The Trinket

“Bro.” The voice sounded so very far away…

“Bro! Get up, it’s time for the next class.” A heavy hoof found its way to my shoulder, gently jerking me from the slumber in which I had found myself.

The pages ripped from the textbook as I sat bolt upright. "Bwuh!" bits of Vsevlod's work on the agricultural imp-...ugh, the thought alone of reading that drivel was enough to nearly make me want to pass back out.

"Gloryhorn, Bro, come on. We gotta go."

My eyes adjusted to the bulk of the dragon standing before me and I struggled for a moment to recall his name. "Infernus... it's too early, I need to be asleep. I spent half the night trying to patch that hole you punched in the wall."

"And a damn fine hole it was, I shot that fireball right through Umbana's earring!" He grinned and pumped a fist into the air. "But for realsies, we got'ta get to class."

"Ugh..." I pulled the paper away from my face with a touch of magic, the drool having apparently solidified to my fur. "Fine."

"Come on, I already have your bag packed." he hefted my saddlebags, and I wondered idly what the weight in them felt like to the dragon, captain of the local Blitzball team. Which as anyone could determine, was a made up sport.

Getting steadily to my hooves was an effort worthy of the heroes of old. I was halfway to the door when the wastebasket loomed at the edge of my vision. It was mighty inviting and I obliged that overwhelming urge. Infernus—always the gentledragon—held my mane back as I relieved the contents of my stomach into the waiting receptacle.

The hallway was one long blur as we moved down it, faces bobbed in and out of view. Mostly smiling, a few rocks of course always stood out in the river—their jagged dismissive looks only fueling my desire to get to the next class and fade blissfully back into dreamland.

"We're going to have to go outside, aren't we." I asked, my stomach already grumbling, and the water I had stolen from the fountain after the wastebasket incident doing little to soothe the burning in my throat.

"Yup." Infernus replied.

"Got any sunglasses per'chance?"

He grinned, or at least, I assumed he grinned. I was currently more interested in the tiled floor beneath my hooves and hoping it would stop spinning for a moment so I could crush it into dust. A pair of ill fitting sunglasses were pressed onto my snout, blocking the deadly lasers from reaching my already beleaguered brain.

"Right, let's get moving" He said, and with nary a moments hesitation before I could think better of it we were in the blistering sunlight.

It was just as bad as I expected. The sound of laughter assaulted my ears, the sunlight beat down from above, the gentle breeze was like a hurricane trying to tear me from my fragile mooring. For a moment I thought I smelled a particular blend of spices and body odor. I knew that smell, it had adorned my bed once upon a time... long ago.

There she stood, a picture of beauty. Her face radiating a certain glow like that of a ballerina just back from the stage.

"Fuck my life." I mumbled quietly to myself.

"What was that, my pony friend? Had too much to drink again?" Umbana stood, cool as... whatever I could think of that didn't make my brain want to commit die.

"Umbana!" Shouted Infernus, approximately thirty decibels above what my brain could currently process.

"Ow, fuck." I mumbled as Infernus guided me over to the tree Umbana currently occupied.

"Apologies." He said from somewhere above me.

"Umbana, I cannot handle your rhyming in my current state." I squeezed one eye shut. Even behind the sunglasses it was much too bright.

"Silly Pony, Rhyming is my life, without it I'd surely..." she trailed off. "Alright, fine. You got me. I cannot rhyme in the equestrian tongue well." She gave me a wide smile.

"Thanks, my brain is a little fried."

"Well, no one told you to trade shots with the Kirins." She dug around in her own saddlebags for a moment before procuring a flask.

"I thought I could beat them this time." I took it without hesitation and cracked the cap. Without smelling the contents I gave it a quick swig. Moments later, I regretted that decision immensely.

Infernus gave a chuckle as I coughed and waved the flask back at her. "How can you drink that rotgut?"

Umbana took it with a smile. "Like anyone else. Except a pony who has imbibed beyond their... time?"

"Fuck off." I groaned.

The delightfully twisted pair just laughed at me as we headed into the building.

"Look at those two. They think they are so discreet." Umbana whispered dangerously close to my ear, the words tickled something at the back of my mind and a shiver ran up my spine.

Discreetly crossing my rear hooves, I tried my best to ignore the rising heat in unmentionable areas. "Umbana, please. I'm trying to learn here."

She stifled a guffaw with a hoof. "Learn, sure. The pony who decided it was a good idea to try to drink kirins under the table. Again."

"Look, I just thought I could win this time. Besides, who are you even talking about." The pounding in my head had subsided somewhat after taking that swig of Umbana's rotgut, that foul thing that zebras seemed to love.

"Those two" and discreetly nodded to the stallion and griffon who were at that moment pointedly not making eye contact.

I squinted in their direction. There did seem to be something odd about the aura surrounding them, like two mismatched bits of glass, somehow finding the right fit in one of those stained window panes. I became so ingrained my own thoughts for a moment I completely missed her talking to me.

"-who do they even think they're fooling?" Umbana continued. "It's so obvious, like why don't they just come right out and say it. What? Who's going to care."

"Uhhh..." I tried to come up with something clever but could only think of the first thing that came to mind. "Their parents?"

This, as I realized as soon as the words left my mouth was the entirely wrong thing to say. Umbana's mouth took on a hard edge and the warmth that I realized I'd been enjoying. That warmth of being so close to her again, was suddenly gone.

She stood, and looked down at me. There was something there, in those eyes. Even in my fog addled mind I could sense it, that impending doom. "Umbana... I didn't..."

"Save it." and with a sudden flurry of activity her desk was clean. Books shoved into her bag. The last I saw of her was her tail as the door to the lecture hall closed silently behind it.

I didn't see much of Umbana over the next few months. Infernus was nearly always off at some regional tournament with Steelscale and Ironscale. I missed her warmth, I missed the smell of her on my pillow and above all I missed her face.

There were a few times where I tried to recapture that warmth. I never bothered to remember their names.

My studies continued much as they had prior. From time to time, I still went to parties. Although I saw that pair, the one that Umbana pointed out, less and less. They—for a time—had become a staple at all social gatherings. I supposed they were simply busy, studying, just like the rest of us were.

The days grew longer, and by the first snow I'd completed a majority of my classwork.

This gave me quite a bit of free time. And with it, as I was dreading the inevitable buildup of holiday pudge. I began to walk the city. Simply walking, no particular destination in mind, just taking in the sights.

I enjoyed watching the plows work, pushing the snow from the streets as easily as one might push water with a hoof. I watched the foals play and have mock battles, snowballs falling from on high as parents watched from windows in their warm apartments.

I once stumbled quite accidentally on a proposal happening under a full moon. Who proposes on a poorly lit hoofbridge in the middle of a park that late at night anyway.

The chill in the air became my constant companion. The slowly swirling flakes falling from those endless gray skies. The sounds of the city filled my ears and by spring, I'd felt as if everything was right with the world.

I dove into my studies that year. My bed—more often than not—remained chill, I found I preferred it that way. I came into the habit of keeping the windows open, I simply couldn't sleep properly without that sound of the city outside.

I went to even fewer parties. I no longer saw anyone from before. The faces were all new, the stories and jokes were new. And from time to time I even managed to learn a few of them.

In my final year, she returned.

I nestled the warm coffee between my hooves. I enjoyed the heat from the mug, it soothed the cold from walking the city. It’s warmth, the only constant companion I still enjoyed. That is to say, I didn’t come to this particular coffee shop for the quality.

I took a sip from the mug, the slightly burnt smell of the grounds making their way into my nose. The thick brown liquid splashed across my tongue, tasting of disappointment. For a moment, as I held that cup to my lips I spotted a familiar form.

It took a moment for it to register. A memory that was as clear to me as the sky slipped it’s way into the edge of my consciousness. A grim face, a determined line of the lips, a… mistake.

She had a smile plastered upon her face as she received her coffee and donut.

I slunk lower into my seat, finding an immediate interest in the most minute detail of the tabletop. I wasn’t sure at that moment if I was hiding from her… or myself.

I felt her presence, with a glance, I confirmed it.

“Gloryhorn?”

Sweet Sisters how I missed that voice.

I turned to her, she wasn’t exactly smiling but it wasn’t a grimace either. “Umbana… long time.” I tried to smile, I suspect it looked more like I needed the bathroom.

“It has been a while.” we lapsed into silence. That is to say, we let the sounds from the coffee shop fill the void between us for a moment.

I struck first. “Would… you like to sit here?” I nodded to the coffee and donut she had balanced in one hoof.

She studied my face for a moment, searching. For what, I do not know. But as she slid into the seat opposite mine, it felt as if a page was turned.

We shared that cup of coffee, and another, the two of us catching up at the little sitting tables outside the cafe as the city moved around us. We didn't immediately become friends again, it had been too long. But we found a mutual respect for eachother and in time, that respect bloomed into something more.

I visited her little flat in the city, she had decided at one point... I suspected I knew when. To move off campus. She still had that little flask she had offered to me all those years ago. She said she kept it as a memento. She, like I, had chosen another life path.

It was fall when I first shared her bed again. By winter, we had walked many of the same streets and seen many of the same sights as I had when I first found my love of the city. I decided—on one of our many walks—I don't remember which one, that we'd visit that little hoofpath over the lake.

I once again stood before the jewelry counter. The reflection from the contents within, nearly blinding not from the soft lights overhead but from the decision I needed to make.

Rings, Necklaces, Tiaras, Bracelets, Faberge eggs. There were too many choices, and too many implications with all of them. None of them felt right and as I stared, I could feel the eyes of the jeweler upon me.

He made a soft sound.

I sighed. “Come on Rasp, how do I find what to give her?”

Rasp leaned against the counter, talons delicately tapping on the glass. “Ms. Gloryhorn, you have been in my shop every day for the last three weeks. Hearthswarming is a mere week away and still, every day we stand at this counter and you stare at the display.”

I grimaced “Three weeks?... Surely it hasn’t been quite-”

“I assure you it has. At first I thought you were going to rob me. Then I thought maybe you just had a fascination with shiny things. Now I think you are simply no good at making decisions.” Rasp leaned farther onto the counter. “Now, I think we both know you aren’t going to be buying anything from me and as much as I enjoy our daily chats…”

“Yeah… I get it. Thanks Rasp. I’ll…” as I looked around the shop one final time, a small rack of keychains caught my eye. The kind of keychains someone could get anywhere, a trinket. Worse, a tourist trinket. But I did feel bad for wasting Rasps time, the least I could do was buy something.

Thirty minutes later and I was seated in the park, my face warmed by Celestias sun. The little trinket I had purchased, spinning freely on it’s chain as I held it in my hoof. It was such a simple thing but the more I thought about it, the more I began to like the idea.

I slipped the keychain into my pocket and heaved myself from the bench.

It was time.

I cooked dinner that night, a zebrican dish of dubious authenticity.

I presented the dish in the only uncracked dishware I had. A bowl for myself and a plate for Umbana.

We ate, and talked of times long past of names and faces set adrift by time.

She spoke briefly of the future, I spoke of nothing. To be lost in those deep eyes and curve of her figure was enough.

As the night waned on, I felt that little trinket pulling at my mind. I knew where it was, I knew what it looked like. I even knew what it meant.

The question was always how. The answer, I of course knew. I excused myself and made my way to the tiny bathroom. The grim visage that stared back at me from atop that high necked sweater softened just a touch by the gently flickering bulb.

For a moment I grit my teeth, and then with a gentle reminder I relaxed my jaw. With a sudden warmth growing in my chest I pulled myself from the mirror. It took only a flick of magic to turn the switch and I strode from that darkened room.

With a smile I gathered my coat and slipped the trinket into the pocket.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

It was all that was needed.

I do not remember the cold on my cheeks, nor the ice on the sidewalks. I only remember her warmth against me and the lead weight in my pocket as we made that journey to that place.

On that tiny hoofpath over the lake tinged with frost is where I made my stand.

Under the light of Lunas moon, I proposed to her.

She said yes.

My parents door, a slab of black walnut. It was made no less intimidating by the cheerful wreath they had hung upon it. I could hear the party from the landing and through the frosted windows, see the partygoers inside.

Umbana... my... wife, took my hoof in hers and whispered a soft word of encouragement.

A knot in my chest began to unwind, and with a grim determination. I knocked, once, twice, thrice, upon that door.

My mother—a greying mare of some fifty odd years—answered. My father stood behind her, retelling some tired joke to the partygoers.

I stood a little taller and opened my mouth to speak, but my mother simply smiled and beckoned us inside.

I looked to my mother, her gaudy sweater twinkling in the lights. Then to Umbana, who simply nodded.

We stepped inside, and as the door closed.

We knew.

We were home.

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