Sunrise

by Winston

VI - Wheels in Motion

Sunrise
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Chapter VI - Wheels in Motion

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“I spent most of yesterday after our discussion—” Clover looked back over her withers, surveying the small restaurant she and the two sisters were in. It was almost empty, except for two unicorns at another table. They looked preoccupied with each other, but even so, Clover’s horn glowed the same golden color as her eyes while she cast a spell that Celestia recognized as a soundproofing barrier.

“Better.” Clover nodded in satisfaction. “As I was saying, I spent yesterday reviewing the literature on magic concerning celestial objects. I didn’t find much of anything helpful for our specific purposes.”

“Neither did we.” Celestia shook her head and looked down at her lunch, a salad made with carrots and peapods. All the ingredients were fresh, despite the winter season. It struck Celestia as a bitter irony that the earth ponies who so skillfully grew these vegetables probably couldn’t afford the expensive hothouse luxuries themselves. “Luna and I both scoured our old books and notes from school and training, on top of searching the libraries we could get to, but everything focuses on thaumocontroller principles and operation, nothing about directly controlling stellar objects by horn. That really doesn’t seem to be taught anymore.”

“No, it isn’t.” Clover shook her head. “I did find some brief mentions in very old books that touch on the subject, but only in general terms and basic magical principles that should be obvious, especially to any unicorn who’s been through Thaumosciences training. I hardly needed to waste my time looking it up in a book to tell you about it.”

“Maybe we just need to keep looking further back in even older books,” Luna said. “There has to be something describing some of the useful details about how they did it, doesn’t there?”

“Well, there doesn’t have to be.” Clover shook her head. “All the unicorns with experience moving the sun and moon were very secretive in order to maintain their monopolies. They didn’t record much, with the exception of the calendars they were in charge of writing.”

“Old calendars are trivial to find, but just having those doesn’t tell us anything we actually need.” Celestia frowned.

“Right.” Clover nodded. “Unfortunately, long story short, it’s looking like we—and I’ll be honest, by which I mostly mean you two—get to do a lot of experimental reconstructing of the methods old cabals of sun and moon moving unicorns used. I’m very sorry there aren’t any shortcuts I can offer, but I don’t see any other way than trial-and-error.” Clover stroked her chin in thought for a moment. “And, umm, hopefully without so much error.”

“So all we have to do is rediscover a lost magical art, and then figure out how to do with just one unicorn what used to take a dozen.” Celestia sighed. “Of course. How hard can it be, really?”

“Have a little faith in yourself,” Clover chided her. “You and your sister have the cutie marks and certainly the affinity for it. If anypony can do it, it’s you. I know it.”

Celestia nodded silently. The thought of the task ahead was daunting, and she had no idea how to even start, but she couldn’t deny that there was also a certain excitement to it. Working with the sun during her time at the solar thaumocontroller had been satisfying, but it always felt distant through the convoluted machine, mere glimpses and tenuous caresses.

But now…

She was tantalized by what suddenly seemed to be at hoof: a chance to reach out and touch it directly, feeling the fiery embrace of the bright warm light flowing through her straight from the source. No filtering, no dilution, no artifice, just pure blissful power surging in her horn, like biting into fresh fruit and drinking the juice straight out of it…

“I wish I knew it.” The sound of weary pessimism in Luna’s voice doused some of Celestia’s fire, snapping her out of the daydream and back to reality.

“Now, don’t be that way. Once you start, I have a feeling that you’ll just… get it.” Clover shrugged. “Take it one day at a time and don’t get overwhelmed.”

“We can do this, Luna.” Celestia gently put one hoof over her sister’s. “We have to. We don’t have a choice.”

Luna took a deep breath, then lifted her chin and gave Celestia a brave little nod. “It’s just a little scary,” she said, with a thin smile. “I mean, I have no experience. I’m not even a real lunarite yet and I’m supposed to control the entire moon on my own?”

“I’ve never driven the sun on my own, either,” Celestia offered. “So it’s really no different, if that helps.”

“Ahh, well, everypony’s nervous about their first time, aren’t they?” Clover asked with a nonchalant shrug. “But I believe in the two of you.”

Celestia couldn’t think of anything more to say. The conversation died down while the three of them ate quietly for a few minutes.

Finally, Clover pushed her plate away. “Now, scheduling is going to be the key to doing this without being noticed,” she said. “We need to be very careful.”

Celestia immediately understood what Clover meant. “I’ll have to work at night,” she said. “During the day the solarites monitor the sun while they’re moving it. After it sets, though, they leave it in a safe parking orbit with no nopony really watching. That’s the only time I can reach out to manipulate it magically and not be easily detected.”

“Right.” Clover nodded.

“And the moon and lunar thaumocontroller are much the same,” Luna said. “So I’ll have to work during the day.”

“Exactly.” Clover was idly building a tower out of stray silverware on the table. “I know it’s an ironic reversal of the halves of the day you two will ultimately need to respectively manage, so there’ll be a switch at some point—assuming all goes well and we actually pull this off—but backwards and out of sight is the way it has to be, at least for now.”

“That also means that we’ll only be able to try to work with the sun and moon while they’re behind the far side of the planet, which could make things somewhat more difficult,” Celestia pointed out.

“I know.” Clover nodded. “And I don’t expect it to be easy or entirely without problems, especially at first. Even if you two only experiment with manipulating the sun and moon while they’re idling and unmonitored, it’s going to involve some very high energy magic with a major signature, and the thaumocontroller operators could easily become aware of residual discrepancies. As one more precaution in case they do notice anything, we should really work somewhere outside the city. I’m not sure where, though. We might need to do some scouting for a suitable location.” Clover leaned back and studied the little structure she’d built from utensils with an appraising eye. It vaguely resembled the solar thaumocontroller.

“Outside the city…” Celestia thought for a moment. “I might know a place, actually.”
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☙ ☀ ❧

 
 
“You’re sure this pony is trustworthy?” Clover’s voice emanated quietly from what looked like empty air next to Celestia.

“As sure as I can be about anypony with a place that might suit the purpose,” Celestia replied, continuing to walk down a familiar rural road far outside Quartz City. “I’ve worked with her extensively during my climate and farming research. She knows me well enough. We’ve become friends.”

“Alright,” Clover assented. “If you say so, I’ll take your recommendation.”

Having a conversation with a disembodied voice struck Celestia as a little surreal. Then again, invisibility was surreal in a lot of ways. With the vague, fuzzy shape of her own muzzle in the bottom of her peripheral vision suddenly gone, for instance, she realized just how much she’d never really been conscious of it before. Likewise, looking down and being able to see her own hooves was something she’d always taken for granted, until she couldn’t. It made her paranoid about stepping on a rock the wrong way and twisting a fetlock or tearing a pastern.

The worst part, though, was a more abstractly uncomfortable sense that what they were doing was just wrong. Invisibility, while not particularly difficult to learn by reading the right books, wasn’t usually taught in magic schools or even in advanced Thaumosciences training. It was frowned upon by most unicorns as an antisocial use of magic, and as such, Celestia found that the stealth it offered paradoxically made her feel more exposed: the fact that they were hiding by using a technique considered to be the province of spies, gossips, and thieves only proved they were up to no good.

She wondered if maybe she should be heeding that feeling more carefully. Plotting to hijack celestial objects, after all, wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up.

But then again, she reflected, neither that plan nor being invisible right now was her choice. Clover had insisted on minimizing their profile, so she’d instantly cast the spell on all three of them as soon as they teleported out of the city. “They call me clever, not wise,” she offered by way of an apology when Luna had asked if this was really necessary.

The trio of ponies walked on in silence for a few more minutes until Celestia stopped next to a wheat field. “This is it,” she said.

The other two sets of already barely audible hoofsteps stopped.

Celestia looked around. There were no other ponies visible on the road, or in the farmland surrounding them. “I think it would be best if we were visible before we approach,” she said. “Giving her a fright by suddenly appearing out of thin air wouldn’t be the way to start things off on the right hoof.”

“Hmm, I suppose not,” Clover’s voice agreed. A faint aura of magic suddenly flared in the air around the outline of a pony, filling it in as she became visible, wrapped in her forest green cloak against the cold.

Celestia unhid herself as well, reaching out with her horn to dispel the delicate shell of photon-displacing thaumofield she was surrounded by. It only took a slight poke: once it was disturbed, it dissipated in an instant, popping like a bubble. She looked down and noticed with relief that she was able to see her hooves again.

A second later, Luna followed suit, reappearing next to her sister in a midnight blue cloak that matched her coat.

They started walking through the rows of wheat, a dull tan forest of tall stalks and grassy leaves in the quiet, frosty morning. Celestia searched until she managed to find Winter Wheat in the distance tending to her crop. The earth pony was surprisingly well hidden in her old, thin cloak of coarse worn brown cloth.

Actually, Celestia realized Winter Wheat had spotted them first and was already heading their way by the time they saw her. Now that they were visible, she knew their bright white, forest green, and deep blue must have been very conspicuous, even at a distance through the plants. It seemed fitting, in a way. This colorful distinctiveness felt to her like an apt manifestation of just how much unicorns from the city were out of place here in the heart of remote farmlands.

“Hello, Miss Celestia!” Winter Wheat greeted her when she finally closed the distance. “I wasn’t expecting you today… or any other unicorn visitors, either.” She glanced nervously at Luna and Clover.

“Hello, Winter,” Celestia said. “I wasn’t expecting to be here myself, but something came up. I hope I’m not disturbing your work.”

“No, it’s… it’s alright,” Winter Wheat said, hesitantly. “There’s not really much I can do, anyway, at this time of year. The real growing season doesn’t start again ‘til spring. Wheat’s dormant ‘til then, you know. I’m mostly just keeping an eye on it for now. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Actually, yes.” Celestia nodded. “If you can spare a few minutes, I’d really like to ask for your help with something, if that’s okay.”

“I suppose it is,” Winter Wheat said. She glanced past Celestia again, curiously studying Clover and Luna.

“Oh!” Celestia suddenly felt sheepish as she realized she was being impolite. “I’m sorry, Winter Wheat. This is Cardinal Clover—Clover the Clever, as she’s called—and my sister, Luna,” she hastily introduced her companions. “They both work for the Thaumosciences Authority, like me. We’re, uhh…” she cleared her throat. “…we’re actually all on the same project, at the moment. It’s what I need to talk to you about.”

“It’s nice to meet you, ladies.” Winter Wheat bowed politely for a moment, careful to show the usual deference expected of earth ponies to unicorns. “Why don’t you all come inside for a bit? I could use a break from the cold about now, anyway. It’s been getting bad lately.”

You have no idea…

Celestia shoved aside the grim thought. “Thank you,” she said instead. “A chance to warm up would be appreciated.”

Winter Wheat turned and walked over to her small farmhouse, with the three unicorns following her. She opened the door and let them in.

Once they were inside, she threw a few more sticks in her fireplace, stoking up a small blaze that spread pleasant warmth and made the house feel cozy. Celestia took off her phoenix feather lined cloak, enjoying the heat and faint scent of wood smoke mingling with dried herbs.

Winter Wheat brought out a pot of coffee and, with the offer of a hot drink as a lure, herded all three unicorns to the table.

“So, Miss Celestia, what was it you wanted to ask me?” she inquired once they were all gathered.

“Well, my sister and I are going to be performing some very sensitive experiments,” Celestia began. “We need to maintain a certain level of isolation. In fact, we’d like to do our work completely outside the city, and we don’t have a lot of time to do it in. It would be a huge help if we could just stay in one place while we concentrate on our task. So, I was really hoping, and I understand if this might be too much to ask or if you’re not comfortable with it, but, if you happen to have a spare room, or really any extra space we could stay in… we could pay you a generous rent for it.”

Winter Wheat almost dropped the coffee pot. “You want to stay here?” she asked, staring at Celestia with an incredulous look.

“My sister and I would, yes.” Celestia nodded. “Temporarily, while we get our work completed.”

“Welllll…” Winter Wheat rolled her eyes in thought. “It wouldn’t be a problem for me, exactly, and if you’re offering to rent, goodness knows how much I could always use extra bits. But it’s just that I’ve never really known any unicorns to live out on a farm, especially roughing it in a place like this. Are you sure you’d be comfortable? There’s not much in the way of conveniences… or even privacy, really. It’s a pretty small house, as I’m sure you can see.”

“We wouldn’t mind,” Celestia said. “Our house in the city isn’t all that big, either.”

“If you’re sure.” Winter Wheat shrugged. “I guess I have the extra storage room in back that I could clear out. It’s big enough for two ponies, if you’re the kind of sisters who can deal with sharing a room.”

“I think we are.” Celestia turned to Luna. “We shared a room when we were fillies, and it wasn’t too bad, right?”

“Well, you did complain about it constantly,” Luna reminded her.

“It was a long time ago,” Celestia said. “We’ve been able to share a house without any difficulty since then.”

“Yes, where we don’t have to sleep in the same room.”

“Is something the matter?” Celestia asked. “Do you not want to share?”

“I’m alright with it, I just want to make sure we don’t step on each other’s hooves,” Luna replied. “You know there’s nothing I hate more than when we fight.”

“I don’t like fighting with you, either, but it doesn’t—”

“Then don’t fight,” Clover interrupted them, rolling her eyes. “You’ll be on opposite sleep schedules anyway, won’t you? One of you will have the room to yourself to sleep in while the other is awake, so what’s the problem?” She glared at them.

“Ummm…” Celestia felt cowed under Clover’s stare. “…No problem with that, I suppose.”

Clover’s stare shifted to Luna.

Luna withered slightly under Clover’s irritated gaze. “Yes, that should work.” She nodded quickly.

Both sisters turned to look at Winter Wheat. “Sharing is fine,” they said in unison.

“Alright.” Winter Wheat nodded. “Then… when were you wanting to move in?”

Clover spoke up immediately. “How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Winter Wheat blinked. “Seems a little fast.”

“Well, there isn’t much equipment called for to get started on these experiments, and these two won’t need to pack all that much.” Clover glanced at the two sisters. “Will you?”

They both shook their heads no, although Celestia felt just as surprised as Luna and Winter Wheat looked.

“And we can stay to help clear out that storage room now, if you like.” Clover turned back to Winter Wheat. “I wouldn’t dream of making you do the hard work, of course. Just direct us where you want everything, and between the three of us and a little magic, we should be able to get the heavy lifting done in no time. Oh, but first things first, I suppose.” Clover pulled out a substantial pile of bits, mostly in high-denomination coins, from one of her saddlebags. She counted some out, setting them neatly on the table in two equal stacks. “First month’s rent, along with another month in advance. Is this enough? We could go a little higher, if you need more.”

Winter Wheat’s eyes opened wide, fixed on the heap of coins for several seconds. “No, that’s… ummm, it’s very generous as it is,” she finally said. “If you’re really in that kind of a hurry, I guess I can accommodate.”

“Wonderful!” Clover beamed while she sipped her coffee. “Then it’s settled. Let’s get to work, girls.”
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☙ ☀ ❧

 
 
“Heading out again?”

Celestia nodded in response to Winter’s question. It was just after sunset, and she was in fact about to exit the little farmhouse to get started for the night, just like she had every day that week.

“Are you sure the woodshed is where you really want to work?” Winter Wheat asked. “You and your sister are welcome to use the house, if you prefer. At the very least, it must be warmer in here.”

“No, that’s alright.” Celestia shook her head. “I’ve thought about it, and I know it must seem like a strange place for magical experiments, but out in the shed is really for the best. It’s cold, but there’s enough shelter not to be terribly uncomfortable. More importantly, there’s nothing valuable to break in case of a high-energy magical accident.”

And hiding out there away from prying eyes keeps you or anypony else from figuring out what kind of trouble we’re getting ourselves into…

“Alright.” Winter Wheat nodded in a slow, thoughtful way that told Celestia she wasn’t quite buying it but also wasn’t going to question it. “Well, you’ve been using it every night since you moved in, so I guess it must be good enough.”

“It may not be a state-of-the-art Thaumosciences lab.” Celestia smiled slightly. “But as woodsheds go, it’s excellent.”

Winter Wheat seemed unmoved by the compliment. “So, your experiments are going well, then?”

“They’re…” Celestia thought about it. Noticeable results were starting to materialize from her efforts: after long hours of focusing on the sun, an awareness of its magical emanations was growing steadily more keen in her mind. She could always feel it now, always there, always blazing in space…

…But also so impossibly far away.

“…They’re coming along,” she concluded.
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☙ ☀ ❧

 
 
Celestia’s eyes closed while she concentrated. It was just after midnight, and the source of the power that called to her in faint whispers was almost directly beneath her hooves. The planet that was inconveniently in the way acted like an obscuring veil, but the sun was strong and magic permeated mundane matter easily; she could still feel it even through the many kilometers of rocky mantle and molten metal core of Equus.

She tried to reach out to the solar orb, but found herself, as she had every time so far, falling woefully short no matter how hard she struggled. Her horn glowed with an intense rose-colored light, coming through her closed eyelids in a dull red that she was only just barely conscious of while she exerted herself with all the intensity she could muster.

It wasn’t enough, not even close.

The impossibly distant sphere of blazing energy was simultaneously so huge and so far out of reach that both defied comprehension. Feeling smaller than a grain of sand, and just as helpless, she exhaled and let the glow fade while she relaxed for a moment.

How could anypony have ever possibly done this?!

She snorted and stomped a hoof in frustration at the sense of futility. She’d never thought that accomplishing nothing could be such hard work. Sweat matted her coat, despite the cold winter’s night. Her head ached and her horn was filled with the dull, throbbing pain of repeated magical overexertion. It was getting to be a familiar feeling lately.

Still, she reminded herself, there was nothing else to do but keep trying.

After thirty seconds of rest, Celestia squeezed her eyes shut once more. Clenching her jaw, she reached out again, her horn flaring with light. It blazed brighter and brighter until the rosy glow became harsh and actinic, filling the inside of Winter Wheat’s shed with intense illumination and cutting hard, sharp shadows. If she’d been focusing this much magical energy on telekinesis, it would have been enough to easily lift several hundred kilograms. She was sure of that. She’d tested her limits before, and very few unicorns were as strong as she was. If anypony had a realistic shot at this, it should have been her.

But it just didn’t matter. There was no crossing that immense distance. All the magical strength she had felt like a single tiny drop lost in the mind-numbingly vast ocean of space.

She tried tightening the thaumofield, pressing it inward to a narrow beam, aiming more for finesse than raw power. It grew focused into a more refined shape, becoming conical, then tapering down to a thread that emanated outward as far as she could reach. She stretched it, pushing farther and farther with the single filament. As it lengthened, it began to take all her effort to maintain, and even at a tiny width, the cumulative power demand was growing too fast.

Her muscles quivered with involuntary strain, tendons tense like steel wires under her skin while she gave everything she had. She scrabbled and flailed desperately with her mind and her magic for some sort of contact, some connection, anything to link up somehow to the vast waves of energy that roiled and radiated from the white-hot sphere of the sun.

One minute went by, then another. She pushed and struggled. Nothing happened. Another few seconds crawled along, each one feeling slower and more agonizing than the last.

With a quiet, choked cry, she finally gave out from exhaustion. Her magical output faltered and broke, and the light from her horn went dark. Her legs crumpled underneath her and she sank to her belly on the shed’s straw-covered dirt floor.

Sweat ran down her neck and sides in heavy drops. Her forehead felt like it had been split open with an axe where her horn met her skull, while sharp stabs pulsed from behind her closed eyes. Her entire head was a mass of dull, aching agony that extended down her spine through her neck and back. Burning soreness heated the muscles of her legs and flanks. For the next few minutes, every part of her felt too heavy to move, so she simply laid her head down and cried, letting silent tears of pain and frustration roll down her cheeks.

These nights were so frustrating. It felt so unfair. She finally had her chance to work with the sun—her purpose, the opportunity she longed for deep down in her heart of hearts—and now that it was here, she couldn’t get anywhere, no matter how hard she tried. How was she supposed to do this? Why was it so hopelessly out of reach?

After a little while, she became aware that she was cooling down, the frigid night air biting her with icy fangs through her still-damp coat. Slowly, she got back up on shaky legs. While she waited for them to steady, she wiped the tears from her face, embarrassed by them even with nopony else around to see, and tried to settle and recover a bit from her exertion by taking a deep drink from a pitcher of water she’d brought out to the shed with her at the start of the night. She knew she’d need all of it, and probably more, the way things were going. The last week filled with similar trials had already taught her that.

Bracing herself and taking a deep breath, she prepared to try again, trying not to flinch in anticipation of the pain.

It hurt.

It hurt a lot.
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☙ ☀ ❧

 
 
“Luna?” Celestia’s voice was soft while she gently shook her sister’s withers. “Luna, wake up.”

Luna’s response was to stir under the blankets and let out a quiet, plaintive moan. After a few seconds, her eyes slowly started to open.

“Already?” Her voice was scratchy from sleep.

“It’s sunrise,” Celestia said.

“Alright.” Luna yawned and pushed her blanket down. “I’m up.” She rose with an effort and stood next to her small bed, just a straw-stuffed mattress covered with several wool blankets. Celestia’s bed, on the other side of the room, was similar. They left much to be desired, but these were all Winter Wheat had happened to have on hoof for them to use.

Luna’s eyes, half-lidded, blinked heavily a few times while she stood unmoving, still trying to wake up. Her mane was a complete mess. Celestia reflexively grabbed a hairbrush, lifting it with her magic, and almost started brushing her sister’s tangled bed-head.

The brush stopped, hovering inches away from Luna’s mane. Celestia hesitated. She couldn’t close the distance. There was something strange and uncomfortable about it. She hadn’t brushed her sister’s hair in a long time, not since they were small fillies… but… no, that wasn’t it, not by itself. It was more… Luna was here in the same room, but it was like she was miles away. She didn’t feel close by anymore. Not lately, not since…

Not since…

Celestia set the brush down and looked away awkwardly.

“Celestia?”

Celestia glanced at Luna. There was a question in her sister’s eyes, worry on her face. It was clear that she wanted to say something.

“What?” Celestia’s voice was flat and neutral.

Luna was silent for a long, dragging moment.

“…Nevermind.” She turned and walked out to face her day shift of struggling with the moon, leaving a heavy, tense silence filling their small shared bedroom. It haunted Celestia, gnawing at the edges of her mind and setting her tossing and turning while she tried to sleep through the already too short winter’s day.

The silence she was left alone with felt like a lash, one that stung more with each passing morning. Too many mornings in a row had started like this. Celestia didn’t like it. It was beginning to feel just as bad as the burn in her sore muscles and the ache in her overstressed horn.
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☙ ☀ ❧

 
 
Two weeks, Celestia’s internal voice groused.

Two weeks of working her tail off, and she was no closer to getting anywhere. It was all Celestia could think about, filling her with a mix of frustrated anger and despair as she entered the farmhouse a little before dawn. An impulse from somewhere in the worst, most basal corner of her mind tempted her to slam the door behind herself in an expression of rage.

It would feel good, wouldn’t it? Just let some of it out.

But the better part of herself stopped and hesitated.

The thought of a telekinetic outburst with as much power behind it as she was prone to generating lately was frightening. The door wasn’t hers, and, while it was well enough made, it was just a simple thing not built to withstand such severe forces. If she really decided to throw a tantrum, she knew it would be much too easy to end up ripping it right off the hinges or breaking it into splinters.

No, the last thing she needed to compound her stress with was getting thrown out for damaging property. Instead, keeping herself in check, she erred in the opposite direction. She was gentle, using a soft careful touch while she closed the door slowly, pushing it until it latched with an almost inaudible click.

Nonetheless, in her mood, petulance had a certain savor and the restraint she showed with the door didn’t stop her from breathing a string of barely whispered curse words while she swept her frazzled, sweaty mane back out of her face.

“Well, good morning to you, too,” Winter Wheat said from behind her.

Celestia startled. She quickly turned to see the farmer watching her from the kitchen. “Oh! I didn’t know you were even awake,” she said. “Yes, good morning. Almost, anyway. The sun’s not quite up yet.”

“No, I guess it’s not,” Winter Wheat agreed. “But this is going to be one of my longer days and I need an early start. So I’m up.”

“I see.” Celestia nodded. She started walking towards the room she shared with Luna.

“Hey.” Winter Wheat trotted ahead of Celestia and stopped, blocking her path. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes, of course.” Celestia paused and waited.

“Is everything alright?”

“…What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you sure that you and your sister are really comfortable here?” Winter Wheat asked. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, I— I think we’re okay.” Celestia shook her head. “Why?”

“It’s just, you’ve been here for a while now, and both of you always look so wiped out, and sometimes you seem pretty upset,” Winter Wheat said, concern coming through clearly in her voice. “I can’t help wondering if you’re getting enough rest, or if you’re too stressed, or if something else is wrong. Is there anything I could help with?”

“No. I… just… our work is demanding, that’s all.” Celestia smiled at Winter Wheat, putting what she knew was a paper-thin mask over her fatigue and pain and hoping it was enough. “But there’s really no way around it, I’m afraid. We just have to keep going. We’re so short on time.”

“I understand.” Winter Wheat smiled back. “I know what it’s like to put in long days of hard work. I made coffee, speaking of which. There’s plenty for Luna. I’ve noticed that she seems to go through a lot of it. That’s okay, though,” she added quickly. “Easier to afford it now with some rent money coming in.”

Celestia nodded. “I’m sure she’ll be grateful.” During the silence that followed, exhaustion hit her harder than ever, suddenly washing through her down to the marrow of her bones. She wanted nothing but to collapse into bed. “Excuse me.” She resumed walking toward the shared room again. “I have to go make sure she’s up. Another tough day ahead for her, I think.” Celestia paused. “It certainly already has been for me.”

The worst thing about it was knowing that the hardest part, facing that uneasy leaden silence, was about to be upon her once again.

Comments

[Reese]

I continue to enjoy this story, by the way; thank you for writing. :)