The eyes
Darkness and cold aside, there's a curious charm to the moonlit forest. The stark contrast of light and shadow on the trees and vines brings to mind a modern chiaroscuro painting, or some nightmarish otherworldly realm.
But this night-time jaunt into the heart of the Everfree is hardly a nightmare, literally or figuratively. I feel positively euphoric; how thoughtful of the eyes to command my coming here.
I cannot understand why I've avoided midnight forest strolls for so long. At times, I almost feel I had a reason, but I can't seem to grasp it; it always slips away, like the motivations of a dream after you've awoken.
Bah, what does it matter? I'm sure the reason was unimportant, and I have a moonlit walk to enjoy.
I can't remember the last time I've felt such happiness; it feels like every heartbeat pumps new joy into my mind and body. I'm light as a feather… a thought that makes me notice the absent weight of my herb-laden saddlebags.
What? I… had them a short while ago… I must have… Our stock is disturbingly low this year, and gathering more is why I set out in the f- No matter, enjoying the view is more important.
The path I've been following turns left; at their instruction, I keep moving straight forward, into the thicket.
The darkness increases tenfold; only a few sparse moonbeams break the shades of black and blacker. But I do not falter; joyful as ever, I meander between the bushes and trunks under the eyes' kind guidance.
And yet, as I plunge deeper into the forest, I begin to hear a very faint sound, slowly increasing in volume. It feels directionless, barely perceptible over the voice of the forest, like the ring-hiss you hear when listening closely to silence. But it sounds almost like softly running water, or perhaps… an unintelligible whisper? With an air of concern, almost fear?
Another wave of euphoria envelops my mind, muffling the mystery sound. All the better; I am getting close, and I wish to enjoy the rest of my trip without distraction.
The vegetation has become impenetrable. The overhead leaves completely block out the sky, the dim glow of my horn providing my only light. Momentarily unsure how to proceed, I feel a sudden surge in power; my horn glows significantly brighter, and the world is tinted green for a fraction of a second. My magic forms a thin, off-white arc, which with my guidance easily slices through the plant life in my path, without flame or odour.
I smile to myself. The eyes have once again graciously given assistance.
But even with their help, the sheer amount of vegetation makes the work quite tedious, and by the time I slice through the last branch, I am quite tired. No matter, I stop see light ahead; I am practically there.
I emerge into a clearing. I have arrived, and at long last, the main attraction lies before me… And it is more no beautiful than I could ever have imagined.
Half-lion, half-scorpion, with huge bat wings protruding from its back, it lies fast asleep. Its muscular chest oscillates slowly, regularly, a soft growl-snore punctuating get back its every breath.
I feast my eyes on the feral mass of dormant power; from massive head to muscular legs, my admiration fight them grows with every inch of muscle, wing and fur. So beautiful… almost erotic.
My gaze travels to its tail. The fur ends abruptly, giving way to shiny, segmented exoskeleton. While the rest of the beast lies curled up and tranquil, the tail stands erect, as if poised to strike, like a compressed spring. GET THE FUCK BACK!!!
I quietly approach the manticore. My legs tremble in fear awe, making the process somewhat difficult, but at long last, I am standing by its side. My gaze continues too close up the tail, soaking in the sharp moonlit reflections from every segment. I reach the end; the member forms a bulb, which narrows into a bright red poisonous dart. A single but deadly large drop of translucent yellow venom hangs from it.
The strange background chatter seems louder than LISTEN ever, but again gets pushed to the back of my mind as I fixate on the drop. It stands about two feet above me, the stars beyond it warped and upside-down, their weak glow tinted yellow.
I walk around the tail, take a few steps back, and am rewarded with the perfect angle. The moon is now shining directly through the drop, its image warped and inverted into a miniature gold version of itself. Only partially obscured by the drop, the moon forms a silver ring around the gold. I fancy an annular eclipse of the moon by the sun, the two goddess-spheres working together to chase away the darkness of the forest.
This fantasy captivates me for a few minutes but eventually, as my awe dies down a little, I notice the view is not quite as perfect as I originally thought. The stinger is too high above me; I cannot hope to get a good enough line of sight, no matter how much I crane my neck.
I frown, stymied, but a solution quickly WHAT?! pops into my head. It's obvious, really. The position of the tail needs to be changed.
I move back to the base of the tail, my horn flickering to life. I pause for a few moments, it seems somewhat FUCK wrong to destroy the peaceful moonlit image of the beast. Also, the whispering - I can clearly tell it's a voice now - seems to be getting more frantic, as if warning STOP me not to…
But the more I hesitate, the more impatient I become. My mind is set; I need this, and I'm going to do it. My horn glows brightly, again forming the white arc, and I slice clean through the base of NO, PLEASE the tail.
The frantic whispering shifts to muffled screaming, which is quickly drowned out by the manticore's roar of pain and rage. I quickly take a few steps back, tail held aloft in my magic. It's incredibly heavy, and I can barely muster the power to hold it up.
The now-just-a-winged-lion staggers in circles for a few moments, confused and unbalanced by the sudden truncation. Before long, though, it locates its tail, sees me holding it, and puts two and two together. With a deep growl - quite melodious - it turns towards me, and prepares to pounce.
The screams are clearer than ever; they pull at my legs, commanding them to run, but I stand my ground. With great effort, I move the tail so that the manticore is glaring at me directly through the drop of venom. Its sour-cherry-red mane changes to dark orange, and its golden coat becomes more saturated. A fascinating chromatic effect, but I must admit I'm dead its warped upside-down figure looks rather comical.
The manticore charges. The tail is knocked from my grasp; the drop explodes into a myriad of diminutive clones of itself, and for a fraction of a second, I see a hundred golden winged lions jumping at me. The screams have I wasn't their prey died down for a second, but burst out anew as the beast lands the first blow.
I land on my back, my eyes facing the moon. I recognize the they want her screams now, they are mine. Immaterial, as my mouth remains shut, but piercing my mind from my fault a spot deeply buried in the back of my head. Punctuating every slash of claw and tear of flesh, they help forge an orchestra of pain, mind-cries, and my fault bloody moonlight.
The composition undergoes a decrescendo; pain is my… numbed, screams falter, moonlight fades. Somewhat reminiscent of the work
***
I glide effortlessly through the light-dark, expertly dodging the trunks in search of the herbs she needs. I quickly gather what I need, and my saddlebags are soon full to bursting.
Ain't I the perfect husband, dearest?
The weight of my haul confines me to the ground, so I don my shell and set off towards home. The trek is infuriatingly slow, but I am a patient one. I bury my annoyance, and begin rummaging through his memories.
By the time I reach the edge of the forest, I am fully versed in his marital life. I follow the path to the outskirts of the village, and turn right to a slightly run-down house with a small stand before it, advertising natural remedies and teas. The light is on, and I can see her silhouette seated at the kitchen table, face cradled in her forehooves.
I smile. No need to wait until morning, then. But I have to deal with her anger first. So I steel myself, and knock on the door.
There's a pause, a quick shuffling of hooves, and the door flies open. Another brief pause, and a hoof connects with my jaw, with the force of a javelin. I fall onto my back, while being careful to subtly hold onto my saddlebags with my magic, so they do not burst open. My forelegs are pinned down by a pair of powerful hooves, and a familiar pegasus face starts shouting in my face.
Holy shit, what was my dumbfuck ass thinking? Going into the forest at night? Did I want to get eaten? No note, no warning, just a pair of missing saddlebags? Did I seriously not give a shit about her, about how she would feel if she lost me?
I let her vent, looking at the ground, with just a few short but informative sorrowful upward glances. The fur underneath her eyes is matted from tears; she appears more relieved than angry, in spite of her trying to hide it. I should be able to exploit that… I detect no alcohol on her breath; I cannot use too direct an approach, then…
Her tirade ends abruptly, sooner than I expected. She is more tired and stressed than I thought; this could prove difficult. Perhaps I should wait until morning? No, even my patience has its limits.
I fill my eyes with tears, mumble an apology and a broken attempt at an explanation, and present my saddlebags to her. She snatches them out of my magic, and starts shouting again.
This is her job; mine is to process the herbs! How much did I expect to be able to find anyway, while confined to the ground, and not being able… to…
She falters, seeing the sheer amount I have brought home. Her eyes widen, and an astonished "how?" escapes her lips. Then she catches me watching her, recomposes her face into a scowl, and stomps back into the house. Muttering something about "fucking idiot unicorns", she tells me to get my ass inside or sleep on the porch.
I shuffle inside with my head down; so far, so good. She stalks into the kitchen and begins unpacking and sorting the herbs. I leave her be for a while, lingering half-hidden by the kitchen doorway and giving her time to cool down. I begin massaging the point of impact on my jaw, pretending to nurse it, but actually obscuring the impossibly accelerated formation of a bruise.
When she is finally done sorting fifteen minutes later, she sticks her head out the kitchen door, preparing to yell at me again. Spotting my now impressively purple swollen jaw, she pauses guiltily, and tells me to get my butt in the room in an annoyed but subdued tone.
Another success.
She demands an explanation.
Our stock was low, and I panicked.
Why didn't I let her do it?
She was already working herself to the bone, and we still didn't have enough; I had to do something.
Oh, so she's too weak, just another pushover hollow-boned pegasus?
No, but there are limits to even what she can do. We're in this together, and I have to do what I can, and step in when she needs to me to.
But why didn't I tell her?
Would she have let me go?
She pauses. She has calmed down somewhat; I should be able to speak more freely. I tell her I know how she takes pride in her ability to provide for both of us; indeed, it was her physical and mental strength that drew me to her all those years ago. I didn't want to hurt her pride… That is why I went out at night, and hid from her…
She appears touched; I press on, now appealing to her rational side. I went into a deeper part of the forest - that she could not have searched from flight - and struck gold. Pure luck, probably, but I found enough to put to put us back on track, and then some. What I've brought is just the beginning, there's much more left. A few more treks, and we should be able to rest easy for the first time in months.
She can't help but get excited at this news. Her eyes sparkle, and she smiles earnestly for the first time in weeks. Forgetting her anger for a moment, she grabs me into a bear hug. I return it. Noting that her wings are slightly extended, I mentally go over my list of pegasus-specific erogenous zones… wait - she extricates herself from our embrace - did I say I went into the deep part of the forest? How deep?
About four miles.
Four mi- With barely any experience navigating the forest, even in daytime? What the fuck?! It doesn't matter how much I brought back; it was too great a risk. And how the bloody Tartarus did I manage to find all this anyway? There's luck, then there's magic, then this! Recognizing the proper herbs was never my job, and now I could do it in the dark? How?!
I expected this to come up… I am prepared for it, but it requires a small gamble.
Yes, she got me. This… isn't the first time I've gone into the forest at night. I've been doing it for at least a month now. At first I couldn't find anything. Then I could only find a couple of wilted flowers she had missed. Increasingly desperate, I went further and further into the forest, focusing on areas I knew she couldn't see from above. My find may have been luck, but a lot of effort and many failures were required.
I can tell she believes me. He had, on multiple occasions, heard her questioning the apparition of several plants she could not remember picking. She had, in fact, thrown away many of them due to their being wilted or crushed, much to the chagrin of her idiot.
I press on before she can reply; I need to steer this conversation in the right direction.
I was as careful as possible; I secretly practiced self-defence spells, and never pushed myself to search longer than I knew I could take. I stayed on the paths when I could, and when I couldn't, I focused on places too overgrown for large beasts to roam.
She is not entirely convinced, but slightly less angry. Time for the emotional approach.
It's… not just our situation. It's how I'm always staying at home, safe, and she's risking her life scanning the forest, and doing all the difficult work… I feel… like I'm weighing her down. Just another mouth to feed, leeching off all her toil… Yes, I mince the herbs, I dry the tea leaves, I seed the berries, but how can that compare? She could get any unicorn to do that for cheap - probably better than I can, given my pitiful magical ability - and then she wouldn't have to live in poverty.
We've been married for all these years; what have I contributed? I feel like she threw away her chance at happiness just to be with me. I never mentioned this because I was too prideful - or too scared? -, but now I feel that she deserves the complete truth.
I take her forehooves in mine. Does she understand? I need her to… I feel I cannot live with this shame any longer…
Tears are running down her face freely as she stares at me in shock. Promising, but I can't be completely sure yet, so I silently wait for her to react.
She hits me again, but this is more of a slap. With barely a pause, she grabs my head and kisses me with such ferocity, our teeth clink together. I match the movements of her tongue with ease, and turn my pheromone glands on.
Breaking off the kiss, she embraces me again, sobbing. She insists she needs me, cannot live without me, that her life would be nothing if I weren't there, and other stupid shit. I'm almost disappointed at how easy that was; had his memories not shown me how susceptible to emotional manipulation she is, I would have never dared use that cheesy crap. Oh well, at least her cuntwarmer provided me with enough amusement for a night. He was delectably strong.
I wait for her sobs to die down, occasionally whispering a soothing word or two into her mane. She's calm now; time to hit this home.
Hey, does she know what we haven't done for a while now?
She exits the embrace, narrows her eyes for a second, but then her mouth breaks into a devilish grin.
What, now? It's late.
Yes, a month or two too late. (73 and a half days since last time, to be precise, but I do not mention that.)
But she's tired, and I must be exhausted…
Well, nothing chases away sleep like one's boiling blood, no?
She irks an eyebrow. Oh, am I gonna set her blood a-boiling? Please, after all this time, she knows I'm not exactly the most skilled lover in the aaaaaaaaaahhnnnnn…
Her wings spring erect at my touch. Locking lips with her again, I begin massaging the base of both wings, then slowly work my way along the edges, eliciting more moans of pleasure. Reaching the alulae, I press down hard; she emits a shuddering squeal, and twin tremors travel down her wings, meeting at the vertebrae. My hooves follow the pulse down her spine, and grab it as it reaches her nethers, along with two hooffulls of ass.
Another muffled squeal, and our lips part. Elevated heartrate, rapid breathing, flushed face, dilated pupils, dopey grin, everything checks out. She is convinced.
Okay, whoah, she doesn't know what forest beast I've been practicing on in my midnight jaunts, but she's impressed. She extricates herself from my grasp, and heads for the bedroom. She pauses in the kitchen doorway; with a wink of an eye, and a wink of something else entirely, she beckons me to follow.
She is already in bed when I catch up to her; she appears love-drunk from my pheromones. Her features betray her hunger; I mirror hers, and hide my own. She pats a spot beside her, but being well aware of her preferences, I instead shove her onto her back, and jump on top of her.
Our nethers interlock; another moan, louder and more passionate. She stares into my eyes with adoration, and finally speaks the words I've been waiting for:
"I love you."
The critical point has been reached. Her pupils contract, and a gasp begins to form in her lungs, but it's long past too late. Her body freezes in its euphoric state; her irises mirror the green glow in mine.
Her husband's coat burns off my body, revealing the black exoskeleton underneath. My horn glows; her euphoria increases, and love starts seeping from her mind to mine.
She does not react. She merely stares into my eyes unblinkingly, obeying their command.
And the eyes command her to love me.