The Book of Friendship

by BillyColt

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

If there was a list of cliches that applied to General Quake, “large and in charge” was probably at the top. When he walked through a crowd, the other ponies moved out of his way like earth tilled by a plow. Following behind him, therefore, proved to be highly expedient.

Tap took that initiative as Quake waded through the marketplace. With the way the ponies filed out of the general’s way, she was afforded some very welcome breathing room. Scroll’s locket hung by its gold chain around her neck, nesting against her breast.

The general came to a stop in front of a fruit stand and glared at the produce, as the hapless stall owner stood, shifting his hooves and looking around, as though hoping for a way out. Tap, however, cocked her head and peered at Quake’s grumpy frown.

“Since when are you into shopping?” she asked. “Or since when do you need to shop?”

“I don’t,” he said, pulling away as the stall keeper let out a very loud sigh of relief. “But I don’t want a bunch of ponies running up to me about shortages and shit. So I go around, check on the markets.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, still keeping her eyes on the general. He surveyed more of the market from where he stood, his eyes glancing from the fruit stand to the vegetable stand to the bread stand. Tap stood idly by and gave a lazy flick of her tail. She let out a bored sigh, and a pleasant fume wafted into her nose. It smelled like apple pie... In fact, it smelled a lot like Scroll’s apple pie. “Wait a minute...”

“Huh?”

“Who’s selling apple pies out here?” Tap set off in front of him, which went a little slower than when she was behind him, as she wasn’t exactly a crowd-plougher. However, she didn’t have to look far for the source of the smell. Sure enough, there was a stand set up, stacked with apple pies, and sitting in charge was a very pleased-looking Barrel. When he saw his sister, however, his beaming smile faltered and his mouth opened in confusion. “Barrel?” Tap asked. “You’re supposed to be running the tavern!”

“What?” he asked. “I thought you were supposed to...” His ears drooped. “Oh yeah. I was supposed to do that.”

“So...” Tap’s eyes narrowed. “Nopony’s running the tavern.”

“Um...” Barrel tapped on the ground with his hoof. “Actually, I think Bottle Top’s running it... He said that he’d...” He blinked. “That... probably wasn’t a good idea.”

“Probably,” intoned Tap in the lowest monotone she could muster. “What are you doing here, anyway?” A passing mare nudged her out of the way, licking her chops at the sight and smell of the pies.

“Giving away free pies,” explained Barrel, before turning to the hungry pony and forking one of them over. “Here you are.”

The mare walked off with her pie as Tap watched after her. “Huh.” She looked back at Barrel and the assortment of pies. “So what put you up to this?”

“Oh, nothin’.” He shrugged. “I just thought it’d be fun. I used Scroll’s recipe.”

“You did pretty well.”

“Yeah...” Barrel’s eyes shifted downward. “Don’t look in the trash, by the way.”

Tap chuckled. Barrel bit his lip as his eyes looked over her shoulder – the general was standing there, his face in that perpetual scowl.

“Are we done here?” he asked.

Tap nodded. “Barrel, you should get back to the tavern before the bum trips and falls down the cellar stairs.”

Barrel nodded. “Okay. I’ll just have to get wrapped up here...”

General Quake, meanwhile, had simply resumed walking down the market street. The ponies bustled around him as his glance washed over them; bored, disinterested, and contemptuous.

“Something annoying you more than usual?” Tap asked, catching up to him.

“You mean apart from everypony being a fucking idiot?” he grunted.

“RUNAWAY BARREL!” shouted a voice.

Tap turned around in time to see the crowds parting and, sure as the voice said, there was a runaway barrel – a massive water barrel that was ploughing down the road, not merely rolling, but bouncing high in the air. A long, sustained, yelling came from inside, rising abruptly in pitch every time it hit the ground.

“White!” cried a voice behind, as Brother Scroll ran after it, his red tie flapping in the wind as he desperately tried to keep up.

“I! Knew! This! Would! N’t! Work!” shouted White from inside the barrel, each syllable punctuated by his vehicle’s thump on the ground.

The two tore down the road until, by some miraculous, nonsensical force, the bouncing barrel turned the corner and disappeared from sight, with hapless Brother Scroll giving chase behind.

The crowd stopped and stared at where they had disappeared.

“Good point,” said Tap.

Quake snorted and walked on. “You and me, Tap,” he grunted. “We’re the only two ponies with any fucking brains on this island.”

The unending hubub of the crowd died away as the two left the market, turning to more dull, dusty streets in the town, lined on the sides with the uninviting wood houses. Soon, the only sound was the dull clop clopping of hooves. Quake’s, however, were more of a thud, thud, thud, thud. His eyes narrowed and shifted their attention to the gold locket around Tap’s neck. He tilted his head, looking down at her with a quizzical squint in his eye.

“Still wearing it?” he asked. “I thought you’d’ve pawned it off by now. It’d get you a few bits.”

Tap chuckled. She lifted a hoof to the locket and turned it around, smiling at it. “I thought I’d sell it, but, well, it’s nice to have something that’s just mine. Besides, I’m doing pretty damn well right now. Just so long as my brother’s absence didn’t mean lost business.” She looked back down the street where they came from, the sudden slight doubt causing her hoof to paw at the ground. “Ah, well.”

“You’re soft for those two,” he said. “Let them into your house and everything.”

“Hey,” said Tap, “hasn’t turned out badly for me yet, has it? Seemed like a good idea.”

“Well, just make sure they get some more fucking cocoa,” grumbled Quake. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tap, her head tilted and her eyebrow raised in a quizzical arch. “It calms my fucking nerves.”

“Ah. Besides,” she continued absentmindedly. “Scroll and I are dating.”

Quake let out an abrupt snort, but not his usual irritated one – this was the kind of snort that is usually accompanied by milk through the nose, and Tap turned and saw Quake with an open-mouthed grin as he laughed. It was a... jarring sight, of sorts. It was as if, for a brief instance, the general had suddenly gained Brother White’s sense of cheer. The general lifted a mighty hoof and stomped it on the ground, shaking the street around them. Tap backed up, away from the general lest he accidentally step on her. The small earthquake, however, seemed to sober the general, and he shook his head, and he looked at her with a smile that might have been considered ‘thoughtful’ had it not come from such a massive meathead.

“Dating?” he asked. “What, you fuck him for free?”

“Hey, hey,” Tap said with a swish of her tail. “Proprietress’ secret.” Her eyes caught the general’s face turning again, though, the smile curling into a cruel smirk more befitting of what she knew of him.

“He said he’d take you to Equestria, didn’t he?” he asked. Tap didn’t answer, but just pawed the dirt and flipped her mane, like he hadn’t said anything. “I think I like that locket,” he continued. “I want you to wear it when I fuck you.”

___________

A soft swishing sound flitted through the air of the library as Barrel, feather-duster in mouth, worked at the bookcase. He tilted his head to the side and took a step backwards. Not pleased with his work, he turned around and proceeded to give another go-round with his tail. As his tail was rather short, however, this largely amounted to backing into the bookcase and shaking his rump at it.

The library was cozy, even if it only had one bookcase. Scroll sat behind a desk near the front door, occasionally throwing a glance at the bookcase, as though checking to make sure it was alright with the arrangements.

The building was not particularly lavish, consisting of one large room and a lot of tables and chairs, with Scroll’s desk near the front. Windows lined the walls, ensuring that it was well-lit at all times of the day.

He sat there at the desk, looking happily ahead at the doorway. Despite the fact that nopony was coming. He let out a little sigh.

“You okay?” asked a voice from above. Scroll looked up at saw Clip, sitting on one of the rafters.

“Yes,” said Scroll, looking back at the door. He then quickly looked back up at Clip. “How’d you get up there?”

Clip looked at his surroundings up on the ceiling. “Uh...” He looked back down at Scroll. “I don’t know...”

The logbook listed only a few books checked out. Clip and Scroll were still reading through their bedtime book. One mare had checked out a cookbook, and a soldier had, funnily enough, picked up a book of poems. Scroll paused for a minute when he read that, musing to himself on what other hobbies the seemingly simple soldiers indulged in their spare time.

“Are you...” Scroll paused. “Are you okay up there?”

“Yeah...” Clip said, laying on his belly and letting one hoof dangle over the edge. “Yeah, I’m okay.” His eyes scanned the surroundings, still unable to tell how he’d gotten up there. “I think I’ll need some help getting down. Could you catch me or something? When I wanna come down, anyway?”

“Sure thing,” said Scroll.

Barrel, meanwhile, stood before the bookcase, smiling at himself at his work, as the shelves were now so clean that they literally sparkled (almost like White’s teeth). He chewed on the feather duster, briefly wondering how that was possible.

Satisfied that he’d done as marvelous a job as was possible in those circumstances, he turned to trot out the door.

“Well, see ya!” he said.

“Barrel, wait.”

He stopped, turning to looked at Scroll with a cocked eyebrow.

“I was thinking of doing a little book club here.” The missionary smiled and rubbed the back of his neck, casting a glance at the bookcase. “I was thinking maybe you should pick the first book?”

“Really?” Barrel sat down and stared off into space. “Me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Gee... Ah, I dunno... Hm... I don’t really read a lot.”

“Well, that’s okay,” said Scroll. “Just pick something that seems interesting. Then everyone in the club can read a chapter of it a week. If you have trouble, I’d be happy to help.”

Barrel looked up at him, hauling his admittedly heavy behind off of the floor. “You’d do that?”

“Sure!”

“Well, uh...” Barrel walked up to the bookcase, haltingly, as though he were sneaking up on a large, sleeping animal with very sharp teeth. “How about...” He grabbed a book with a fancy purple cover and gold letters off of the shelf. “Hff ohn?”

Scroll smiled and nodded. Apparently, satisfied with the answer, Barrel trotted off, book in his mouth, and shut the front door behind him.

Letting out a yawn, Scroll leaned back in his chair and stretched. I should’ve brought a magazine... He thought to himself. He hadn’t unduly expected the library to be crowded, so he should’ve brought something to keep himself occupied–

He noticed the bookshelf. Oh, duh.

The collection of books was one of the things Scroll was most pleased with. Even if it only had one shelf, there were still plenty of nice books. And he expected that the Fraternity would send more of them. News of the success with the water machine would reach them soon enough, and the Fraternity would be very pleased. He could see the headlines in his mind...

Missionaries Relieve Drought through Inventive Application of Science!

A wide smile crept onto his face, despite his best efforts to the contrary. He started giggling to himself, briefly forgetting about his desire to read a book.

“Hey,” called Clip from above. “I think I’d like to come down now.”

Scroll chuckled and walked under the beam where Clip was sitting. He situated himself before sitting down and outstretching his forelegs. Clip stood and balanced on the beam, looking down. He wavered, trying to eyeball the distance between himself and the floor and, in one leap of faith, hopped down, landing in Scroll’s outstretched arms with an “oof!” Scroll let him down on the floor, though he immediately hopped onto the desk instead.

“Thanks,” said Clip.

“Don’t mention it.” Scroll got up from the floor and sauntered over to the bookcase. His eyes deliberately scanned the titles of the books as he tried to pick one out to read.

“Scroll?”

He looked back. Clip was sitting on the desk, one hoof scratching at an ear and the other planted on the wooden surface.

“I...” he started. “I thought I should tell you something...”

Scroll tilted his head, a cautious eyebrow raised. “Yes?”

“Well... that thing that the unicorn general left for White?”

“The teleporter?”

Clip nodded. “Well, I found it after the flood.” He looked down and traced some circles on the desk with his hoof. “I saved it.”

Scroll was silent. Immediately one question flooded into his mind, which Clip soon asked. Clip looked up at him, but not directly. “What if...” He paused. “What if White decides to go with them?”

Scroll stood there, looking at him with a look of confusion.

“If White decides to...” he repeated. “Wha...” he sputtered, a flustered smile fighting its way onto his face. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know... Just... well... Is White in trouble?”

“I... I don’t know.” He walked from the bookshelf over to Clip. “But we should tell him.”

“We have to be honest with him?” Clip asked.

Scroll chuckled a little, a pang of guilt slipping into the tone. “Yes. This is something that affects all of us.”

Clip nodded.

“And what’s more,” Scroll continued, “we have to trust that White will do what’s best for the mission. And we have to show him that we trust him, too.”

Clip nodded again and took a deep breath.

“Hey,” said Scroll, “it’s good that you told me.”

“I hid it,” said Clip. “I hid it with my dirty socks. So if the unicorns try to use it they’ll get a noseful of dirty socks.”

A snort of laughter escaped Scroll’s nose. “Clever...” he chortled. “Very clever.” His attention, however, was soon drawn to the door. “Do you think the closed doors make the place seem unwelcome?”

“I dunno... maybe?”

Scroll decided that this was good enough reason to head over and open the doors. Seems too unwelcome with them shut, he reiterated to himself.

“Scroll?”

He looked back. Clip was still seated on the desk, looking expectantly at him. “Why don’t you have friends at home?” he asked. “I mean, you have friends here, with Brother White and Tap and Barrel and the soldiers.”

“Er...” Scroll bit his lip and chewed over it, trying to think of an explanation. “Shy, I guess. I always kind of kept to myself. I don’t have a very winning personality. Making friends here, well... White’s helped me a lot with that.”

When he hauled the doors open, he was treated to the wonderful sight of the rock overlooking the sea. He also saw a little colt sitting on the ground.

“Buzz?”

The colt nodded and stood up. “Can I come in?” he asked. His voice was soft, and somewhat higher that it had been before. The ‘tough guy’ act was nowhere to be seen.

“Yes, of course,” Scroll said, holding the door open.

Buzz trudged into the library, his posture slumped and his face staring flat at the floor. Clip watched him from his vantage point on the desk, one eye narrowed, like he wasn’t convinced of Buzz’s sincerity. However, he said nothing. Nopony said anything until Buzz pulled up a seat at one of the tables.

“Are you okay?” Scroll asked, taking the seat opposite him.

“Dad isn’t talking to me,” Buzz mumbled. “I don’t know if he’s doing it because I lied or because I...” his voice trailed off. “I don’t even know if he still cares about me.”

“Well...” Scroll said. “I don’t know. I don’t know him. But I think he does care.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, he did try to murder my friend...”

Buzz let out an abrupt snicker, before catching himself and recoiling.

“It’s okay,” Scroll whispered.

Buzz was silent.

“I don’t hate you, Buzz, or your father,” said Scroll. “And I don’t think White does, either.”

“Even after... that?”

“Even after that,” said Scroll. “I get that you’re scared. What you did was wrong. Very wrong. but I think I understand why you did it. And Buzz?”

The colt looked up, blinking.

“We’ll be your friends, if you let us,” said Scroll. “Just as long as there’s no more graffiti or slurs or peeing in the water or lying to get us killed. Okay?”

Buzz nodded.

“And no throwing rocks,” added Clip, with an attempt at a menacing wave of his hoof. Scroll stifled a giggle as best he could.

“If...” Buzz said. “If it gets worse with dad...” He looked up, and asked pleadingly, “can I stay with you?”

Scroll smiled warmly. “Yes.”

___________

“No.”

Tap extinguished the candle on the windowsill with a swift press of her hoof. Scroll was already in bed under the covers, his glasses folded neatly on the nightstand.

“There is no way I am letting that little shit under my roof,” she said. “I mean, let’s see... the guy makes some of the crassest catcalls at me, which is all the more wrong because he’s a kid and gay, he throws rocks at my brother, slaps dongs all over the door which is a fucking bitch to clean off, he knocks over water barrels meaning the customers track water and mud all over the floor, also a fucking bitch to clean up, and then there’s that whole thing about the lynch mob.”

“He’s scared, Tap.”

“Of course,” Tap sighed. “He’s scared. Well, he can join the club. I’m scared about Barrel’s safety every time I hear the cannons go off or I see clouds in the sky. Barrel gets scared every time he sees some burly asshole with a leer walking up the stairs. And you two get scared every time the general or a soldier looks at you funny. You’re scared of the general. White’s scared of the general. Hell, I’m scared of the general.” She turned around, and Scroll could see her ears were pressed flat against the sides of her head. “Everyone’s scared. Everyone’s scared and he’s still a shit.”

“He’s a kid,” said Scroll. “And he’s going to need someone to support him, and if his father doesn’t... Have a heart, Tap.” He put on a wide-eyed pout. “Pretty please?”

“Oh...” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, alright. But!” she added, just as Scroll’s pout shifted to a wide smile, “if he... comes here, if he puts his hoof out of line once, for an inch...”

“Got it.”

Satisfied that the conversation was over, Tap made her way to the other side of the bed and climbed in under the covers. Scroll, however, kept his eyes on her.

“You’re scared of him?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“Of the general,” Scroll explained. “I mean, you’re on good terms with him.”

“Hey, I’m also the one that has sex with him. Think about that for a bit.” She watched as he grimaced. “Yeah.” She leaned into her pillow and sighed.

“How long have you known him?” Scroll asked. “I mean, not if it’s something you’d rather not talk about?”

“Known him? Well...” She looked at the ceiling, thinking back. “He’s been the general here as long as I can remember. I think there was another one, back when I was really little... General Cliffside used to be in charge. But I was too young to remember him. By the time I was old enough to understand what was going on around me, it was Quake running the place. Though I didn’t really meet him until I was older, after mom and dad died and I’d started, well... You get the idea. He just decided he liked me.” She rolled over on her side, facing him. “I don’t think you’ve got a lot to be scared of with him, really. You just annoy him. White, sure, I’d worry about him, but it’s not like you’ve done anything that could set him off.”

Scroll was silent.

“You... haven’t done anything,” repeated Tap. “Right?”

Scroll’s eyes turned to a blank stare, as he slowly looked up at the ceiling.

“Scroll?” asked Tap, a hint of caution creeping into her voice. “Scroll, what did you do?”

“The water machine,” Scroll intoned in a numb, stilted voice. “It’s fine. It’s completely fine and worked fine when I got it working. Fine.”

Tap raised her head and peered at him. “Is... is there something wrong with them?”

“No, that’s the thing,” said Scroll. “They’re fine.”

“Then...”

“That’s the thing,” he continued. “Quake didn’t think it was fine. He said the first barrel of water was too salty. But it actually wasn’t.”

Tap sat there for a few seconds, blinking as the wheels turned in her head. “Wait...”

“I was just at the end of my rope. He just made too many gay cracks. So I went to find and empty barrel for the thing, And I was feeling kind of, well, ‘up,’ and... well, I...”

“WOAH!” Tap yelled. Her eyes wide with alarm, and she seemed like she was about to fall off of the bed. “Y... you didn’t,” she stammered, gawking down at Scroll. The missionary’s face was solemn and grim as he lay there on the bed, the covers pulled halfway up over his face. “You... that...” Tap sputtered as her face contorted and scrunched as she went through several different expressions, before she let out one massive sigh and flopped back down onto the bed. “I don’t know whether to laugh or scream...”

“I’m gonna die...” Scroll whimpered. “If Quake finds out he’s gonna kill me...”

“Hey, hey,” Tap said. “Just... just relax, okay. Nopony knows about it. The thought never even crossed his mind, and as long as this doesn’t go beyond our bedroom, nothing will come of it. Hell, if you told him, he probably doesn’t even remember.” She rubbed her temples. “Fuck, Scroll. That... that’s crazy. It’s funny as hell, but... Shit.”

Scroll groaned, pulling the covers up to completely cover his face.

“Well, let’s just not worry about it. And hey.” She smiled. “That’s pretty ballsy of you,” she reassured, pulling them off of his face again.

“Please don’t mention my nethers...”

Tap let out another sigh and settled her head back onto the pillow. Her feelings were an odd mixture of relief, amusement, and alarm.

“I guess you’re right, though,” Scroll mumbled. “Still, I’m worried that if White does something–”

“Pretty sure nothing like that...”

“Still, if he gives Quake a reason to... I just worry he won’t be safe.”

The two lay there for a few minutes, not saying anything at all. The only sound was a soft ruffling of the sheets as Scroll scooched a little closer to Tap.

“Well,” whispered Tap. “I’ll stand by both of you. Then he won’t do a thing. White’ll be fine.”

Scroll smiled. “Thanks.” He took several deep breaths. “Mustn’t get too worried... can’t sleep if I’m stressed. Mind if I open the blinds? It’s a little dark in here.”

“Oh, sure.”

There were more sounds of shuffling in the sheets as he rolled out of bed and walked over to the window. He drew open the blinds and the silver moonlight poured in, illuminating the room. Tap watched him as he stood there, staring out at the night sky.

“What’s got you so interested?” asked Tap, propping herself up on the pillow.

“Oh, nothin’...” Scroll shrugged as he walked back. With the moonlight filling in, they could see each other a lot better. “It’s just gonna be a full moon in a few nights. So bright it’s almost like day, except you can’t get sunburned. It’s very...” He stopped at the edge of the bed, looking at Tap. She looked back at him, a curious eyebrow raised at his soft, dreamy expression as he just gazed back at her. “It’s very pretty.”

Tap chuckled as Scroll crawled into bed, the missionary letting out a relieved sigh, as though the light from the window was a comfort for him. As though he had desperately needed a night light.

“Does Brother White have songs about pretty nights?” Tap asked, putting her hooves behind her head.

“Probably a whole list.”

She laughed, but Scroll went silent for a moment, staring up at the ceiling and seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

“I wonder if he gets lonely,” he said at length.

“Hmm?”

“Well...” Scroll wiggled a little. “We’ve been sleeping together almost ever since we got on the island. Now we’ve sort of got this...” He raises his hooves and fumbled around with them. “Alternating bedding schedule...” He looked over at Tap. “Not that I’m complaining.” He added, to which Tap let out a quiet snicker. “But I just wonder how he’s taking it.”

They lay there for a while, their eyes shut, ready to drift off to sleep.

Then, Tap opened her eyes asked, “So, what were you thinking about when you did it?”

Scroll let out a high-pitched squeak and yanked the covers over his face.

Knock knock.

“Who’s there?” asked Scroll.

The door cracked open just a little, and White’s voice called through. “Hey,” he said. His muzzle just barely poked through the crack in the door, and both Scroll and White stared at it, as the moonlight gleamed off of White’s teeth when he spoke. “I was just putting together the letter for us to send to the Fraternity. I was just wondering about supplies. Are we low on toothpaste?”

“Um...” said Scroll. “I don’t think we are.”

“Only one pony uses it...” muttered Tap.

White produced a lengthy sheet of parchment from behind the door, which unrolled in midair and snaked all the way down to the floor. “Scarves?”

“We don’t need scarves,” said Scroll. “They don’t have winter here, and we got a bunch of scarves for Hearth’s Warming that we never used.”

“Oh yeah...” A scratching noise indicated that White had crossed the item out. “Milk?”

“I think we’re low on that,” said Scroll. “But nopony drinks that except us. I mean, it should be stuff the islanders need.”

“All right then, how about...” White continued listing things off, as Tap let out a long, silent sigh. She could all but feel herself sinking, melting into the bed.

“Cocoa?” White asked at last. Tap’s ears pricked up.

“Cocoa?” She lifted her head out of what seemed to her like a pit in her pillow. “The general... likes cocoa,” she finished matter-of-factly, before dropping her head back down onto the pillow. The door opened wider and White peered inside. Both missionaries looked at her curiously. “It calms his nerves.”

White just stood in the doorway. “Huh. Well, that’s nice to know.”

There was a pregnant pause as the three of them basked in silence, pondering over the image of General Quake daintily adding marshmallows to his mug, all the while scowling and cursing his overly large hooves.

“Of course he’d like cocoa,” muttered Scroll. “Who doesn’t?”

“It’s good for a lot of things,” said White. “It’s a nice, comforting drink, great when it’s cold... though it’s never cold here. It makes me think of a warm glowing fireplace, with friends and family around... cheerful, and... stuff.”

“Yeah,” agreed Scroll. “It makes me think of home at wintertime, and...” His voice trailed off as well. “I miss home sometimes,” he muttered, as White sighed in melancholy agreement.

Tap lay there in the middle of the awkward silence the missionaries left. She looked at White, who sulked as his mind went back home, where he would surely have been wearing a scarf. She looked at Scroll, whose eyes had drifted to the ceiling, no doubt absorbed in the invisible picture of his idyllic home life.

“You two seem lonely,” she said at length. “Hey, White.” His face raised up out of his homesick slump. “Why don’t you sleep with us tonight?”

Scroll sat up, his eyes a little wide with surprise at Tap’s suggestion. He gave a little cough, before reaching up to his face with a hoof only to realize that he’d taken his glasses off.

“Yeah,” he said. “That sounds nice.”

“Okay then!” White piped, with a bright yet dainty clop-clop on the floor as he trotted over to the bed.

___________

The tavern’s regular affairs proceeded at a dull, contented murmur. During the day things were never too hectic, though today was busier than usual. This left Barrel little time to enjoy his book, as he had to be drawn from his table to tend to customers.

To the relief of all parties involved, Barrel had been screwing up orders a lot less in the past few days, owing in part to his writing orders down on a notepad. Granted, there were still a few problems with the system – while he had assured himself that he would not forget an order, he could still forget the pony that ordered it. It occurred to him to attempt to draw the cutie mark of the ordering pony in question, but not only was he a poor artist, but he realized that this would require him to look at another stallion’s ass.

“Not that ale, you idiot!”

“Right! Right!” Barrel said as he scurried back to the counter to fetch the correct tankard. He set the current one down, assured that at least it was somepony’s order. Whose order, however, he could not remember...

“Hey! Where’s my order?”

That answered that question.

Once Barrel was satisfied that he’d served the customers correctly, he returned to the counter and back to the book. He had, however, lost his place yet again, and had to go back to the start of the page to catch up. The book gave him difficulty – the writing was at times extraordinarily dense, and the author was so fond of ironic humor that Barrel sometimes had to pause to wonder if he was being made fun of.

Ponykind always has and always will be playing at foalish games, which is quite tiresome to those of us who choose to grow up.

The door opened, and Barrel looked up in time to see the missionaries walk in, their ties ruffled and engaged in a conversation.

“Listen, comic books just don’t appeal to me,” said White.

“Well, what’s wrong with them?” Scroll asked.

“They’re just too violent... Hi Barrel!”

“Hi!”

“Hi! They’re not all violent...”

And that was the extent of the conversation that Barrel heard before they disappeared into the other room. He looked down at his book and began reading again, and realized more quickly this time that he’d read that line five times now. He proceeded to read the next page without any incident before the missionaries emerged from the room wearing flashy bowties and top hats.

“Ready?”

“Ready!”

___________

The water machine was the best thing that had happened to Tap in ages. Now she could bathe and wash her hair as much as she wanted without worrying about the shortage. At this point she now understood why Brother White was so adamant about his daily showers; they simply felt wonderful.

She made her way up the stairs to the bedroom. Barrel had long since gone to sleep, and she found herself wondering whether she should force him to bathe regularly. He’d probably get annoyed, though, she thought, ultimately deciding against it. As she approached her bedroom, her mind wondered if she could take some hygiene tips from Brother White.

When she opened the door, however, she was greeted with a strange sight. Brother Scroll was lying on the bed, facing away from the door. He seemed to be wearing a tiara on his head, silver hoof slippers, and a clear blouse. Upon hearing the door open, he slowly lifted his head, propping himself up on one leg, and craned his neck back. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and he gave a soft, shy smile. Until he saw Tap's face, at which point the smile turned to a look of alarm. He scrambled to turn around – and the lacy outfit did not help him to do this – and sat up.

"T-Tap!" he sputtered. "I, uh..."

Tap stood there, her face blank. She just stared at Scroll as his blue face slowly turned red.

"Um..." a voice behind her said. She turned around and saw Brother White standing there, bedecked in fake gold armor.

“What...” Tap blinked, frozen where she stood. “What are you doing?”

“Well, uh...” Scroll said, fumbling around. As he wasn’t wearing his glasses, he didn’t have anything to fiddle with. “We thought you’d be a little longer with your bath...”

“We’re playing a game,” said White. Tap craned her head, looking over his costume. “We’re playing ‘Castle.’”

“Yeah!” Scroll sat up. “We’re pretending we live in Canterlot castle. He’s a guard, and I’m Princess Luna.” He smiled, letting out a tiny squeak. White pressed against the doorway, slipping past Tap, who just stood there, staring at the two roleplaying missionaries. Scroll spoke up again. “Wanna play?”

“Okay...” Tap stepped into the room. “What as?”

"Well, umm..." Scroll fumbled around for a bit, before finding his glasses. "Here, put these on." He put them on Tap's face, but left them lopsided as he rushed to the desk. Tap adjusted them, wondering to herself how he saw anything at all, before he came back with a stack of papers. "You can be the secretary!"

“Uh...” Tap watched as White floated the stack and a quill over in front of her. Sitting down, she extended her front legs as the materials fell into her hooves. “Huh. Okay, then. So how do I play?”

___________

In a bout of seeming spontaneity, Tap tossed her mane and laughed, skipping ahead of Scroll in the road. He followed after her at a brisk trot.

“Hold up!” he called after her. She didn’t stop, but slowed down to a walking pace, allowing him to catch up.

They left the town and slowed down to a leisurely walk along the beach on the way to the library. A few seagulls cried from above in the starlit night sky.

“You know, and don’t take offense, but I thought that whole playing pretend and dress-up thing would be really, really dumb,” she admitted. “But I had a lot of fun!”

“I’m glad.” Scroll pawed at his face and blushed. “Dressing up as a princess, well...”

“Aw, you make a pretty princess.”

Scroll’s blush deepened.

“Hey! Slow down!” called White. “It isn’t a race!”

White and Clip followed behind at a brisk trot, while Barrel kept a more leisurely pace, a bored-looking seagull perched on his back.

“We could lose them over the hill?” Scroll suggested with a wink, to a guffaw from Tap.

She smiled wryly at the library. “Really, Scroll, I get you’re proud of it and all, but come on, what’s so special?”

“No no no,” Scroll said, gently turning her in the direction of the edge of the rock overlooking the sea. “Not the library. Something else. Besides, it’s not a very good library anyway.”

They walked slowly to the edge and sat there as the others caught up, staring up at the full moon, floating in the sky and bathing the beach in a soft, bright glow. Tap stepped towards the edge.

“Woah,” she said simply.

“When I was younger, mom would sort of set a curfew for me,” said Scroll. “But when it was a full moon she’d let me stay out later. It was bright enough to see by. She’d take me for walks and...” He looked at Tap, who was smiling at him, barely concealing a giggle. “I guess... talking about my mom seems kind of silly...”

“I don’t look at the sky much,” said Tap. “I’ve always just sort of, well, kept my head on the ground. I’ve never liked looking at the sky. Always just scared I’ll see a cloud or something, I guess.”

The others came up behind them. Clip was staring in wide-eyed awe, but Barrel asked, “Couldn’t we have seen it just fine from the tavern?”

“Scroll?” White asked. Scroll looked back at him.

“Hmm?”

“Clip said you had something to tell me.”

Scroll looked to Clip, who nodded at him, as if saying “go on.”

“Yes,” Scroll said. “Could you... just step aside with me for a second?”

White nodded and walked back towards the library. Clip hopped off of his back and trotted to the edge of the rock, making a seat for himself between Tap and Barrel.

“Well?” asked White.

“Well, Clip and I were talking earlier today...” Scroll said, hemming and hawing.

“Ah, that’s good,” said White. “Nice to see you’ve patched up about the whole ‘lying’ thing.”

“Well, it’s not that,” said Scroll. He sighed. There was no delicate way to introduce this. “It’s General Monarch.”

“He hit me in the face with a conk spell.”

“Concussion spell,” Scroll corrected.

“I like ‘conk’ better,” muttered White. “That’s what it felt like.”

“Well, Clip held onto that teleporter he gave you,” said Scroll. “He’s, uh... Heh,” he chuckled. “Kept it in with his dirty socks.”

“That explains why he hasn’t been putting them in the laundry...” White mused, his eyes momentarily drifting off into space in contemplation of the accumulating filth of unwashed clothing. He blinked and looked back at Scroll. “And?”

“And...” said Scroll. “Well, I...” He looked at Clip. “We thought you should know. After all, that’s... your decision. Er, that is, uh, I mean...”

“What?” asked White. “I’m not gonna do anything about it. I wouldn’t have cared if it just got lost in the flood. Actually, I’m pretty amazed Clip saved the thing...”

Scroll nodded silently.

“Hey,” White said. “What’s the matter?”

“I just... get worried sometimes,” said Scroll, his eyes sinking down and down. “About the mission. About Quake... About you being safe.” He couldn’t look White in the eye, and found himself staring right at the ground at White’s hooves. Then one of those hooves raised itself to his chin, pulling his face up to look up at his companion’s as he smiled reassuringly.

“Scroll, I’m not afraid of the general,” said White. “None of them. And I’m not going anywhere. So you don’t have to worry about a thing. You got that?”

Scroll smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

“I won’t leave you,” said White. “I couldn’t.”

They turned and walked back to the edge of the cliff. The other three were looking out over the water, as the ever-still sea around the island formed a mirror for the moon, magnifying it and bathing the island in the gentle pale glow of the night.

There was a minute of silence, punctuated periodically by a lazy gull. Then a low explosion sounded from the town. The group all turned heads to look in that direction, and more explosions sounded. Cannons.

___________

The ground shook as the group ran into the library. Scroll slammed the doors shut behind them and looked frantically at the windows.

“They won’t come here...” he muttered. “They’ll just... just...” He walked up to the window and looked back at the town. “Oh, Celestia...” he whispered.

The cannons boomed in the town, but from the library they weren’t so much the deafening roar they had been. From so far out of the town they seemed muffled and otherworldly, like the festive bang of fireworks.

“Who is it?” asked Barrel. “Unicorns or pegasuses?”

“No clouds in the sky,” said Tap, peering out of another window. “Gotta be unicorns.” She turned back to them. “This place might be safe. They’ll probably just focus on the town unless they notice this place. With any luck, we’ll just have to wait it out.” She looked at the missionaries, both of whom were looking down at the floor and shuffling their hooves. “What’s the matter?”

“We can’t help...” said Clip.

“Back in the mission house we could always get ponies to stay safe from the attacks,” said White. “Well, almost always.”

“Well, they’ll just have to do with their basements and safehouses,” said Tap. “You can’t get everything.”

“Well, sometimes it’d be nice to get, well, anything,” mumbled Scroll. The two walked over to the table and sat down.

“Well,” said White, taking a shallow sigh and sitting up. “We got a deck of cards in here?”

___________

An hour passed, and the cannons continued to roar. The earth shook, and the cries of gunshots echoed over the beach into the library. This made “Go Fish” a much less fun game to play than it might’ve been.

“King me!” said Barrel, laying down his stack of four kings.

“That’s checkers,” said Clip.

“Hey, I get to say it sometime,” Barrel whined.

A loud thump sounded on the door. All the ponies looked at it, their breath short as though the thump on the door had been in place of a collective skipped heartbeat.

“Open the damn door!” gasped Carpenter’s voice from outside.

The missionaries immediately jumped out of their seats and ran to the front door, opening it. Carpenter tumbled in, nearly falling to the ground but still managing to support himself. He slowly trudged through the room to the nearest seat and sat down, clutching at his side. He was bleeding from a wound.

“What happened?” asked Scroll.

“Got shot,” Carpenter grunted. “Nothing big. Not important.” He looked around the room. “Where’s Buzz?”

The missionaries looked at each other.

“He’s not here,” said Tap. “That all you needed to know?”

“He’s... he’s not with you?” asked Scroll.

“What’s it look like?” Carpenter sneered. “He isn’t home, and last I knew you two faggots were fucking inviting him over.”

“Well you’re out of luck,” said Tap, shuffling the deck of cards.

“Well then where is he?” asked Carpenter.

The others looked at each other, looking for an answer on someone else’s face, but there were none to be had, and they exchanged shrugs and shaken heads. All except for Brother Scroll.

“I think I know where he is,” said Scroll. “I think he’s at the tavern.”

Comments

[Xuncu]

Heh, never woulda thought I would need to say "I need my gay mormon pony fix."

[Your Antagonist]

Once again another hot chapter, can't wait to see how they deal with this whole Buzz development.

[Silver Wind]

Love this story...

[An Unimpressive]

“Probably,” intoned Tap is the lowest monotone she could muster.

[BillyColt]

2107429
That'll teach me to jump the gun on publishing.

[PeachClover]

Errors found in chapter 27: "Hell, I’m scared of the geneal.” and "he’d taken his glass off."