9 - Autumn Mornings
Monday morning, two weeks after I’d asked my brother for a letter of recommendation, I started my new job. The Hoofington Guard’s Citadel was smaller than Farrington’s—and it was built out of wood—but they still had a lot of inter-guard correspondence.
I spent most of my first day walking from wooden desk to wooden desk, picking up and dropping off envelopes. Whenever my mail rounds were finished, it was then my job to head out into the city and supply the high-ranking guards with the information they needed to keep things running smoothly.
All in all, it was easy work, and I never had to leave the city—I’d made sure to ask about that point during the interview process. The best part of my job, by far, was how nice everyone was. Yeah, I was new, but I hadn’t expected the guards to treat a secretary with as much politeness as they showed me.
Four years in the service industry had clearly taken a toll on my expectations.
By Wednesday, I knew my entire day’s schedule by heart. It wasn’t the most mentally involved job ever, but I liked my routine. At four fifty-five—just like Tuesday—I finished up sorting the night shift’s mail before giving the mailroom one last round of organization. Once that was done, I headed out into the main area to find Sergeant Pepper, my boss, to let her know I was done for the day.
When I got outside the entrance to the Citadel, a gray stallion waved at me. He was a little on the shorter side, for a stallion, but I’d recognize his matted-down mane anywhere: Iron’s used to look exactly like that after a shift, before he gave up on actually having a mane.
Anyway, this guard was around my age, if maybe a little younger. I smiled back at him and asked, “What’s up?”
“Uh… Maxie, right?”
I nodded.
He rubbed his right hoof against his left foreleg, then he said, “I’m Silver Lance, and…” His face flushed. “I was wondering if you were busy Friday?” I raised an eyebrow, but before I could think about his question too hard, he shot me a sheepish grin and stammered, “B… but, if you’re busy, or don’t want to, that’s—”
“I’d love to.” I smiled back at him. Even though it was weird for me, making plans with a stallion days in advance, he was too cute to say no to. Besides, it was just dinner; nothing had to happen unless we both wanted it to. If things clicked, I wouldn’t mind having a new friend—or more—in Hoofington.
Maybe he could even show me around.
We made plans for dinner after our shift on Friday, at six o’clock; after that, we parted ways for the evening. I mused about Lance all the way home. His helmet mane reminded me about how I hadn’t sent Iron a thank-you letter. I’d asked for a letter of recommendation, but since the Farrington City Council was dumb enough to demote him, he’d come through with three: one from him, one from the new captain, and one from my old boss.
When I got back to my apartment’s blue carpet and white walls, I set my saddlebags on their hook in the hallway before heading into my living room. It was decorated how I wanted it—neat, but not sparse. I’d found a store that sold posters for some of my favorite graphic novels and a place that sold modern-looking furniture; the rest was just a simple process of making the apartment into a home.
After sitting down at my desk, I levitated out some paper. As I inked my quill, I chastised myself a little; I’d promised to keep in touch with Iron, but it’d almost been two weeks since I’d written to him. I told myself I’d have to start writing weekly letters; Iron and I hadn’t fixed our relationship just for me to throw it away by falling out of touch.
I smiled and put the quill to the paper.
September 13
Dear Iron
Thanks for the letters of recommendation. Mr. McFeely’s was a nice touch, and Captain Horatio’s was…
Well, what, is the city council drunk, or just stupid? I mean, at least you’re not Officer Bulwark again, but geez. You’d think they’d be better to the guy who’s done everything that you’ve done over the years.
But whatever.
Hoofington’s nice. My apartment’s newly refurbished, and the few neighbors I’ve met seemed cool enough. I know it’s super early to say anything, but between the ponies, the city, and my job… I dunno. I think I might do all right here for the long haul.
The guard job’s awesome, by the way (and thank you again). Everyone’s polite to me instead of nagging about prices, or what “fragile” means, or using the addressing ink to write letters…
Tell your girlfriend hi, I guess.
Anyway, now that you’ve got Sundays free again, you should come visit sometime; I’ve gotten settled, so my couch is now open for crashing on. For you. If you bring a guest or something... I’ll buy you two a room.
Sorry it took me so long to write back; I’m going to be better about writing stuff in the future. Until next time, take care of yourself.
Love,
Maxie
I folded Maxie’s letter back up and set it on my coffee table. On the couch next to me, Gilda asked, “So… how’s your sister doing?”
“Better,” I admitted. “No one’s flashed her yet, which she says is an added benefit to her new job.”
Gilda rolled her eyes and shook her head. “She didn’t say that.” Before I could stop her, she snatched up the letter, unfolded it, and read it. A few seconds later, she folded the letter back up and said, “Huh. She did talk about me.” After tossing it back onto the table, Gilda added, “Whatever.”
I gave her a flat look before requesting, “Please don’t read my mail like that.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were reading it. Like, an activity. Together.”
“Well…” I trailed off, realizing she had a point. If I wanted to keep matters private, I should probably do them in private. After a shrug, I replied, “Fair enough. I’ll… remember that in the future.”
She returned my shrug. “Speaking of future, what are we doing tonight?”
I passed the shrug back. We’d eaten dinner right after our shifts, so we’d have to actually go somewhere if we went out. I didn’t mind that one bit; the more that Gilda saw of Farrington, the more she’d be able to enjoy the city itself. In fact, she’d already found one thing: Every Tuesday evening, she continued her volunteering at the hospital.
Since tonight was Friday, and we had the potential of spending the entire night together, I offered a suggestion: “The trees in Reservoir Park are beginning to change color; we could go see that.”
“Friday, at like…” Gilda looked at the clock. “Seven, by the time we get there?” She turned back to me. “I want to do something together, not with like a bazillion other ponies.”
I nodded. “Okay then. What do you have in mind?”
Her eyes darted to Maxie’s letter and back to me. “Well… uh, I guess... well, first, I wanted to talk to you about something. Remember how I was gonna move here?”
My heart jumped up into my throat; I’d wanted Gilda to move to Farrington, not into my house with me. Between my sergeant’s workload that I brought home with me to let me patrol the streets and getting used to Maxie’s absence, I wasn’t ready to have a new roommate, let alone a live-in romantic partner.
That must’ve shown on my face, because Gilda shook her head. “I mean… move in to Farrington, not your house. That’s… well…” She reeled back away from me with a wide-eyed, horrified expression. “That’s how I feel about it, too.” She leaned back next to me and asked, “But maybe, I spend the night tonight… then tomorrow, we look at apartments?”
I wrapped a hoof around Gilda. It’d been two weeks since our date at the refinery, and this wasn’t her first time spending the night with me; still, I wanted her to be comfortable with her plans, so I tried not to give her sleeping arrangements any undue scrutiny. “That’s doable. And if we hurry, tonight, we can buy a newspaper, to look at listings.”
She nodded. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”
* * *
The next morning, it was barely a quarter past nine when we got to the third apartment on our list. As soon as the landlord opened the door for us, Gilda stated, “This one.”
I turned to her and asked, “Are... Don’t you want to go inside first?”
She shrugged “Fine. But this one has a balcony.”
I didn’t want to crush her spirits by reminding her of Farrington’s no-flight rules; still, we were three stories off the ground, so perhaps she just wanted an elevated place to sit. “Okay then,” I agreed. “Let’s look around.”
The landlord, a pale yellow mare, smiled at us before saying, “I’ll wait outside for you two.”
Gilda and I went into her prospective apartment; despite my reservations of her abrupt commitment, it was a nice place. As we walked through the rooms, I took note: the carpeting looked new, there wasn’t any overt evidence of pests, and—
“Look! A stove!”
I chuckled at our running joke for the morning. My over-exuberance at being a supportive boyfriend had resulted in some rather inane comments at the first apartment—which wasn’t a bad place, but Gilda hadn’t liked that it was underground.
“And a couch...”
She walked a little closer to me and ducked into a hug. I held her there for a moment, in the pre-furnished living room, before she started out towards the balcony. I kept my foreleg around her while she figured out the latch on the sliding door; a few moments later, the two of us were seated on the balcony, which had a wide view of—
“And a whole city.” This time, her voice was quiet.
I nuzzled her cheek and asked, “Is this the one you want?”
“Do you like it?”
I moved my lips away from her ear and pulled her in tighter into a hug. I spoke neutrally, since I was with her in an advising role. “It’s within your budget, there’s nothing glaringly wrong with it, and you like the balcony—”
“Uh, I’m a griffin, Iron.”
“Well, then, I think you’ll like it here.”
She gave a soft, snuggle-like nod. “Cool. Wanna help me sign all the stuff?”
“Of course.”
We stayed together on her balcony for a while longer; between the view and our embrace, it was quite comfortable. I’d meant it when I’d said that Gilda would like it there; more importantly, I felt it was a good home for her.
It was the home I deserved.
I scoffed, looking around at the concrete walls of my old basement apartment in Stalliongrad. It was, quite literally, a hole in the ground. Unsurprisingly, it looked the same as it did when I’d left it two decades ago. Despite the single, coverless light bulb in the center of the ceiling, the main chamber—I refused to call it a living room—was dark, cold, and barren.
Back then, I’d been Serzhant Mest, operating on one single goal in mind: to tear down Stalliongrad’s organized crime structure. From the time I transferred out of Manehattan P.D. to Stalliongrad Politsiya, it’d taken me four years to achieve that goal.
It’d taken me three weeks, after that, before I lost my righteousness and started working with the criminals.
Now, thanks to Cold Front, I at least had some earthly possessions. I spat on the floor—not like it was clean, anyway—and headed over to the stack of boxes near my front door. They’d come with a price, or rather, a new goal that I had to set for myself.
Cold Front wanted Farrington. He wanted me to help. And he’ll probably think I am, right until I pour hot steel down his throat.
The image made me grin, even though it’d take several months’ preparation before I could strike. However, that was the new rule in Stalliongrad: Farrington was off-limits. If I had to single-hoofedly take control of Stalliongrad to ensure that... well, then so be it.
Maybe that would let me sleep at night.
There was one last thing I needed to do before I began my takeover of Stalliongrad; it began with rummaging through the boxes to find paper and a pen.
I knew that I didn’t owe Iron a damn thing. Hell, from what I’d heard, he wanted me dead. It was… cute, almost, but he was making threats against someone who was miles outside his league. I felt it was only fair to warn him about the forces he was playing with:
September 18
Sergeant Iron Bulwark:
I suppose this is the part of everything where I’m supposed to tell you how sorry I am, and I regret that everything went in the direction it did. But even if I did regret anything, what would the point be of apologizing? You know what I did, I know what I did, and things can never go back to how they were.
For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.
But it doesn’t change a damn thing.
I heard about your cute little “request” to the courts, with me and Red, by the way. I didn’t take much pleasure in burning off my last few Farrington connections to have you sacked, but... if that’s how you want to play things, then here’s the rules:
1) If you ever try to pull anything like that again, I will kill you. If you have a problem with what I did, you can come and do your own damn dirty work for once. Equestrian Guard knows better than to set hoof in Stalliongrad, and you should too. Which brings me to:
2) You, your friends, your family, and your known associates can consider yourselves banned from Stalliongrad. If you come here, I will find you. It won’t be personal. I won’t enjoy it. But it’ll be what happens. I’ll let you pass that warning along.
So again, I’m sorry for how things turned out—especially with those conditions you brought upon yourself. But really, it’s only Stalliongrad (to you). Ask your girlfriend if it’s really so bad to be banned from a place that’s filled to the brim with vicious predators.
This is goodbye, Iron. As long as you stay out of my city (and make no mistake, Stalliongrad IS my city, now), I wish you the best, happiest, and most fruitful life possible.
Who knows. Maybe you even deserve it.
I stood in Captain Horatio’s office on Thursday, September twenty-first, at a quarter after five. He’d requested that I stop by the Citadel after my sergeant’s patrol, but he’d waited until we were behind closed doors before he gave me Sherry’s letter.
Because I was used to being his superior, I was well-practiced in the art of concealing my emotions from him; that was the only way I managed to keep from trembling.
I re-read her letter and tried to fit it in with the Sherry I’d used to know. It did fit, though it fit in an almost twisted, dark manner. Everything about her—down to her hoofwriting—seemed sharper and clearer. It was a sobering lesson, to find out that I’d used to be close to a monster who raged with the fury of a natural disaster.
Part of me missed those days, back when we were friends, but she said it best: Things couldn’t go back to how they were. Between Gilda, Starfall, and counseling, I had found ways to fill the void of Sherry’s death to me.
“Death” was how I liked to think about it, at any rate—especially since I was now, apparently, banned from entering Stalliongrad. The only alternative would be to lump her departure in with the fall of the Hooves Syndicate.
The Sherry I knew wouldn’t have wanted that.
Red Hooves’ “cowardly” plea bargain had gone through according to his desires, and his sister was now a free mare who was banished from Farrington. Given the glare that Fast Hooves had given Horatio, Gilda, and me down in the prison, I doubted that she truly wanted to return.
I passed Sherry’s letter back to Horatio and said, “This is either evidence or fuel for the incinerator, sir.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
We traded salutes, I left for the day, and that was the end of that.
* * *
The next morning, before our shift, Gilda and I were eating our usual Friday breakfast together. We were making plans for the upcoming weekend when Starfall walked into the diner. The first thing that I noticed about him was that he carried himself in high spirits that morning; I chalked that up to the second thing I noticed: his right wing no longer bore a hot-pink cast.
I slid over in the booth to let Starfall have a seat; across the table from me, Gilda mirrored my movement. As Star sat down, he beamed a smile and commented on her plate: “You should get hash browns; it’s breakfast.”
She glared back: “It’s eight-fifteen; I shouldn’t have to deal with you for another hour.” Starfall cringed at that, complete with falling ears; Gilda looked down and muttered. “Sorry. I’m not a morning griffin.”
“It’s cool, ST.” Starfall turned to me, paused, thought better of whatever he had been about to say, and instead began with, “Sorry for interrupting your breakfast thing, but I just got good news!”
His hooves were jittering upon the table at that point, so I grinned back at him. “Is it your wing?”
Absently, he looked over his shoulder before turning back to me. “Oh. No. Well... Okay, I guess... Yeah, this morning, Comet and I both went to the hospital; my doctor said it looks like, if I do some physical therapy, I can probably fly again in like January.”
Starfall’s excitement was contagious. I shrugged and asked him, “So... what, then?” My smile grew as I connected the dots: “And why was Comet going to the hospital?”
There were tears in the corners of his eyes when he said, “Next August.”
I pulled him into a congratulatory hug; after two pats, he broke away and I turned to a thoroughly bewildered Gilda. “Comet’s... uh...”
“I’m going to have another kid!”
Gilda’s confused frown deepened; then, she raised one eyebrow, followed by the other. “Congrats. But... isn’t it… like… don’t mares, uh…”
Starfall waved a dismissive hoof. “Yeah, Comet’s always been a bit early like that; surprised the hell out of...” His eyes shot wide open and he glanced from her, to me, and back to her. “If either of you tells her I just said that...”
Across the table, Gilda made a motion like zipping her beak shut; I shrugged and changed the topic to something I’d just remembered: “Speaking of birthdays, isn’t yours coming up?”
“Yeah, next week.” He mock-frowned. “Nice of you to remember.”
I smiled back. “Maybe I’ll have Memo schedule me a reminder—”
He shook his head. “Oh no. Seven years, and she’s never figured that one out. Don’t you dare.”
Gilda’s eyebrow shot up again. “You... and the secretary?”
“Not... me. Her. I keep telling her to stop.”
“Oh...” She chuckled. “What happened to your usual tactical assholery?”
He shrugged. “She... she doesn’t deserve that.”
From there, conversation flowed into the other various parts of our lives that morning. Gilda mentioned that she was going to be moving into the city over the weekend, Starfall offered to help, and I sat back and grinned warmly.
Despite their differences, or perhaps because of them, it was good to see Starfall and Gilda engaging in friendly conversation. When I thought more about it, the two of them had similar personalities—or at least, the two of them could be crass and brazen in the same manner. Either way, I was glad that they were able to actually speak with one another.
Even as Gilda declined Starfall’s offer for help—she didn’t own many things—I felt glad that the three of us were able to begin and share lives together in Farrington.
Life in Farrington, for me, started on the twenty-fifth of September—my apartment’s move-in day. Since that fell on a Monday, it needed some coordination between Iron and me. The plan was for me to wake up in my cave early on Sunday, pack up my stuff in the saddlebags that Iron had lent me, and spend the afternoon and night at his house. Then, on Monday evening, he’d help me get moved in and take me shopping to get the bare essentials to last me until the weekend.
When I woke up on Sunday morning, I smiled and thought about how I really couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend. I was aware that some of my inner, happy warmth probably came from fertility hormones and stuff; however, even if I wasn’t right in the middle of the achy, yearning fun that came with every equinox, I’d have to admit that Iron was both good to me and for me.
I stood up and walked through my cave. Ever since Red Hooves’ attack, I’d mostly abandoned the place; still, I’d lived there for three years. Everything—the cracks in the walls, the general shape of the floor—had been a huge part of my life for the past three years. It had been my home.
Had been.
With a shrug, I started packing. My first decision was to just leave my blanket. Yeah, it was mine, but it’d been mine, outdoors, for three years without any sort of washing. It’d only cost thirty bits when I bought it, and I could probably earn that much being a guard in less time than it would take to clean it. Maybe some young drake or something would find it comfy, or maybe it’d just stay there forever until it rotted into nothing.
The rest of my belongings were pretty easy to pack up into Iron’s saddlebags: First, there were my loose bags of pay from the Guard. My personal coin sack was back at Iron’s house, but ever since mid-June, I’d always kept the bulk of my money off to the side to avoid stretching out my centuries-old, irreplaceable coin sack. Apparently, in Farrington, they had places that gave me money for keeping my wages safe with them, so I didn’t really have any objections to that; I’d just need to bring the bits with me to the city.
Next, there were my writing supplies I’d used to write Gildas Tagebuch. My next use for them was going to be planning out some new stories to tell the kids at the hospital; even with my additions, Sharfkral legends were starting to run dry, and they deserved top-notch entertainment. Plus, my therapist said I needed a creative outlet, so everyone won there.
I still had the diary itself, but I didn’t know whether or not to bring it with me—it wasn’t like anyone in Farrington could read my language, anyway. With a shrug, I packed it. Maybe it’d be useful in a few years, or maybe I could put in footnotes to show Doctor Sunshine, or maybe even Iron. Plus, I’d ended up sticking my letters to my sister and uncle in it; those, I wanted to keep.
Next, there was my stupid rabbit alarm clock. I chuckled; it was still far too cute for its own good, but it’d been reliable for the past few months. I’d need it for my apartment, anyway, so I put it in the saddlebag with my writing stuff, which was softer than the money in my other one. There was no need to break it mid-flight if I could help it.
After my medical and anti-manticore supplies—which would probably mess things up in the Jägerwald if I left them behind—only two things remained: Iron’s cactus and my little traveler’s chest. I left the cactus over by the mouth of my cave; I’d have to carry that in my hands, not put it in a saddlebag.
That just left my traveler’s chest. With a sad grin, I sat down next to it and popped its two latches open. There used to be months when going through the three things inside had been my only form of entertainment. One of the items had been my coin sack, so now, there were only two things inside.
The first was a feather my mother had given me, the night before I’d left to go to Junior Speedsters’. She never really talked to me or any of her kids—Father frowned on that sort of warmth—but she found ways of showing it silently. I remembered how one night, in the middle of winter, she’d placed one of my fledgeling sisters on my back; that was as warm and fuzzy as things got in our cave.
I closed my eyes and shrugged, slowly. That part of my life was over. The only thing I could do was remember my mother’s final words to me: “Whatever happens, I will always love you.”
The second thing in my traveler’s chest was a time-worn photograph of me, Dash, and everyone else at Junior Speedsters’. Seeing her smiling face made me cringe for a moment; I’d been so busy with everything in Farrington, I’d forgotten that I was waiting for Starfall’s wing to heal before I wrote her. The last time we’d spoken was during her visit for my birthday—at the end of June.
I tried to shake the guilt out of my head, but this was the sort of thing that only action would fix. Dash was my friend, and I didn’t want to lose that by letting everything else in my life get in the way.
On that note, I put on Iron’s saddlebags, closed and picked up my traveler’s chest, and grabbed Iron’s cactus. I had some more stuff to do today, the least of which was a long-overdue errand.
* * *
Two hours later, at the Farrington post office, I wrote my apartment’s address on the outside of a scroll. Inside of it, I’d written a short, simple letter:
Hey Dash
Sorry it’s been so long since I last wrote you; my summer’s been kind of crazy.
I’d like to tell you all about it, in Ponyville. I know what that means. Let me know when’s a good day for you (it’ll probably have to be a weekend), and I’ll be there.
~G.
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SUDDENLY... three new chapters and it's complete. I am both sad and happy at the same time.
I'll have to read them tomorrow after work however.
2622146
I hope you enjoy your Friday evening.
2622189
Yeah... I... I don't want to write the "emergency scrotum reparation surgery" scene. I think I've earned that much.
2622211
^This, though there's also the literary parallel that Red Hooves plays with her Father, who's a "traditionalist" from a race of well-known misogynists, so really, shooting Red in the testicles is a metaphor for why I'm not philosophical enough of an author to try to pull off symbolism like that.
2622300
I hope no one reads the comments before reading that scene.
2622244
Yeah, that might not play too well in some people's heads.
In any case, I'm bloody giddy and terrified about you possibly continuing this. I mean, I'm personally fine with a rather loose finish like this, leaving some details not-completely hammered in while still providing satisfactory (and in my opinion quite good) wrapups of ponies' and griffins' lives to be easily called a real, solid ending. I can only foresee bad things coming up if you decide to continue and describe Cold Front's attempted Farrington takeover or Gilda's father making an appearance. I'm sure it'll be excellently done and have an excellent ending, but the getting-to the ending is the part I'm worried about (in terms of dramaticness of in-story events)...
I'd personally be fine with you ending the overarching story here. I'd also be perfectly fine with you continuing. Just an opinion from a fan.
2622305
Yeah, I have a tendency to say things in my story comments that might get me stared at... perils of communication with readers, eh?
2622378
Yeah, I took some liberties. Plus, there's a little more of a hint at Nicht's role in my headcanon, by leaving her name as literally meaning "negation" instead of just "the night."
2622379
I forget who it was, but that was retaliation towards someone telling me a pun. Plus, I like Horatio. Now that Sherry's preoccupied, someone's got to do the wordplay.
2622387
Or maybe Sherry and Gilda's dad team up to remind everyone in Farrington that everything bad that happens there is because the author loves contrived coincidences.
No, I wouldn't do that.
Before this gets too buried, I guess I should repeat a comment from my other story, Dusk-Lit Waltz, which was my top six "ideas" for a next writing projects:
1) Commissions
2) Epic-length continuation of this story. It'd explore that world and address some "grand-scale" conflicts that I included in the background.
3) Grand Theft Auto crossover (fitting in technologies of the show, not necessarily content) that acts as a time-wise prequel to this story.
4) Some sort of non-deterministic followup to Two Beats. Not epic length, but will probably take a while to figure out what the hell I'm doing.
5) Original Fiction
6) The... apparently, it's got a name: Game of Pones (sequel to Dusk-Lit Waltz).
2622440 That being the case, why not name her 'nichts?'
On another note, I never expected to be arguing the semantics of the German language in the wee hours of a Friday.
2622452
If I'm already bastardizing a language for my own uses, I might as well go with something I like; I don't like the "s" at the end of "Nichts."
2622438
I'm glad I at least hit within the ballpark on that. I can't say I have much firsthand experience with being a teenage girl who's having sex for the first time.
2622405
You have no idea how hard it was to keep Starfall from making a, "I'm not the only stallion here who's blue" joke in the bar scene.
Thanks for updating the page, by the way.
And a sweet end to a wonderful series. I'd be happy to see you continue Gilda's adventures, and Sherry seems to be set up for a spin-off. That being said, this is just about the best ending possible for her so I'd also be content with just leaving it here. So really, it's all up to you whether you want to keep writing or not.
2622504 Fair enough.
2622507
I'm glad you enjoyed it.
2622508
Aaaaand, it ends! I don't know what to say other than this was a great end for a great story. The lead up, Gilda's fears and uncertainty finally being resolved, and most definitely her "I love you" towards Iron.
I like how you left those little loose ends, specially Sherry becoming part, and planning to take over the Mafiya and Gilda's dream about the warring gods. I don't really have much else to say aside from thank you for writing this and I still think you're awesome.
2622440 bastardizing the language? I'll say... I'm all for a sequel, but this was a satisfying ending. I can't say how happy I was to come home after my last final to find that this had updated.
2622189 Well deserved ball destroying is only funny if the
bastardvictim survives3 chapters, a bazzillion words and all right when i had to go to bed. And i read it all. Loved it. Sad it's over, i wish it would go on as a happy slice of life thing, but i wish that of everything. It was good following this story for so long.
But now that it's over, i have to ask again, last time i asked i either got no answer or got a non answer.
I remember reading a very short story very long ago about gild netting a brother of hers on the city and he had a letter from her father, was that you, was that someone else trying to give closure to your story because he thought it wouldn't be finished?
And so, it ends. But it's not really over, of course, now is it? The pony way of saying goodbye to this bunch really doesn't work for me, but the griffon way? Well, that's another matter entirely.
To Gilda, to Iron, to Starfall, and perhaps the dearest to me of them all, Nicknack himself, I say simply, auf wiedersehen.
I first saw Heart of gold, Feathers of steel roughly around a year or so back when it was a google Doc on EQD while searching the six star stuff and was immediately hooked. I'm not a big fan of sad or tragic genres but the story just seemed to click with me.
I was dissapointed at first when I saw your original sequel had seemingly been, probably the same reason I didn't get back into the series until you were well into evening flames but i'm very glad I did because this is marvelous. You've earned yourself another subscriber good sir because I will enjoy seeing any future works from you, regardless if they're a continuity of this (though I silently prey it is)
2622642 It was him, I remember that, her brother arrives, he is netted, she tells him to never set foot in her city, he insults her and tells her that "Father" is dying and he wants to see her a last time. I think Nick had planned a sequel to this that was going to be more into the Adventure genre.
Each time an update to this fic popped up in my notifications, I dropped everything and read it straightaway. This time was no different. Wonderful end to a wonderful series. It all started with Rainbow Dash, what better way than end it with her? Thank you for writing this, sir.
But I am a little curious about Gilda's dad. His influence has been a driving force throughout the series, and without a doubt the root of Gilda's problems. I'm not gonna lie, with the happy ending you set up in this final chapter, I was almost expecting him to show up at the cave right at the very end and just absolutely ruin everything for her. Ah well. He's just a bad dream at this point, and he can do no further harm... can he?
2622596
I'm glad you liked it, especially the loose threads. I think everyone's missed the biggest plothole so far, though: When will Sum Pony strike again and paint another fruit mural?
2622604
I'm glad you liked it.
2622642
Heh. That was Version 1 of Heart of Gold, Feathers of Steel, the one that existed between March 2011 to July 2011. Version 2 omitted that scene in favor of a fleshed-out "Join my Guard" scene between Gilda and Iron; and instead of having seven pages glancing over how "Gilda liked moving in to Farrington," we got something a tad more... substantiated.
2622663
(Oh my God, did he just quote himself?) * *
2622697
I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I hope you enjoy my other works.
2622739
Heh. It was more like a novelization of an RPG than anything. Boss fights, dungeons... all that stuff.
2622742
Oh, the bookends were the best part. Especially since the first version of Heart of Gold started with a scene where Gilda went through her posessions before sending a letter to Dash...
I really, really want Sherry dead now.
Hope things work out for Gilda. Maybe she can produce an egg.
2622817
Ah... she's in a Hell of her own making. You can't kill her; she's already dead inside.
Is it bad that I imagine Iron preying on Starfall's ignorance of griffin biology by jokingly referring to Gilda's equinoctial heats as "omelette week" (since, in my headcanon, griffins, like all birds of prey, only lay fertile eggs, unlike chickens)?
2622828
Sherry can't truly be in her own hell until she realizes how far she's fallen. She's stuck in "calling for my arrest? Traitor!" mode, still unrepetant for the deaths she caused, and still doesn't realize what a hypocrite she's become. Hell will come when some of her underworld dealings screw her over and she has nothing to turn to, or a deal forces her to compromise on whatever morals she has left, or she can finally compare her old self and new side by side. I'm kind of thinking like Lord of War, where Yuri successfully escapes the legal system while driving his contacts and family off, then finishing by contemplating suicide.
Love it, love it, love it. If you decide to continue the story I'll be there.
This story is amazing. Excellent work. But I was just thinking that Gilda might be a bit unhappy having to eat taters and buying 'pets'. It would be nice of Iron to actually go out and help Gilda hunt. Oh well, that's an idea for the sequel, if it happens
Awesome.
So, when's the sequel?
That's an amazing fic!
I really enjoyed it and i cannot wait to read a sequel!
By the way, again, thanks for writing such an amazing fic.
Loved it. Was hoping Sherry would pay a bit more for what she did but guess you can't have it all
One clarification question: When Starfall says Comet's always been a little early, what's he talking about? I didn't quite catch Gilda's drift.
Top-notch work, and congratulations on finishing it! You've made a world with depth and richness here, and I'm ecstatic to hear you're planning more stories set in it. Goes without saying, but I'll be following eagerly.
(It's pretty silly that you just knocked this out, and almost every comment is asking or wondering about more. We're all eager little baby birds, aren't we?)
This is easily one of my favorite fics on the site, and I can't thank you enough for writing. You've got a real talent, and I'm immensely grateful to you for sharing it.
I have to say this is a really enjoyable set of fiction.
I can't decide if I want it to continue, or if ending it here in this fashion is the best way to resolve it.
Ah, wonderful.
I'd love to see you eventually continue this, but it's still a great story as it is. 'Til next time, mein freund.
2624576
Heh. They've had practice by that point. He knows how to hold a knife by the blade without cutting his fingers, so to speak.
Okay, * gasp * I'm finally done... updating the... TVTropes page. * gasp! * Three hours...
...I deserve a medal.
And if anyone mentions any spelling errors I made I will not hesitate to seethe in frustration.
2625107
Don't mention that part.
Nah, just kidding; thanks for finishing up the Tropes page.
OK, NickNack... be your way, whatever it is. Thy will be done and not ours
Seriously, I've been waiting, like, two years for this story to finish.
And another great story draws to a close.
2622828
"Omelette week" oh gods XD
Well then, between the long hiatus and the rewrite this has been one heck of a journey. I remember the first story on Equestria Daily. Feels like forever ago. I have mixed feelings. As far as I am aware, the hiatus and rewrite happened after the chapter before the last three you uploaded. However, before the rewrite I don't remember Sherry's lapse into insanity.
That is probably the biggest change I can see in the rewrite. The different
gift Iron gives Gilda is second. I liked it better when it was the books or whatever about Gryphon history. Not entirely sure why that needed changing, did you feel it seemed to farfetched Iron could get those for her? There was more musing by Gilda about her family too and how they were doing before the rewrite I think. And Maxie is stronger in this version.
Sherry... I assume you were planning this before the rewrite as well, but man... It's a bit of a tough pill to swallow. She is much different in this version. I still like her from before the rewrite, but she makes it harder now.
The ending might be a bit too open for my tastes, personal preference. I like everything tied up nice and tightly, but that's just me.
All in all, it's still a story I enjoyed very much, even if it went a bit darker then I expected from the first time I read it. If there will be an eventual sequel I will be here.
That ending.
You're the best.
This is the story that made me actually like Gilda. It was one of the first 'long' stories that I read, though it was already over a year old when I first started reading. I remember noting to the IRC I was in at the time that it was one of the most engaging romance ponyfics that I had read. I remember looking at the comments on EqD every few days, because you went silent after that comment you left on April 15. Then some weeks or months later I found the ponychan thread Garnot made confirming your absence.
And I was rather down about it. The "definitely never to return" part made me sad, even though I had never conversed with you or read your reviews or interacted with you at all besides reading the story.
But then you came back and finished this wonderful piece, making it even better than it was before.
So, um, thanks. Thanks for coming back.
2624276 They are talking about the length of a mare pregnancy cycle. Comet's gonna give birth sooner than she should, that's why Gilda seems confused and says
And that's what Star refers to her being "early like that". Horse physiology, the moar you know.
2622828 Omelette week... Well, on the bright side we know where Hippogryphs come from, don't we now? XD
Just dropping a comment saying thank you for this wonderful fic. I can't say all the ways I love it on account of my laptop is about 30 secs from caching fire.
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Oh, I disagree wholeheartedly. Hell is being stuck in a repetitive cycle of self-destruction without realizing you're stuck there. Or even, she does realize it, but she thinks she deserves her own miserable situation because she's less than perfect, so that only furthers the cycle as she digs herself deeper into evil while under the guise of self-pity.
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Much appreciated
2623726
But... those are pets.
In all seriousness, I imagine a sort of parallel friendship blossoming between Gilda/Iron and Comet/Starfall, due to the personalities. Meaning, much like Iron and Comet are good friends based on their similar levels of empathy and emotional endurance, GIlda and Starfall are both very passionate, once they're able to express their emotions (for example, in chapters 1 and 2 of Evening Flames, both of them storm away from an argument in a similar manner). They've also got similar "interests" in combat, so...
I dunno. I'd see Gilda and Starfall as "hunting buddies" before Gilda and Iron. That's not to say Iron's a pushover when it comes to combat (although, he'd rather prefer to disarm a situation with words than punches), but... I dunno. A fun little snippet of headcanon I've got?
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Her whole deal with that was that after their weird night of getting far too drunk about that neither of them really ever talked about ever again, she felt it'd be taking advantage of him if she pulled the "want to be more than just friends" line. Plus, the age thing, plus, the mourning thing... for her, alcohol was a way of coping with "I'm miserable, but I deserve to be miserable."
2624028
You're welcome
2624155
What's that? Toxic fumes? Two dozen union regulations violated? I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER MY VISUAL PUN FOR 'HOT LIQUID IRON'!
2624251
I explain this a little further down in this (rapidly-becoming-massive) comment, but... she ends up alone, in a cement box underground, with the only way "forward" being to dig herself deeper into pure evil. With her wholly aware of this... it's basically a way for her to still function as a badass (which I wanted) while being completely emotionally dead inside (which she deserves).
2624276
Yeah, Doc-R already got it, but basically, I imagine that ponies have four "fertility weeks" throughout the year, set around the four equinoxes/solstices (compared to griffins, who I only imagine for the equinoxes). Since it's... September 22 in that scene, and Starfall's just breaking the news that they've found out (which... I imagine takes a week or so before that starts showing up on tests), yeah.
"Early."
2624285
I thank you
2624408
Heh. I'm glad you feel that way.
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2626612
Have you seen how I treat the characters in my story? Genocides, mass extinctions, infanticides, oppression, abuse, and wing-removal? I'd be a terrible god.
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I hope it was worth the wait (26 months since I wrote the first chapter of Heart of Gold).
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I thank you.
2627701
But it leads to cute interactions such as:
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It's like shark week, except Gilda's already a predator by nature.
2629904
Yeah; the whole... get her a huge gift like that seemed out of place given the timing of her birthday versus when they meet; plus, that letter was a sequel hook that I didn't want to commit to in the rewrite.
2630104
No, Horatio's calling Sherry a "ticking time bomb of mental health issues."
2630275
I thank you for that, and I'm glad I was able to finish this.
it was... hard for me to read this chapter
I'm always sad when a good story like this ends and I know that asking for more would be wrong, but still, I just can't contain my wish to read a little more of what will happen in the future with Sherry and even the relationship between R.D. and Gilda.
You must have read it a lot but anyway:
) I hope to see more! 
Thank you for the awesome story!
The first part of this fic was what made me start liking the character "Gilda" AND one of the things that gave me inspiration to start writing my own fics (even though I don't have time to write anymore)
So, thank you again and (despite being wrong or not
2632566
2631561
Heh, no, but Maxie's name started off as that because she was always bitchy towards Gilda (as in, maxi pad).
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*shrugs*
Well... not necessarily. The fun thing about biology is that it doesn't care if you're ostracized from your society. As for if hippogriffs exist in this story's universe...
2632360
Your computer overheated at night? I guess you could say it had some Evening Flames...
Yeeeeeaaaahhhhh, no, I should stop with the CSI puns.
2632620
Thank you, and I'm glad you enjoyed it.
This is... probably the best Gilda-centric story in the fandom. Period. Bar none. I loved it. i love it and will continue to love it. And dammit, I hope to see more of this 'verse.
This is one of the first fim fanfics that I read, and one that really got me into the different aspects of the fandom besides just watching the shows. I'd read it multiple times before this final revision, and am sure I'll read it again.
I find it a bit funny, when I first read this fic I may have read 5 fim fanfics previously. Now that I've finished it, I checked calibre and I have over 800 fanfics loaded. And those are just the ones I had enough interest in to save. What a difference 2 years has made.
I'm not big on comments but I just wanted to let you know that your story is quite good, has realistic character development, and you really managed to bring your characters and places alive. I'm glad the story has a resolution, but I'm also a bit bummed that the book is closed. I do hope you'll write more, even if not continuing this story.
I've been following your stories about Gilda since they were first posted on equestriadaily.com.
I don't know what to say.
I'm really glad you came back after a long break. And I'm glad you've finished the story.
In the same time, I'm sad, because there won't be any new chapters.
Gilda - your Gilda - is such a real and living character! Whenever I see her image, whenever she is mentioned - I automatically think "hey! that's Gilda von der Scharfkral!"
She became one of my favorite fictional characters, even with all her sharp edges.
She even was an inspiration to some point when I had harsh times. "If she managed to dig through everything, you'll manage, too."
Thank you very much.
P.S. you should definitely work a bit on Russian words and phrases you use in the text.
Didn't realize Heart of Gold, Feathers of Steel had follow-ups until about last night at 11 and now I'm all caught up lol. Really <3 your take on Gilda and ever since the first arc of the story wrapped up I've always been disappointed in most other people's take on the character. That said, there were bits and pieces of the story that were hard to follow because of the frequent perspective changes and few structural oddities that left me re-reading a few passages a couple times, but overall I enjoyed all three arcs of the story and I'm looking forward to more (please?).