both stayed silent, for a while. At the corner of her lips, Mist thought she saw a smile tugging at Galena's face..
“Guess so,” said Mist. “A Royal Guard’s job is never done, but well...”
She flicked her mane, with a half-lidded gaze and a smirk. She hadn’t bothered tying her long-bob mane into a proper bun, yet she didn’t particularly care at the moment.
Now to live up to her own advice.
“Honestly? I’ve… I’ve had my eyes on you for some time,” Mist said, diving into the words. “This here bar's gotten a little brighter since you showed up. If you’d like, we could continue this elsewhere. If you got time, that is.”
This was a half-truth, Snow Mist privately admitted to herself. She had indeed spotted the mare here from time to time, long before Icewind openly pointed her out. A face in the crowd, Mist had thought then. But now, looking at her…
Well. Excitement was putting it lightly. It had been a while.
Galena pondered this for but a moment. And she nodded, and even without looking, Snow Mist could tell Icewind’s jaw had dropped at that exact instant, behind her back.
A part of her wanted to gloat at Icewind right then and there. But her heart’s pounding and flutter convinced her otherwise.
“I’ve got time,” said Galena, “mine work is complete in Vanhoover. Some break ought to do it.”
“I’ll bet,” Mist agreed. “This is– well, you did say you’re one to spare change…” She rummaged her thoughts. “Windy Peaks Hotel,” she decided. “Not the most upmarket of places, but… I hope it’s good enough.”
“Windy Peaks it is. It’s good enough.” said Galena primly. “When does your shift end?
“Ah… around seven,” Mist replied. “Gotta get cleaned up first and all, you know."
The other mare nodded. “Then I'll meet you at the lobby, half past eight. And please, no alcohol.”
Mist smirked at that. She pushed her glass away, still feeling a little tipsy, of course, but in four hours, give or take, she ought to be just fine. The anxiety would be future Mist’s problem, alright.
“What are we, Canterlot?” she said, chuckling. “No alcohol. Got it.”
* * * * *
With the passing years, Galatea had long worked out a usual pattern to her trysts.
Yet somehow it always did feel fresh with each new partner that came to her doorstep, creative or otherwise. Whether it was her preference, or part of her mission to observe, as she had long told herself, Galatea could not tell. For in the end, there was no distinction. A part of life for her to experience.
She lay there on the couch down at the lobby of the Windy Peaks. Still cloaked, yet opposite her prospective partner. The hotel was an old one, one of the first built when Vanhoover was only a small port town many centuries ago. Even now, it remained a humble little abode – and personally, one of the most comforting, with its wooden facade and rustic design.
Worth its price, Galatea surmised. And a pleasant enough place to spend the night in, for the lower-end district it was situated in.
She glanced at Snow Mist, taking in the sight of her. Sleek, yet firm, and of such pleasant colours, given the shade of light blue to her coat, and a snow-white mane equally streaked with said blue. Her gaze drifted towards the mare's body – fit, well-kept, the hallmarks of a Royal Guard. Athletic and alluring, with a firm flank. Galatea surmised that for most ponies, the flank was most attractive. That was what she'd concluded from her own feelings that surfaced, in the heat of the moment. And a pegasus’ wings always allowed for some unorthodox romps in bed.
And there on the flank lay her mark. Three little snowflakes, the wind blowing them away.
Galatea looked at Mist’s face. She frowned upon seeing the mare's nervous lip-bite, her pretty eyes darting left and right.
“You look pale, Mist,” said Galatea, with a raised eyebrow.
“Do I?” Mist asked. “I guess, yeah…”
She shrugged, letting out a nervous chuckle.
“It’s– just, well, my… first time. With a mare! First time with a mare, it’ll be my first time, gah.”
“You’ve mentioned that before,” Galatea noted. “You seemed confident, before we left the bar.”
“Yeah. I guess. Sorry, heh. Join the Guard and… go right back to being a teenager.”
“I see,” said Galatea. “From mine experience, the anxiety tends to fade away with arousal.”
Mist’s cheeks reddened. “Gosh, are you always this direct?”
“When needed.”
“As if I need it right now.”
Galatea responded with a shrug. “Perhaps not,” she said. “But soon, yes.”
Mist didn’t say much to that, providing only another nervous chuckle as her reply. And as with many occasions prior, events faded into a clinical blur for Galatea. A routine check in. A walk up the stairs, side by side. Stolen glances from her partner, glances she returned in kind.
Snow Mist was the nervy sort in private, Galatea could tell. Not a trace of this anxious side had been visible at the bar, but Galatea didn’t mind. The genuine sorts always stayed in her mind, long after they parted. And perhaps the mare by her would remain as well.
They arrived at their room, N° 42. Galatea led the way, pushing the door open. They were welcomed with an old, large double-bed, with a futon and a bedrest, draped in a simple brown-and-grey pattern sheet. Across the futon was a small fireplace, though Winter would not be here for a few months, and the dim lamps gave the needed light.
Galatea walked in further, and stood between the futon, and the fireplace. The window to the outside was closed shut, and only the shine of her sister’s Moon shone through it.
The door locked with a click, and Galatea glanced behind her. Mist was fumbling with the keys, muttering all the while. In the meantime, Galatea looked back to the window, and approached it with deliberation.
She was met by the sight of the alleyway beside the hotel.
This city would be called old today, that much she knew. She hadn't been there when the first crude bricks were place, yet she’d assisted there for its library, and the second town hall over the next century. The alley was quiet at this time of night, a far cry from the bustling city centre. And yet she could see them now, if she imagined them as she remembered. The spectres of those who had passed through this city.
The peasantry, coming by with the season’s harvest. Weather workers from centuries past till this very morning, retiring from their shifts. Soldiers on patrol, sharing tales of creatures fought in the deepest forests. And of course, labourers and workers lifting and toiling away, building the city brick by brick, log by log.
Then, another memory rose, of unpleasant odours felt so strongly, and the sights of the streets filled with–
* * * * *
–the dead and dying, stacked in a lonely alleyway.
Galatea turned her eyes away from it, even as the stench made her eyes water through the mask. She had to get the healer by her back to her tent, where she wished to make her stand.
Three times did they meet. Galatea stood by the river’s edge, and so did the healer, the mare named Equinox. She was a ferrier then, carrying supplies in and out, across the raging river. Equinox had been sent here, or rather, sent herself here from Canterlot, ignoring the wishes of her mother.
Three times did Galatea call out to her from across the river. Three times did Equinox answer and converse with her, for long periods of time each, sharing what she could, as Galatea did the same. And three times did Equinox deny Galatea’s pleas, insisting that she would die as she lived her duty, to heal others in need.
The third time they met, Galatea saw how the pale blue mare, who so closely resembled her mother, collapsed on the riverbank. The plague had taken hold of her too. Yet even as she spat out blood and viscera, all she could tell Galatea was how many more left she needed to cure, and to ask if Flight Feather, her bodyguard had returned with news from Canterlot.
What could she do then, to deny Princess Equinox her duty? So she waded through the river, unheeding of its raging rapids, and hoisted the mare to stand. A healer’s life was a difficult one, and Galatea could fault her little for that. A moment’s reassurance that Flight Feather was well on his way back was all Equinox had needed to keep going who knew how long.
Yet, all the while, as Equinox quietly remarked on how their eyes so closely resembled one another, all Galatea could think of was how she’d failed Luna in bringing her daughter back…
* * * * *
All faded into the quiet image of the alleyway. Perhaps it was just that – an alleyway. But every place had its story. And she remembered.
“Hey, Gal,” Mist said aloud. “Are ya just gonna stand there?”
Galatea turned to look at Mist. She was sitting upright, in an unorthodox position, usually assumed by the Minotaur and their ilk. And she looked a little bit curious.
“Sorry just… thinking,” Galatea said. She lowered her hoof from the window sill. “Just the city.”
Mist tilted her head. “Ah, well,” she said, with a shrug. “Not much to see there, I take it?”
Galatea tilted her head.
“Plenty, actually,” she said. Another glance at the brick wall, before turning her eyes back to Mist. “It isn’t so much what I see now than it is what it must have been then. How that wall came to be, brick by brick. Just like this city, really. All the ponies that came together, through these years, each a small part of this greater whole...”
She shook her head.
“Do forgive me,” she said. “I like to ponder, I’ve been told. But one could appreciate a pretty sight or two, at the moment.”
She fixed her eyes on Mist’s, who averted her gaze bashfully. That might have been a nervous, flirty smirk from Snow Mist. She had a nice little smile, Galatea concluded.
“Wow. That’s… yeah, those are some nice words, Gal. Gosh, erm– yeah, it’s home,” Mist said. “Pretty– pretty comfy, when… when you get to know it.” She shook her head, chuckling nervously. “Gah. Mist, what are ya doing. Was 'bout to… say something, uh… awkward.”
Her voice died down. It might’ve been because Galatea had locked her eyes with hers.
“I see,” she said. And, before Mist could say anything else, she had already shrunk the gap between them, with a few steps. Mist’s head only reached half of her neck, and the smaller mare had to look up at her.
“So,” Mist said, clearing her throat. “How… how d’you wanna do this…”
“You tell me,” said Galatea, inclining her head. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Or maybe you could show me.”
She placed a forehoof on Mist’s own, and felt a shudder from the pegasus. Slowly, she trailed the hoof up, brushing away locks of Mist’s mane. Properly cut, yet not too short, and Mist let her mane down, where it reached the middle of her neck.
It was a pleasing look, all in all.
“Gal,” Mist said. “I don’t know if anyone told you yet, but uh, darn it, might as well say it– you’re pretty. Right. Sorry.”
Galatea said nothing to that, rubbing the back of Mist’s neck softly. A little tense, but slowly, she relaxed under her gentle touch.
“I’m really doing this, right, right… right,” Mist continued, though whether it was for her, or herself, Galatea had to wonder. “S-sorry. Just nervous is all…”
Mist’s voice died down as she looked up to meet her eyes. There was a growing longing in them.
“That's, um… that's a very, curious cloak you got there,” Mist said, her voice shaky, hoof brushing against the ancient travelling cloak. Little had remained of its original Reindeer-thread, woven by Birdsong aeons ago, and by now it was a messy patchwork of different threads. But it was still here, Galatea thought, which was all she cared for.
With a single, practised motion, the cloak dropped to the floor in a heap, exposing Galatea's whole form to Mist's awestruck eyes. She felt her tail lift a little off the ground, swishing past Mist's hooves.
Excitement was to be expected. She'd done this countless times. Yet nothing could ever match the thrill of these moments, the way her heart thumped and fluttered.
Before her was the one mare who mattered in the world, here and now, in this secluded corner.
“I am here, Mist,” Galatea whispered, hoof moving to caress her partner’s chin. Mist blushed, and Galatea too felt her cheeks heat up, unwittingly. “You need not worry…”
And, without further hesitation, Snow Mist reached out and pulled her into a kiss.
Like many nights before, Galatea took the time to savour the tender moment, feeling Mist's lips on hers. Here, experience took over, and she returned Mist's embrace with a hoof round her neck, holding her tight with their lips locked.
Neither of them broke away. The smaller mare guided her onto the bed, pressing her body tightly against hers. They kissed, they touched and embraced, and so the night goes on, for a long, long time.
* * * * *
“Okay… okay, I’m… I’m done, I think...”
Galatea’s partner of the night, still sweating and panting from ecstasy, laid down on her chest. As she had grown used to doing, Galatea’s hooves moved to gently stroke her snow-coloured mane. It was a soft texture of hair, and reminded her of a warm fireplace, paradoxically. Snow Mist let out a blissful, satisfied sigh, moving to gently rest a hoof on her chest.
“I really liked that,” she whispered. “Like…”
“Agreed,” Galatea said, taking a second to compose herself, breathing heavily. She gave Mist a quick peck on the muzzle. “A good time.”
“Really good. Hold up, I-I just need to stretch a little…”
Still sluggish, her lover moved and sat up straight on the edge of the bed, stretching her forelimbs and wings. This allowed Galatea a full view of her bare, sweaty back, all the way down to her curvaceous behind. The dim lamp-light of the hotel room cast the guardsmare in a flattering light, and Galatea’s gaze drifted from her now frazzled, messy mane, the feathers on her wings, to the scruffy fur on her neck where she had been kissed and nipped at, and her snow-coloured tail, streaked with blue, moving from side to side.
She continued to stretch and flex – fitness in the Guard needed to be kept up, after all – as Galatea continued her passive, unspoken admiration of her fit physique. Which didn’t evade Mist’s notice evidently, when she glanced back, and gave her a sultry smile.
“Like what you see?” she said flirtatiously, before letting out a giggle. “Gah, that sounds terrible. Flirting’s not my thing.”
“It happens,” said Galatea, frankly. “And yes. I like what I’m seeing.”
“You’re a funny mare, Gal,” said Mist, winking coyly at her. “But still. Terrible line, blegh.”
“I don’t mind. I’ve heard worse, plenty of times. Often-times from me.”
“Really, now?” said Mist. She turned to face Galatea fully, taking in the sight of her reclining form.
“It depends,” said Galatea. She adjusted her position, leaning against the bedrest. Although she was taller than Mist, now she looked her eye-to-eye, blue on blue. She contemplated the cover story she had crafted for this decade. A partial repeat of her doctorate cover, but it’ll do. “Geology isn’t the most socially-engaging of the sciences. It’s an in-depth and down-to-earth subject, as it were, but not the great conversation-starter, from mine long experience.”
She shifted in her position, under Mist’s curious gaze. The pegasus mare climbed onto the bed once more and pulled up the sheets with her. As if in response, Galatea flicked her mane. Her braid had come undone a few hours ago, leaving her mane a mess, several locks hanging over one eye.
“Well,” noted Mist, “Can’t say I know what they teach you in geology out on the field, but… Oh, you‘re good with your hooves, Gal.”
“You aren’t too bad yourself,” replied Galatea. “For a first-timer, I liked that.”
“With a mare, mind, first time with a mare…” Mist emphasised huffily She moved closer, resting herself upon Galatea’s chest. “Long experience, you tell me… You musta done a lot, in so little time.”
Galatea reflected upon this. “Yes.”
“Mmh. Say, how does a girl of the world end all the way out here, at the edge of Equestria?”
“Ennui,” Galatea replied, shrugging. “A change of scenery is as good as a holiday. An acquaintance of mine told me that, once, in… I’m not sure how long ago that was,” she lied, her collected recollections of the past as vivid as ever. “Home at Stratusburg is beautiful, true, especially if you’ve read up on the history. There’s much to be said about Manehattan. I particularly like the theatre subculture. But there are always more places to see.” She paused, glancing at her partner. “Now,” she said, ruffling Mist’s mane. “I don’t suppose you could tell me about this town of yours? I’d love to hear it from you.”
Mist laughed, and with a wing, she pulled the sheet further up, covering them both. Still laying on Galatea’s chest, she crossed her forelegs together, and rested her chin
“Stratusburg. I’d have figured you were from Canterlot. Really not one to talk much, are you?” she purred, poking Galatea’s muzzle playfully. “Feh, what’s there to tell?” Mist groaned, pulling her hoof away. “Just an aspiring weathermare, who had a lil’ change of heart, and so, a career change.”
“Curious,” Galatea observed. “Surely, there’s more to it?”
“How you flatter me,” Mist said, shaking her head. “Really, though, I got nothing real interesting going on. I’m just me.”
Galatea rolled her eyes, almost involuntarily.
“If I didn’t find you interesting,” she said slyly. “I wouldn’t have said yes. Won’t you tell me, Snow Mist? A weathermare… I wonder, what’s a lovely weathermare like you doing in the Guard?”
Mist’s furious blush brought an amused smile to her face.
“Okay, college girl,” said Mist, flustered. “If you insist. I mean…” she began, biting her lower lip. “Well, yeah. I guess I kinda knew where I was headed to, y’know? Got my mark after a snowball fight– you really should’ve seen the cloud I made then. So I guess starting as a weathermare for the local factory after high school was a no-brainer.”
Mist shook her head.
“That was… what, uh, six years ago. Yeah. Six, heh,” Mist continued, chuckling. “Pretty standard job as it goes. You pull double-duty around Wintertime. Blizzards ain’t my thing, but I can produce heavy snowfall just fine.”
“Vanhoover’s record speaks for itself,” Galatea commented. “But I think I’ve found just the mare to thank for that.”
“Pfft,” Mist replied. “Yeah, guess so. But, y’know, it’s a team effort...” She paused, her forehoof tracing circles in Galatea’s chest fur. “It’s, well. I… always wanted to be part of somethin' more. Be good ol’, carefree Snow Mist. It’s hard to balance it out and… well, Pops always told me the old be-true-to-yourself shtick. And here I am. I guess I wanted the thrill of the Guard, too.”
“And how has this worked out for you?”
“Pretty fine, really,” said Mist. “Pay’s okay. Got my fair share of thrills. And hey, made it all the way to Sergeant, so that works out. Of course, Pops also gets worried bout his lil’ girl, no matter how many times I tell him that– okay, I guess Nightmare Moon kinda counts. Or that skirmish with them Shadows in Canterlot, all those years ago. That was way before we were born, though. Still, it ain’t never stopped him worrying, so I guess that’s just what parents do...”
She chuckled softly, just missing the small frown that crossed Galatea.
“So, yeah.”
Galatea chose to take a gamble. “And your scar?” she asked, quietly. “How much has this to do with your scar?”
Snow Mist stiffened within her embrace.
“… What?”
“The scar, behind your wing,” Galatea said, cupping Mist’s cheek and bringing her eyes to look right into hers, softly. “Please, don’t feel alarmed. You hide it well, but I noticed already back at the bar. The way you clutch your right wing to your barrel.”
Mist kept mum, only glancing back at where the rest of her, wings included, lay tucked under the blankets and cover of darkness. Gingerly, Galatea pulled away the sheets partway, exposing their bodies that lay huddled by one another, Mist lying on top as she’d been for most of the night.
The pegasus again glanced at her back, now visible, and at Galatea in turn. Some kind of decision came to be reached behind her eyes.
One wing stretched out slowly, deliberately, to reveal in full what she hadn’t been able to hide from Galatea. Beneath the wing, which lay at a slightly crooked angle and had done the whole time since Galatea laid eyes upon Snow Mist, a nasty gash cut through the pegasus’ hide. A raw, fleshy pink that must once have wept profusely, it was an eyesore to see against the cool blue of the coat.
Galatea allowed silence to speak for itself, until she felt it right for her to speak.
“What happened?” she said gently. “Was this with the Royal Guard?”
Mist shook her head with fervour. Her gaze was avoiding Galatea’s, but evidently, she did not like to look upon the scar, either. Her wing pulled back, concealing it once more.
“No…” Mist said. “No. It was… just a stupid factory accident.”
Blowing slowly through her lips, Galatea stroked the pegasus’s ear. “It’s alright…” she whispered. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”
“Yeah. Rather not talk about it.” Mist now did look up at Galatea. “Ugly, ain’t it?”
“It is not pretty to look at,” Galatea agreed. “And I understand why you wouldn’t want the reminder. But you shouldn’t feel ashamed of it. It isn’t a black mark on who you are.”
“Really?” said Mist. “I… Sorry, this is gonna sound stupid, but… if you were a guy, I… I’m not sure how I’d feel about ’em seeing.”
“Then I take it you’ve always kept it hidden from them? No-one else has ever seen it?”
“Apart from a few Guards, my factory mates… Pops…” Mist sighed. “No-one but you.”
Galatea gave her her moment’s silence, stroking away.
The art of healing had lost much of its mysticism, in the time which had passed as many and many more people came to live in cities such as this, the walls of which darkened her and Snow Mist’s little room now the lamp was out. But where the intimacy of a personal healer had been exchanged for the cool sterility of the hospital, there was greater understanding of medicine and the workings of the body.
And even so, not all hurts could be patched, not physically.
Only she, it seemed, remained spared lifelong by frailty, even the chips in her hooves continually healing themselves and healing again. Only she…
“The health service got it covered, it’s fine,” said Mist, filling the silence. “But… tidying up what it left behind, that’s… that’s not covered by ’em, and it ain’t obvious enough to buy me special treatment.”
“Did this influence your career change?” Galatea asked. "So that if anyone did see, they at least might assume you were injured in the Guard?”
“Maybe.” Mist shrugged, still uncovered. “But to tell ya straight, I think I was gonna change careers anyway, looking for adventure. The scar, it… was just kinda the cherry on top.”
Galatea let out a small sigh. Delicately, she lifted Mist's chin, so they were once more gazing into each other’s eyes.
Except that rather than maintain the gaze, here Galatea let her taller size, the build of her neck, work to her advantage, as she leaned past the surprised Mist’s cheek and ear, so that her lips brushed against the wing, and a little of the scar it concealed, before she pulled back.
Mist blinked at her. “Why’d you do that? Don’t tell me you think it’s beautiful now.”
“No,” Galatea replied, candidly. “It’s not. But it’s part of you.”
"Gosh, Gal…" Mist seemed flustered, unsure what to say. “I… ah… Well, glad ya don’t feel too sorry for me. Cos’ you know what? Mayhap I had a lucky break, quitting weather-making when I did. My old pals at the factory told me they had a pretty hectic month, what with Princess Celestia moving dates around and all. Can’t say I blame her, mind. That’s one way to welcome your long-lost sister back, aye?”
Quietly and not for the last time, Galatea cursed herself that she hadn’t foreseen this. That Celestia would go to such great lengths, over the course of several years, to bring their sister home.
She hadn’t been there to watch what occurred in the Castle of the Two Sisters, when the Elements of Harmony cleansed Luna of the darkness that was Nightmare Moon.
And now Sun and Moon were joined together as they should be, and her duty continued, always.
“Hey, Gal? You okay?”
She felt Mist’s hoof on her cheek. She looked down, seeing her partner, and there was only worry on her face.
“You, uh,” said Mist, clearing her throat. “You kinda zoned out there.”
“I see,” said Galatea. She placed her hoof on Mist’s own, gently pushing it down. “I had a thought.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” Mist replied. There was a curious tilt to her head. “You… wanna talk about it?”
“Perhaps,” Galatea said. There was no harm in telling a partial truth. “Mine sisters and I, we haven’t met in a while.”
“Really?”
“Yes, both of them.”
That much was true, though ‘a while’ held a different connotation for Galatea. She was there in Canterlot, watching her sisters at a press conference. Celestia had been nothing short of joyous, ever since the Element Bearers and she emerged from the Everfree Forest with a short blue alicorn in tow. Luna, by contrast, hadn’t looked all that comfortable, shifting in her seat, while Celestia eased the reporters’ concerns.
Perhaps she could have spoken to them, when all was quiet in the night…
“Huh,” said Mist. “What’re they like? And… uh, something happened?”
Galatea chewed on her lip, humming. “I left home, a long time ago… And when mine sisters were very young.”
“Oh… I’m sorry.”
“It is not your fault. I… ensured they were taken good care of. I have mine duties to do, and though they won’t know it, as long as they are safe, I am content.”
“Still,” Mist said, frowning. “Do you remember what they’re like?”
“Not very,” said Galatea. “One was very fond of cake, and the other, she liked to count the stars.”
Unexpectedly, Mist let out a giggle. “Yeah, ‘not very’, I can tell,” she said, shaking her head. “Still… I don’t know, maybe you could… visit them?”
“I have thought about it,” she said. “Yet I shall be leaving, and mine time is limited. They are happy without mine presence, and that’s something I hardly see changing soon.”
“Always the busy mare, are you…” said Mist, wistfully. “I wouldn’t want you to have regrets, Gal. Harmony knows I got plenty. Argh. Sometime– sometimes I wish I could… go back, y’know. Maybe I should’ve stayed at the factory. Maybe Pops would be happier if I had, but well, what’s done is done. Maybe later, when I’m older. I just don’t like having regrets. I don’t… I don’t want Pops or my old pals to remember me as a screw-up. I just wanted to help, that’s all I’m saying.”
She looked at Galatea, their eyes meeting.
“Nor would I want you to one day look back and… wish you could’ve been there. For your sisters. I don’t know for sure, but… you should have something to remember them by.”
Part of Galatea wondered if Mist somehow knew. Yet at the same time, her own story was perhaps something many had experienced in these lands. One of many, through the years, and throughout the world.
But Mist was here, and they were not. So Galatea moved to kiss her. This time, there was a certain drive behind it that she wasn’t sure was Mist’s. This was her moment. She shuddered, as Mist moved her body closer, still locked in the kiss. She traced a hoof down Mist’s back, feeling her warmth and gently stroking her wings. That itself brought a shudder, and a pleased noise from Mist. Galatea decided this was good.
They continued their rhythm as one, for what could have been hours and hours, but likely counted only for a few charged moments. Like many others, she would not see Mist again. Like many others, Galatea would remember.
Her lover broke away, panting. She wore a sad little smile. “You’re really leaving that soon, huh?”
Galatea sighed. “Yes. I’m afraid so.”
Mist groaned. “Just my luck,” she said. “Get to know someone like you, want a little fun for a night, then a little bit more. Then I forget it’s supposed to be just the one night. Funny, really. Ask one mare out as a joke and... and you find out you swing both ways.” She looked up, and giggled. “Or maybe it’s just you.”
“Maybe,” Galatea said, simply. Truthfully, she still wasn’t too sure if she was overdoing it. Attachments were attachments. Yet her duty superseded all. Still, there was no harm in leaving the waking world with a pleasant night.
“If I may– coming from a student here, Mist,” Galatea continued, stroking Mist’s mane gently. “While we look back on our closed doors, and look for an open door ahead, one ought to keep one’s hooves planted in the now.” She brushed Mist’s cheek. Her partner reached out to hold her forehoof. “This is who I know. You. How I wish to remember you. I look back, and I see you, as you are now. Perhaps you’ll change, as the days go by, I do not know. But I’ll remember you.”
She had spoken these words frequently, in various forms and dialects. But still she remembered each and every one whom she’d thus spoken to.
“Gal, I’m… I’m just another mare,” said Mist.
“Isn’t everyone just another face in the crowd?” retorted Galatea. “But they could be someone’s friend, a child, or a lover. Everyone has their worth. I believe that. I’ve met so many souls in mine life that I know it. And you are no different.”
“I– gosh, I don’t– I don’t know what to say. I don’t know, that’s just… really sweet of you.”
“It’s alright. We’ll part, true. But this much, I’ll remember. You’ve got a life to live, Mist. Don’t cling to mine memory. Keep it close to your heart, so you may look forward with an open mind. And a moment to cherish, always.”
Mist looked a touch conflicted, Galatea noticed. She stroked her mane, gently.
“C’mon, then, Gal,” Mist said, giggling. “We still got time, yeah. Gotta make the best of it...”
Teasingly, she moved to plant kisses upon her neck, eliciting a pleased shudder from Galatea. Snow Mist stopped to look at her, hopeful. Galatea contemplated it shortly, stroking the other’s mane with tender care. Then, she and her lover moved at the same time, and met halfway with a deep, passionate kiss.
* * * * *
Weekday mornings in Vanhoover were quiet, as Galatea preferred. She was sitting there with Snow Mist, glancing out the window. As a smaller city than most other urban areas, Vanhoover’s sidewalks weren’t crowded at all, the morning commute relatively less rowdy than in Manehattan or Fillydelphia.
Of course, there was always that mild discomfort she felt. Breakfast was just fine, with another easy-going, casual talk. Yet goodbyes were always the hardest. At times, for her partners, as well.
Mist carried herself well enough, thankfully. There wasn’t much they said to each other, once the Sun had risen in the morning, and they’d both got themselves cleaned up. Only the morning news, during breakfast, brought some distraction.
“... Trade’s gonna go up with Ryuppon, in a few years, they’re saying,” noted Mist, as Galatea turned her attention back to her. “Not sure why we bother with those creeps… They got deals with the Storm King, you heard? Even after he raided Farasi and Mount Aris, a few years ago. Kirin just ain’t like in the ol’ tales, no more… But, all in all, just another day.”
Their plates were both empty, now, and any talk was to keep themselves busy, just for a little moment longer.
“Aye,” Galatea said, simply. She glanced at the clock. “I expect that your next shift will start soon. Will you be able to explain why you spent a night away from the barracks? I hope your superiors won’t draw the wrong conclusions.”
Mist rested her chin upon her forehoof, sighing blissfully.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, shrugging. “Guess there’s no use putting things off.” She stood up. “C’mon. You gotta catch your train.”
Galatea followed suit, and off they went outside, greeted by the Sun.
On the walk to the train station, rush hour had passed, leaving a few commuters mulling about. Only one was in Galatea’s thoughts now, and she stood by her, rubbing the back of her head.
Snow Mist had tied her mane back in her bun, with nary a strand out of place,
They stopped at the end of the street.
“Guess… guess this is… well, yeah,” said Mist. She reached out to part one of her bangs, uncovering her left eye. Braids weren’t easy to do, yet Galatea had found it quite nice of Mist to do hers on the morning after.
“Thank you for the time, Mist,” said Galatea. “A night to remember, I feel.”
“You’re too kind,” Mist rebuked her lightly. “Gosh… yeah… heh.” She massaged her temple. “I... I know this is a one-time thing,” she said, longingly. “But... look, just to be crystal-clear between us, we won't be seeing each other anytime soon, right?”
“Yes,” said Galatea. “It was an exhilarating night, and I’ve enjoyed it. But here, we must part.”
"I figured, but... yeah, it was fun.”
Mist closed the distance between them, and kissed her gently. She parted soon, and flashed that bright smile of hers.
“This one stays with you too, I hope,” she said sweetly. “I don't like saying goodbyes, but I’ll remember you. And... good luck with your family. I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you.”
That wasn’t a certainty, Galatea knew. Her duty still stood. She nodded, if only for reassurance.
“I wish you the happiest of memories,” said Galatea, “And a merry life, Snow Mist.”
Their last hug was the longest.
With a nod to one another, they turned about, to go their separate ways. Yet, Galatea surprised even herself when she stopped, and glanced to where Mist headed in the opposite direction. Right as she did so, she saw Mist also frozen, their eyes meeting from each end of the sidewalk. Only for a moment, for Mist blew one final kiss, and broke off the stare with a happy skip.
Galatea touching the cheek where the kiss might’ve landed, feeling it heat up, and sighed.
‘Attachments remain irrelevant,’ she thought, clinically. ‘Duty comes first, and the Sun and Moon are joined together, once more.’
She walked under the morning Sun, her thoughts going from place to place, as life pursued its course in this city. Soon, she would be just another face in the crowd.
No reason for her to stay awake much longer. Celestia would not need another sister to watch over her. She now had one right by her side, once again, one she’d knowb throughout her life. And young Cadance, the first new alicorn in three-thousand years, though yet to prove herself, remained a promising prospect for the future.
Although, there was the question of Celestia’s possible successor. The young unicorn mare who had wielded the Element of Magic, and freed her sister.
Galatea shook her head, and continued her trek, to where she would rest for a time.
‘Alright, five years ought to do it,’ she thought, crossing the street. ‘Celestia’s master plan remains risky, if impeccably well-thought. With luck, I do not expect to be needed soon.’
Yet even as she went on, with thoughts of grand designs and future worlds, Galatea could not shake off the warmth and comfort, or the lingering feeling of Snow Mist’s gentle embrace, and her lips upon her own.
It would be a long sleep, but not a dreamless one, she hoped.
And so her watch continued.
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God reading this gives me the feels, keep up the good work
10728734
Thanks
happy to see you've enjoyed it, and hope the rest of my works measure up 
Jotting down a few unusually quick replies here.
10704968,
All I'll say about the mission written into Galatea is that you may still have a few surprises in store, though this story is nonetheless intended to be fairly self-contained and thus, the blame can be allowed to be attributed to Faust within its parametres. In the wider 'verse, however, there might be more than it seems to Faust, and what led Galatea to grow closer to the world.
10711153,
As the writer of the riverside scene, I'm touched...
My big contribution to this story.
10719751
I don't mind that reading of my analogy.
I'm always getting surprised to see my words retained by others when I just happened to be saying what went through my head at the time.
Cheers,
~Vox
really fascinating, all the Equestrian history skipped over in this jump, Galatea in her lonely low-profile the whole time. still the Observer, only now anonymous in the sea of the populace
really interesting that Galatea is passing herself off as so young. even if she appeared that way physically, you would think there would be dissonance with the way she carried herself in her age
hehe
i've got to say, of all ways to depict Galatea in the modern age, hooking up with another mare at a bar is not where i expected this to go. pleasantly surprised, though!
ah, something for us sledgeheads. this is exactly why i'm surprised Galatea passes herself off as being so young! she's seen far too much to even pretend it
glad to see the cloak still around, and its modern-day use!
well now i'm thinking of a potential ship here...
on what, slej???
well, that's all the characterization they need!
aww, you made this one-night stand really sweet! and with Galatea's powers, she really means what she says
hmmmmmm
again, not what i expected for this section of the story, which impresses me all the more for how well it works. this tension within Galatea of every mortal pony that has been in her life a precious memory to keep forever, yet passing in and out of it in an eyeblink. really love how well you drew Snow Mist's character and background, introducing this OC out of nothing and telling a complete slice-of-life tale. and thinking about it now, it is so fitting for the modern-day chapter to be this story. one night or fifty years, the end result would be the same: the mortal departs and the alicorn stays, back to her watch, warmed only by memories and dreams.
an errand countless
What I find very notable between this chapter and the previous is that even if it may have been a long time of living at the very start, it's just now that the Eternaut feels and sounds as wise as her age. Shows that you only truly mature by your actions and experiences, and not just the passage of time.